He chuckled and ignored her loud complaints, tossing the recapped Nipsicle back on the nightstand. Then he picked up the dildo and vibrator. “Not that I’m complaining here, because I’m having me some real fun, but what were you planning with all this stuff? Got to say, I’m a little jealous if it was a one-woman party you had in mind.”
“Mack!” her voice took on a panicked, high-pitched note as she squirmed frantically on top of the pillows.
“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, fake concern lacing his voice. “You uncomfortable? Too cold for you down there?” He ran his finger over her clit, which was engorged from the cooling effects of the Nipsicle.
She screamed and jerked hard against the handcuffs. “Whoa,” he grunted, reaching over top of her to grab her wrists. He spoke in her ear, his voice low and intense, vibrating with a need he held barely in check. He might be playing with her body, but his own lust was just as heightened as hers. “You need to settle down, Lucy. I’m not done tormenting this delicious fucking body, but I won’t have you hurting yourself either.”
She whimpered and buried her face in the pillow, willing her hips to be still. Her entire being felt centered on her poor tortured clitoris. She could think of nothing else in that moment except relieving the agonizing pressure that was pooled there. Until Mack began pressing the dildo into her heated, well-lubricated pussy. She flung her head back and uttered a guttural moan of sheer satisfaction as he pushed the hard, lengthy object into her.
“Like that, do you?” he muttered from over her shoulder.
“Oh my god, yes!” she yelled, pushing back as hard as she could, chasing the sensations he was forcing onto her. Her eyes rolled back and she panted, nothing but a mindless mass of sensation.
He began pumping the dildo in and out of her creating a rhythm that stole her breath and pleasured her at the same time. Her hips moved in time with his thrusts, her over-sensitized clit brushing agonizingly against the softness of the pillow. It took almost no time before she was approaching orgasm, her thrusting hips becoming more and more frenzied and her moans quickly turning to pleas. He pressed the dildo hard against the front wall of her vagina, sending her soaring close to the edge and then he pulled it out.
“Mack!” she screamed as she crashed back down to earth, her orgasm lost. Her clit throbbed and her body vibrated with the need to come.
Mack leaned across her body. His chest, slick with sweat, slid against her shoulder. He shoved his tongue in her ear, drawing another yelp from her as every erogenous zone she had lit up. “Welcome, to edging, baby,” he growled in her ear.
“I hate it!” she yelled as he moved back down her body.
“Good, then we found a punishment that might stick.”
“Fuck that!” she growled.
He slapped her ass hard, then ran his hand caressingly over the stinging flesh. He nudged her thighs further apart and dipped his fingers into her heated pussy. He leaned across her and picked up another item from the nightstand. She jerked her head to the side to see him grab the bottle of lube. Why would she need lubrication, she was already wetter than a damn lake?
She found out exactly what the lube was for the second it hit her ass. She jerked and yelped in surprise, yanking on the handcuffs. He made an annoyed sound, but she drowned him out when she began protesting. “Mack, let’s talk about this. I don’t think I’m ready for whatever you might be planning. I was a virgin just a few short weeks ago and maybe my butt needs to stay that way for a while longer, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think,” he chuckled. “What I do think, is that you should’ve bought a ball-gag while you were out supply shopping.”
She frowned. “I don’t think they had those… hey! That’s not very nice.”
“Never said I was a nice guy, baby,” he muttered. “Take a deep breath and then release it slowly when I tell you.”
“What?” she screeched, then she felt something hard press against her ass. Nothing happened at first until Mack pressed harder, then it slowly, steadily slid past the barrier of her anal ring, eased by the lubrication. She gasped and then immediately did as Mack suggested and took a deep breath in.
“Now breath out, slow and steady,” he commanded her.
She did as he told her, trusting him not to hurt her, despite the large, foreign feeling object pressed inside her anal passage. She instinctively tried to close her legs, but his hips were wedged between her thighs, forcing her to remain wide open for his ministrations. She whimpered, bit her lip and stayed as still as possible, afraid if she moved it would hurt. She could tell that the thing in her ass was the vibrator and not the dildo, because the dildo would have been a much more intimidating prospect.
Plus, almost as soon as it was in, Mack turned it on.
“Ahhhhh!” she yelled, her shaking hands rattling the handcuffs against the headboard as she tried to grip something, anything. The vibrations rippled through her ass and into every part of her body, including her clitoris, the overstimulation almost unbearable; the unreleased orgasm agonizing.
Then Mack pressed the dildo back into her pussy, stretching her completely, filling her until she was positive she couldn’t possibly take any more. She cried and begged for him to stop. Then, he began moving it like before, creating a rhythm that drove her insane with pleasure until she was whimpering and begging him to let her come. But the moment she approached an explosive peak and he stopped, pulling the dildo out, she screamed at him to put it back in.
“You’re too close to the edge, baby,” he growled, leaning over top of her again, sliding his hands over her bare body. “If I put it back, you’ll come all over this little toy.”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, that’s what I want!”
“No, Lucy.” He licked a path down her spine and bit her ass, making her jump from the sharpness of his teeth on her flesh and then she shrieked at the feeling of the vibrator buried within her, completely overwhelmed. “You’re going to come all over my dick.”
