by Sara Fawkes
The words surrounded me, a sensual net, and I swallowed. My body had already begun vibrating, breath coming in pants. Part of me almost feared what he would do to me – not that I expected anything painful or demeaning, but that I’d lose all control of my body. Perhaps that was the point. With a shuddering sigh, I forced the muscles of my thighs to relax and let my knees fall apart.
“More.”
Swallowing, again I complied, opening myself to him. He shifted above me, removing his hand from my shoulder to brace against the couch. I gasped when a finger pressed through the thin line of panties against my core, and arched my body into the contact. He gripped my hair, holding me steady as his hand rubbed and prodded. My breath came in shuddering gasps as he leaned over me, his face pressed close.
“You’re mine,” he murmured, eyes ablaze. He sped up his ministrations until I was moaning, the grip on my hair tightening. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I’m yours.” I struggled to get the words out; my body quaked and pulsed like a heartbeat. Eyes fluttering closed, my whole being focused on the sensations his hands provoked. The ache between my legs spread; I slipped out of my heels for traction, tilting my hips toward his hand.
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Sir.”
The grip on my hair tightened, and my eyes sprang open, my breath coming in gasps. His eyes searched mine, for what I couldn’t tell, but I couldn’t think to hide anything. All I wanted was him, and I tried to let him see my desperation. The walls of my opening pulsed, demanding attention, and I silently begged him for more.
His grip on my hair eased, and he shifted again, his gaze no longer as intense but just as demanding. “I want to see you come,” he murmured, lowering his face close to mine.
The words made me melt, his deep voice surging through my body. The deft fingers down there moved effortlessly underneath the panties, and I moaned loudly as they slipped through my folds and caressed my weeping opening. The car beneath me rocked slightly, reminding me where I was, but its movement only added to the sensations. A thick finger dipping inside, while his thumb flicked my aching bud, forced breathy moans from me.
“Only I am allowed to do this.” Jeremiah accentuated his words by teasing a spot inside me with pinpoint accuracy; my hips shot off the seat, and I groaned. “No other man gets to touch you unless it is with my permission. Is that clear?”
I choked on my answer, waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I was rocketing toward an orgasm, and couldn’t think straight. The hand in my hair tightened, and I managed to reply, “Y-Yes.”
“I can’t hear you.”
I cried out, the sensations almost too much. “Yes! Please, Sir!”
“Eyes on me.” I locked gazes with him, and the power of his gaze pinned me to the seat. His thumb rubbed harder as his finger hooked me from inside, rubbing my opening with expert precision. “Now, come,” he said, and with a wail I joyously dove off the edge. Body shuddering uncontrollably, I clutched at his dress jacket, everything in me exploding. The last ounce of strength fled my body, and I melted into the leather beneath me, trying in vain to catch my breath.
Jeremiah released my hair, and sat back in his seat, leaving me sprawled along the bench seat. I managed to close my legs, but couldn’t do anything more; pulses still rocked me, and my limbs felt like jelly. The car slowed and turned, pressing me back against the seat, and I started as a hand came to rest on my knee. Swallowing, I looked out the tinted window to see the bright façade of our hotel looming above.
4
We made the short trip up to our suite in silence, though tension lay in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. I had barely kicked off my uncomfortable heels, enjoying the freedom to wiggle my toes, before a thick arm snaked around my waist. He pressed his hard body to me, trapping me against the wall; a thick thigh wedged itself between my legs and, before I knew what was happening, Jeremiah's mouth covered my own in a scorching kiss. Still reeling from the limo ride, I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers digging through his thick hair as I moaned against his lips.
Hands cupped my backside, and he lifted me high, and once more wedged me tightly between his body and the wall; I gripped his shoulders to steady myself, but he held me secure, lowering his mouth to run lips and teeth down my neck. He ran hands down my thighs, then wrapped my legs around his waist; I moaned as I felt his hard length press against my already throbbing core.
"Mine," he murmured, the low rumble moving through me like a flood. Capturing both of my wrists in one large hand, he pinned them above my head as his lips again found mine, sucking and nibbling. His free hand kneaded the soft flesh of my breast, thumbing the nipple, and I pushed into his touch.
His need and unabashed passion likewise set me aflame. I moaned against his mouth, arching my body against his, trying desperately to get closer. He rolled his hips, pressing them against me, and I gave a small cry. His teeth played with my ear and dragged down the side of my throat, and I was lost to all else.
Belatedly, I noticed we were moving, but it didn't sink in until the world tilted and I landed on my back in the huge bed. Jeremiah wasted no time in covering me; he didn't seem to care about the expensive dress, slipping a rough hand down the front. The fervor of his passion made me hotter as well; I wanted, needed, more. I tried to touch him but he grabbed my wrists again, holding them beside my head as he sucked and nibbled my neck.
"Roll over."
I quickly obliged, and felt the zipper of the dress glide down my back and over my bottom. He peeled the layer from my skin, then trailed his lips down along my spine. I arched up like a cat, desperate for the soft touch, and heard the jangle of his belt. Excited by the sound and what it represented, I pushed my backside up to rub against his crotch, and to my immense satisfaction heard his small indrawn breath.
