by BETH KERY
“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” he’d asked her, nodding significantly at the glass of Diet Dr Pepper and a package of opened Jingdots sitting on the table next to her along with the pile of Durand reports, a notebook, and a calculator. Alice had been thrilled to see a large glass jar filled with the addictive candies sitting on the countertop in the massive kitchen.
She’d yanked her gaze off the compelling vision of his ridged, taut abdomen and defined oblique muscles disappearing beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. She’d shaken her head.
“No. I have everything I need right here.”
What a fucking liar you’re becoming.
He’d paused by the corner bedpost. She looked down at the report in her lap fixedly.
“Stubbornness can be a good thing, Alice. But it’s not always a virtue.”
Her pulse had leapt at her throat, his low gravelly growl tickling her ear. She’d kept her gaze on the report, exhibiting said questionable virtue in spades. He’d climbed into bed without another word, shutting off the bedside lamp and lying down with his back turned toward her.
She’d squinted at the page determinedly, but it was no good.
If she really wanted to get anything done, what she needed was for Dylan Fall to be miles away. Having him in bed just feet away wearing nothing but a thin pair of cotton pajama bottoms that left little to the imagination—well, that was doing nothing for her usual concise ability to focus on the numbers.
To think rationally in general.
In fact, his presence in that bed was a powerful magnet to her attention, not to mention her libido. Her sex felt overly sensitive. Hot. The snug material of her jean shorts seemed to tug at her awareness, stimulating her sex unintentionally.
She leaned forward warily and spied around the wing of the chair. He was still turned away from her, as unmoving as a statue.
She touched herself through her jean shorts, biting her lower lip at the pressure. Things felt very humid between her thighs. She rubbed up and down over her clit with her fingertip, pressing firmly, bucking her hips forward slightly. Sensation pulsed through her, delicious and forbidden, and yet strangely insufficient at once. Frustrated, she slid her forefinger beneath the frayed edge of her shorts and touched the edge of her panties. Her finger slipped beneath the elastic.
She was juicy.
She surrendered for a moment to pleasure.
The sound of Dylan moving on the bed penetrated her consciousness. She jerked her hand like she’d been burned, her wrist thumping against the arm of the chair. Guiltily, she scurried for her pen, ducking behind the wing back for cover. For a tense moment, she was afraid to look toward the bed. She stared at the numbers on the page blindly, her heart pounding out a wild rhythm in her ears. She was acutely aware of the dampness of her finger spreading on the pen she clutched.
“Come here.”
She blinked in shock, sure she’d imagined his gravelly command. Her charging heart seemed to pause. Warily, she peered around the chair. He’d turned over in bed, and was facing her. The bed was cast in shadow, but she saw his eyes gleaming from beneath heavy lids. She swallowed convulsively.
“I’m … I’m not finished yet,” she muttered lamely.
“Yes, you are. With that. Come here,” he repeated.
Moving very slowly, she set down the report and stood. She placed the pen she gripped onto the table and started to walk toward the bed. He remained unmoving. His gaze on her was hawklike. Electric. Feeling self-conscious in the spotlight of his attention, she slid her hands against the back of her jean shorts, wiping away her juices.
“Don’t,” he said sharply, sitting up slightly, leaning on his elbow.
“Don’t what?” she wondered, her knee bumping against the side of the bed.
He reached for her right wrist. Oh no. He held her hand in front of his face. She held her breath as he peered at her fingers with narrowed eyes. Thank God, she’d wiped most of the evidence of her arousal on her shorts. Her finger glistened a little still, but it might have been from her soda can or perspiration.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled, pulling on her hand. Instead of freeing her, he lifted her fingers to his face.
To his nose. He inhaled. She froze. He met her stare, and her eyes went wide at what she saw. He looked very hard in that moment. Feral, but fierce. Focused.
“I don’t appreciate that, Alice,” he said, his quiet tone striking her as ominous. She shivered.