Hands wrapped around my wrists again, pulling them up toward the headboard. I felt cool leather wrapped around them as Jeremiah deftly secured me to the brass railings with the belt, effectively trapping me. Thus secured, he began to remove my dress; I lifted my hips to help as he peeled the material from my body before tossing it to the ground beside the tall bed. His hands kneaded my buttocks as he moved behind me, straddling my legs. I lifted myself up onto my knees, desperate for more contact. The position left me exposed, and his growl of approval made me shiver.
His hand splayed across my upper back, pressing my chest into the mattress, then he bent over me and lips trailed up along my spine. My exhalations were panting bursts, hands gripping the leather restraints tightly. His teeth scraped over the taut skin of my backside, and I couldn't stop the moan that forced its way through my lips. My body quivered, wanting more, but Jeremiah took his time. Hands caressed my hips, kneading the globes of my backside, then his thumbs ran down along the cleft of my backside toward my weeping entrance.
I surged forward when he parted the tender flesh, my frantic panting a staccato in the quiet suite. He breathed on me, a hint of what was to come, then lips and a hot tongue unerringly found my throbbing opening. I keened, my cry bouncing off the wall behind the bed, as he ran his tongue along the tight ring before pushing in further. One hand stroked through my folds and my entire body quaked uncontrollably.
He stayed there for a while as I moaned and thrashed. "Please," I begged repeatedly, although for what I didn't know. Perhaps release from the delicious torture, perhaps for more. Probably both.
His only reply was to chuckle and continue the onslaught of pleasure.
When he finally inserted a finger, I pressed against it, desperate for more. He controlled everything, but where he rubbed inside only served to heighten the sensation. Fluid flowed down my thighs, and I was almost crying from the unrelenting intensity.
He pulled away suddenly, then twisted me around so I was laying on my back. I stared up at a savage face as he forced my knees apart, looped his arm under one knee, then slid his hard length deep inside me with one sure stroke. I arched my body and closed m
y eyes, breath stuttering in my throat at the sudden invasion. The belt kept my arms restrained as he pounded me into the bed, allowing no retreat from his passion.
"Look at me."
I opened my eyes and stared up into his beautiful, intense face. A hand snaked up my body, winding itself around my throat as his face pressed in close. His hips kept up their thrusting, and the continual flashes of pleasure made it hard to think. “Say my name.”
“Jeremiah,” I breathed, brushing my breasts against his body. Behind the green lingerie, my nipples ached for his touch. I drew my free leg up to his waist, twisting it across his body and locking my ankles behind his back. His eyes widened, and the thrusting grew stronger.
“Say it again!”
“Jeremiah!” I cried out desperately, the word almost a sob. “Please!”
The hand around my throat tightened, not enough to choke me but enough to cause a rushing in my head. His hand settled on my breast, pushing the stiff material aside and kneading the tissue, pinching the nipple between his fingers. My hips fell into a rhythm, moving with him, our thrusts taking me higher and higher, almost there but not quite enough...
Jeremiah’s hand tightened again, constricting my breathing enough for it to cut through the haze of lust. My eyes shot to his passionate green ones, and I read the same need coursing through my veins. I gave myself over to the sensations, trusting him in this even as my lungs began to burn.
Then he released my throat, and thrust hard, tweaking my nipple. The sudden rush of breath and blood flowing through my body overwhelmed me, and with a cry and a shudder I came for the second time that evening. I thrashed beneath him, twisting the leather belt above my head and riding the wave of pleasure.
I wasn’t sure how long it took my brain to settle back into the present, but eventually I came back to myself and saw Jeremiah still looming above me. His eyes recorded my every reaction; a hand traced down the side of my face in the first honestly tender contact I could remember. A thumb ran over my lips, and I opened my mouth, pulling it inside and tugging it with my teeth.
It was then, when I saw the answering fire in his eyes, that I realized he was still hard inside me.
He reached above me and released the belt, unwinding it from my wrists. My pinkies were numb and my wrists ached, but I didn’t care. Keeping my gaze on his, I reached up and pushed on one shoulder, turning him over to lie on the bed. To my amazement, he allowed me to do so, and I followed him over until I was the one crouched over his large body. He had shed his dress jacket and slacks at some point, but still had his white shirt on with only the top two buttons undone. I straddled his hips, feeling his hardness pressing against my backside, as one by one I unfastened the remaining loops.
I had never yet seen him naked and, despite the languor making my limbs heavy, I was eager to search his body as he’d done mine. I could feel his scrutiny but he did nothing to stop me as I peeled back the white cloth and ran my hand along his hard torso. There wasn’t an ounce of fat under the skin; lines of muscle stood out in prominent display, olive skin and small dark nipples. However, scars marred the perfection: one small white irregular star on one shoulder and smaller lines across his chest and belly. I smoothed my hand over them one by one and saw him flinch but again, he didn’t stop me.
Mine. The possessive thought surprised me. I skimmed my fingers up the line of his abdomen, across his pectorals, then leaned down to study his face. He watched me impassively as I traced the curve of his face, down past a strong chin with skin that, while clean shaven, still had a slight sandpaper bite. So very beautiful. Cupping his jaw, I levered myself up using his shoulder, then lowered my hips onto his hard member as I bent down toward his face.
A large hand clamped on my shoulder, and I stopped only inches from his lips. The look in his eyes was difficult to read, a guarded yearning I didn’t understand. His hand stopped me from bending down, but nothing halted my hips which continued their downward travel, taking him inside me. Jeremiah swallowed, his throat moving; I undulated my hips, pulling up then pressing him deeper, and he let out a stuttering breath. The hand on my shoulder loosened, and I continued down, pressing my mouth against his neck then trailing down toward the star-shaped scar on his chest as I rolled my hips again.
I traced the white tissue with my lips, drawing a finger over one small dark nipple. Up close it was larger than I’d thought; the skin around it wasn’t as discolored but still puckered from past trauma. I looked up to see him watching me with that incomprehensible look; his full lips were open, and I desperately wanted to see what they tasted like. Rising over him again, I traced my fingers again down the side of his face. “You’re so beautiful,” I breathed, my eyes roaming his face.
The longing in his eyes deepened as my eyes fell again to his mouth, then he lifted a hand to tangle in my hair, and brought my face to his. Our lips clashed in a sudden hunger; his other hand dug into my hip as I rode him hard, hands stroking his torso.
Somewhere beside us a cellphone vibrated, a persistent distraction. “Sounds like someone really wants to talk to you,” I purred, grinning down at his beautiful face.
“They can call back later,” he growled, then thrust his hips up, pressing his hardness up deep inside me. I gasped, all thoughts of the caller flying from my head. He rolled me over onto my back and, teeth finding my neck, he hammered me into the mattress. I gripped him with my thighs, moaning, as he pierced me again and again. My fingernails dug into his shoulders, using his hard body for leverage as I met his thrusts with my own. He tugged my hair, wrenching my head back to look at his face. Desperate need shone bright through his eyes and I felt a moment’s triumph when he grunted, surging inside me one last time as he came.
I closed my eyes, and held onto his shuddering body. His weight atop me held me secure and I sighed in contentment. “I...”
Love you.
My eyes popped open at the unbidden thought. Horrified at what I’d been about to say, I stared at the ceiling as Jeremiah stirred in my arms, finally rolling off me and onto his feet beside the bed. I swallowed, suddenly breathless – had I really been about to say that?
Silently I moved to the other side of the bed and then fled to the hallway bathroom, bypassing the open area linked to the master bedroom. Locking the door behind me, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, still horrified by my own thought processes.
I’ve known the man for, what, two days? Certainly not long enough to declare any kind of affection. Yet those three words had almost popped out, and that shook me up. My hands shook as I turned on the warm water in the sink and grabbed a wash cloth to clean myself.
I’d never had any real relationships where “the words” had been exchanged. Even as a teen, I’d been too pragmatic to say it in reference to anyone but family. The fact that I’d been poised let them slip out of my mouth caused more than a little distress.
It’s silly to think about that this early, I admonished myself, then remembered my father had always said he’d fallen for my mother the moment he saw her. I swallowed at the memory; my dad had been the romantic of the family, my mom the more practical partner. I’d taken after my mom; I was always one more inclined to look before I leaped, but this whole situation was foreign territory.
There came the sound of knocking, startling me out of my reverie. Poking my head out the door, I heard it again coming from the entrance to the suite. Glad for the distraction, I grabbed a robe off the nearby hook. Slipping it over my body, I padded to the door, peering through the small peep hole. A uniformed hotel worker stood there, holding something in his hands I couldn’t quite make out. Curious, I opened the door a crack. “Yes?”
The man gave a small bow. “A gift for Mr. Hamilton and guest,” he said in flawless English, presenting a bottle and two champagne flutes.
My eyebrows went up and, not knowing what else to do, I took them from the servant’s hands. He gave another little bow, then backed up a step as I closed the door. I turned into the suite, pause
d, then opened the door again. “Do I owe you anything for...” The man had already disappeared, however; so with a shrug I shut and locked the door again, carrying the bottle and glasses into the bedroom.
Jeremiah sprawled in a tall chair, frowning at the phone in his hand. When he saw me, however, his expression cleared and, to my surprise, a small smile spread across his lips. My heart skipped a beat; he was so beautiful, it was hard to believe he was all mine.
For now. I frowned at the pessimistic thought; reality always intruded at the worst times.
He extended his hand. "Come here." When I padded over and took his hand, he said, "Kneel."
I did as he said without thinking, lowering myself to the floor. His hand stroked my hair as I settled to my knees. A part of me wondered why I obeyed him so readily; I wasn’t a card-carrying feminist but I did have my pride. Somehow though, allowing him control gave me a measure of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. I’d been so burdened with my life that, in a way, this felt like a vacation. Seeing the approval in his eyes also made it worthwhile, although the practical side of me refused to delve too deep as to why. “Who was it who called?” I asked.