“Appreciate what?” she sidestepped.
“I don’t appreciate you insinuating you don’t need to be touched—that you can do without sex tonight—when it’s obvious you’re lying.”
“It’s not obvious—” She gasped loudly, stunned. He’d opened his lips and inserted her finger into his mouth. He laved the skin with a warm tongue, sucking slightly … searching. Something pulled like a fishhook at her very core. Heat rushed through her.
“There’s nothing more obvious than that,” he said with a significant glance after he’d slid her finger out of his mouth. Alice just stared at him, speechless. He looked beyond hungry.
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
“Why?” she whispered stupidly. His manner tonight excited her almost unbearably, but she was wary as well.
“Because I’m going to spank you for being so stubborn,” he said. His hard mouth flickered. “Then I’m going to make you scream in pleasure because you’re so stubborn. Now go on,” he urged. “Take off your clothes. I want to watch.”
She might have been able to resist if his mouth hadn’t softened with humor. Or if his face hadn’t gone all rigid and forbidding once again when he said he wanted to watch while she undressed. He wasn’t really as intimidating as she sometimes imagined. It was lust that made him seem so hard at times.
And he did want her. Bad. It was written all over his face and in every line of his coiled muscles in that moment. The knowledge empowered her. She wanted him just as bad. It was an awesome, scary thing, when you looked unblinkingly into the face of desire.
She slid out of the canvas shoes she was wearing and unfastened the top button of her shorts.
“I don’t want to be spanked,” she said as her fingers lowered. Even the indirect pressure of her fingers sent her sex to tingling.
“We’ll see,” he said enigmatically, his seductive gaze following the path of her fingers. Her fingers reached the lowest button. “Touch yourself again. Like you did over there in the chair.”
She paused. “You were spying,” she accused.
“I was watching you work,” he replied without a trace of guilt. “When I saw you touch yourself, it was just an added benefit. Do it now. While I’m watching,” he demanded tensely. His fixed stare between her thighs seemed to have weight. She moved her fingers over her damp underwear, stimulating her labia and clit. God, she was wet. They moaned in unison. Suddenly, his hand was on her wrist again and he was lifting her hand to his mouth. He sucked her first two fingers into his warm mouth. She watched him suck and tongue her, trembling in the face of his hot greed.
A moment later, her fingers popped out of his mouth and he pushed her hand back between her legs. He pressed her damp fingers between the opened fly of her shorts. He moved his arm, maneuvering her in an up-and-down action, forcing her to touch herself. No, not forcing her. She was quite cooperative. His added pressure and guidance made her more stringent than she would have been normally, that’s all. She quaked, it felt so good. His eyes seemed to blaze as he watched himself manipulate her. Then he let go. She kept at it, though, rubbing her pussy rigorously between her opened fly, giving him exactly what he’d asked for, giving herself what she needed.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he said thickly, his face hovering close to her thighs. “That’s mine to watch, Alice,” he breathed out.
She wanted to disagree with him, but something about the almost worshipful way he watched her as she masturbated stilled her tongue. Besides, his blatant possessive
ness at that moment turned her on. Maybe there were different shades of the truth when it came to a desire this powerful.
“For now it is,” she agreed, slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear and dipping her fingers into abundant cream. In that moment, it pleased her to say it. Her pleasure was his. She stirred in her juicy sex, biting her lip to stifle a rough moan. Dylan didn’t bother censoring himself. He groaned harshly and placed a large hand on her ass, pushing her to him. He jerked her panties down roughly and pressed his face between her thighs. His tongue slid between her stroking fingers. She cried out shakily at the sensation of his tongue burrowing between her labia and laving her clit firmly. She moved aside her hand, instinctively bowing down to his obvious mastery at the task. Shivers of distilled pleasure convulsed her body.
It all happened so fast. So completely. One moment, she’d half-resisted him.
The next, she was his to do with whatever he wanted.
He covered her outer sex and applied that suction that made her eyes cross while he agitated her clit with his tongue. Her fingers sank into his thick hair, mussing it wantonly. She lost herself for a blissful moment, lost herself to him …
She cried out when he lifted his head from between her thighs. He used his fingers to part her labia, and for a lung-burning second, he just stared between her thighs while she looked down at him. He hadn’t brought her off with his firm, lashing tongue, but he’d come close. So close. Alice came close, too.
To begging.
Before she could, he dropped his hands and scooted up in the bed to a seated position, his abdomen muscles flexing. She just stood there, dazed and strung tight as a vibrating wire.
“Take off the rest of your clothes and come down in my lap,” he said as he tossed a few pillows behind him and leaned back.
A protest rose to her tongue, but she stilled it as she looked down over his body. His arousal was flagrant and awesome, tenting the thin cotton of his pajama bottoms. She could clearly see the shape of the slightly tapered, fat cockhead through the material. Her mouth went dry, her protest evaporating.
It’s nothing serious. It’s just sex. Just playing around. You’re almost twenty-four years old, isn’t this the time of your life you’re supposed to be having a little fun? It all would have sounded great in her head if another voice wasn’t insisting at the same time that Dylan Fall was the exact opposite of a meaningless joy ride; more like riding a rocket into uncharted portions of the galaxy.
She cleared her throat, jerking her gaze off his erection and began to strip off her clothes. When she finally peeled her bra off her breasts, he held out his hands to her. She went.
She had a sketchy idea of what he wanted. He wanted her to lie in his lap so that he could spank her. Her cheeks flamed at the idea as she came down on the mattress on her knees and lowered over his hard thighs. His hand on her waist urged her higher. She halted and bit her lip at the sensation of the crown of his erect cock brushing against her belly. The thin material of his pajama bottoms felt very insubstantial, their mere presence a tease of his nakedness. His hand curved around a bare buttock.
“Come all the way down,” he urged, guiding her with his hand. When she’d finally settled, her breasts were on the outside of one of his hard thighs, her bottom draped over the edge of the other, and his cock was burning a swath of her skin along her belly and between her ribs. Her awareness of his cock throbbing against her was so acute, she held her breath.
“Relax,” he said, caressing her hip, ass, and thigh.
“That’s easy for you to say,” she muttered.
He paused in caressing her bottom. His stroking hand had been very distracting.
“You’ve never been spanked before?”
“No, not like this” she sputtered, frowning. “Just, you know …”
“What?” he asked.
“Last night.”
“Oh, right,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. He resumed caressing her. “That wasn’t the same thing. That was in the heat of the moment. This will be more deliberate, do you understand?”
His patient tone, his hand stroking her bare skin and the feeling of his erection pulsing against her belly were all making it hard for her to focus. “You don’t need to make it sound like I’m a stupid schoolgirl or something. Not everyone is into kink like you.”
He snorted with laughter. She craned around to see his face.
“What?” she demanded.
He shook his head, forcing his smile to fade when he saw her outraged uncertainty.
“Easy, Alice.” Something swelled tight in her chest as their gazes held. His fingers lowered, tickling the tender skin just between her thighs and near her sex. Her brittle defenses shattered. She sagged against his hard thighs and awesome erection.
“I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said quietly. “You’re just so …”
“What?”
“Prickly. Sweet.” He forced her thighs to part with a gentle, pressing fist. She gasped as he penetrated her slick slit with his finger. His facial muscles went rigid. “It’s true that I want to fuck you pretty much 24-7,” he said as he pushed his finger in and out of her and she bit her lip at the pressure. “It’s true that I want to do any number of kinky things to you, as you put it. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you,” he told her pointedly, his finger still moving between her thighs.
“You don’t even know me,” she whispered hoarsely, her gaze held captive by his.
“I know more than you think. And what I don’t know, I’m going to discover.”
“Dylan,” she said heatedly because he withdrew his finger and rubbed the extra lubrication into her outer sex with rigorous precision.
“You’re soaking wet.” She moaned shakily, speechless in the face of her desire. Her clit burned deliciously under his finger. His mouth went hard. He lifted his hand and gently pushed at the back of her head, urging her forehead to the soft sheets. “When your mouth isn’t killing me, your eyes are,” he stated harshly. “Keep your head down while I spank you.”
For once, she had no response. She bit her lip in wretched excitement as he caressed her bare ass, leaving a trail of her juices with his finger. He lifted his hand and swatted the bottom curve of both her buttocks.
She moaned uncontrollably at the sharp crack of skin against skin and the brisk impact. His cock leapt against her, sending her excitement up another notch. His spank stung, but quickly transformed to an arousing burn. She squirmed in his lap, agitated and aroused. He placed one hand at the base of her spine, stilling her ass, and spanked her three times in taut succession.
“Stop squirming.” A thrill went through her at his harsh, desire-bitten tone. She stilled with effort. His cock throbbed beneath her. Her bottom burned. His big hand rubbed the tingling skin. She couldn’t muffle her moan of arousal.
“Was it too hard? Because you have to tell me if it was, and I’ll attenuate.”
She merely shook her head, rolling her forehead on the mattress. He ceased stroking her ass for a moment. She almost could feel his focused attention on her.
“You liked it?”
His low voice curled around her like a caress. She made a sound of assent. It was all she could do, biting her lip as hard as she was. It was humiliating to lie in his lap naked like this, exposed and vulnerable while he spanked her bottom. And yet, she’d never been more excited in her life. He lifted his hand. Her blood raced like a flash flood in her veins. Her sex and ass muscles clenched.
He popped her ass several more times with a cupped palm. When she couldn’t stop herself from squirming against his raging erection, he grabbed one ass cheek and squeezed it tight before peppering the captive flesh with spanks.
“Stay still, Alice,” he insisted. He paused, rubbing the globe of punished flesh as if to soothe the sting. It only frothed her excitement more.
“I can’t,” she wailed.
He delved his fingers into the short hair at the back of
her head and forced her to turn her head. In her peripheral vision, she saw him studying her profile narrowly. “Am I hurting you?” he demanded.
“No. I mean … it stings a little, but …”
“What?”
“Don’t stop,” she begged shakily.
He either grunted or cursed, she wasn’t sure which. She never figured it out, either, because his hand was falling, cracking her ass several times, making her burn. Everywhere.
Oh God, what was wrong with her? She’d grown feverish. How could she possibly like this so much?
Distantly, she realized he’d stopped spanking her, although he rubbed her ass with his free hand. She heard the bedside drawer open as if he’d jerked it tautly.
“What are you doing?” she asked shakily.
“Giving you what you deserve.”
Her eyes sprang wide at his grim response. What did she deserve? Something worse than his hand, perhaps? A paddle or whip? Alarmed and curious, she lifted her head and started to twist around. Despite her flash of anxiety, she was also highly aware of the slight dampness at a spot on her upper belly. He was so aroused, so hard, that his desire was seeping through the fabric of his pajama bottoms. She had a sudden urge to gaze down at him, and started to raise herself.
“Put your head down, Alice,” Dylan told her. Something about the edge to his tone made her follow his command. Then he was sliding his left hand between their pressing bodies.
“Oh … Jesus,” she cried out when he pressed against her clit, and it began to buzz. “What the hell—”
“It’s a vibrator. Come, Alice,” he demanded, before he began spanking her ass again.
She wasn’t really sure what happened next, except for that she short-circuited as pleasure swamped her. Her orgasm was almost harsh it was so powerful. She came thunderously to the cracking sound of his palm against her ass and the sensation of his cock throbbing furiously beneath her.
He thrust his finger high into her. The vibrator continued to buzz her clit ruthlessly. She cried out as another wave of orgasm shuddered through her. She was vaguely aware of him talking.