He leaned back, and the bed shifted. Then she heard him unzip his jeans and yank them off his long, muscular legs. She groaned with impatience when she heard the denim hit the floor. Her mouth watered in anticipation while her body hummed in anticipation, every part of her lit up with need. He climbed up behind her and pushed her knees apart with his, sliding them up her sides, until she was stretched taut and wide. He leaned over her body, covering her completely and positioned himself at her entrance.
He whispered in her ear, “This is gonna be tight, baby. I’m a hell of a lot bigger than that little pink toy you bought.”
“Just do it!” she begged breathlessly.
He growled and thrust forward, filling her to the hilt with his heated flesh. She was so primed from his play and the continuous vibrations in her backside that she started coming as soon as his massive cock pressed inside her, hitting everything good along the way. She shuddered uncontrollably, the handcuffs rattling as she shouted her orgasm into the pillow. Mack groaned as she came in his arms and all over his cock.
He pressed his arms over hers, wrapping his fingers possessively around her slim wrists, holding her tight as he fucked her into another orgasm, taking her higher and higher. Finally, unable to hold back in the face of such bounty, he slammed himself home one last time and shot his seed deep within her clasping passage, claiming her once more as his.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I’m not wearing that,” Jane announced, her voice more strident than it had been in days. “You wear it. Oh god, I think it has lace. Gross, Anya. What are you even thinking? Drop it, drop it now or I’ll put bullet holes in it.”
Lucy had been distracted, dwelling on yet another argument she’d had with Mack that morning before he dropped her off at her sister’s house to go dress shopping with Jane and Jane’s sister-in-law, Anastasia. Jane’s amazing ability to turn every situation into a battle zone was providing some amusement from Lucy’s depression. Anya rolled her eyes and, heaving an exaggerated sigh, shoved the go
rgeous dress back on the rack and faced Jane, hands on her hips.
“We both know that threat won’t work with me,” the tiny purple-haired pixie-like Russian woman said. “I happen to know my brother confiscated your weapon before we left. So, you can just deal for five damn minutes, pick a freaking dress and get your scrawny ass into one of those change rooms.”
Anya and Jane faced off for a moment while Lucy watched, a small smile playing at her lips. Both were small women, probably around 5’3”, fine-boned and feisty. Anya wore a periwinkle blue tutu over black leggings and a black pleather bustier. Jane wore dark blue jeans, torn at the knees from wear not fashion and a T-shirt that said, “BIG dick here” with an arrow pointing down. Jane’s idea of a joke because she was a private investigator. Lucy had no idea how Vladimir let her out of the house like that unless he didn’t see it under Jane’s jacket.
Finally, Jane ended her standoff with Anya by snatching a random dress off the rack and stalking toward the change rooms. Anya slapped Jane’s ass as she walked by and then danced out of the wrath zone. Jane growled and bared her teeth at the other woman while Lucy smothered a laugh.
“I think that one had puffy sleeves,” Anya whispered loudly and then laughed. “She really should have looked at it first.”
“It was pretty bad,” Lucy agreed, unleashing her own giggles while she browsed the racks, pulling dresses that might actually appeal to her fashion backwards sister. How her sister managed to spend 15 years in the city without picking up any sense of style was incomprehensible to Lucy who had learned to dress herself fashionably within weeks.
“Grab the black Gucci,” Anya suggested pointing toward another rack with several simple but beautiful dresses. “She won’t thank us for our interference, but she’ll look gorgeous nonetheless.”
Lucy laughed and picked up a couple of dresses in two different sizes, aware of Jane’s subtly changing breasts and hips. “Do you think she’ll let me help with her hair and make-up?” Lucy asked hopefully. “I really wish you were with us instead of the bridal party. Not that I want to steal you away from Ms. Cantore’s big day, but you seem to be able to bully her in a way that I can’t.”
“That is because I have Sitnikov blood running in these veins,” Anya said sternly, injecting an unnaturally thick Russian accent into her voice. “You cross me, you cross the Boss himself.” Both women burst out laughing. “And for the record, I think you’ll have about as much luck getting makeup on that mini beast as you would doing the hair and make-up for a crocodile. But have fun trying. Maybe get her to do a few vodka shots first.”
It was on the tip of Lucy’s tongue to remind Anya that Jane could no longer drink when she realized Anya didn’t know that her sister-in-law was pregnant. Lucy did a quick count and decided that Jane was eleven or twelve weeks along. Maybe she and Vlad were holding on to their news until Jane was feeling more comfortable? So far, every time Lucy tried to bring the pregnancy up with her sister, Jane changed the subject or became outright obstinate. Lucy was about ready to insist her sister tell her what was bothering her, but they never had the chance to talk privately. Mack or Vlad were always around.
The change room door banged open so hard that every woman in the vicinity jumped and all eyes riveted on Jane who was standing in the doorway of the change room looking utterly livid. Lucy and Anya started laughing at the exact same time, unable to hold back the peals of giggles as they clutched each other and pointed at the deeply unamused woman standing in what could only be described as the worst prom dress of all time.
“This has to be a joke,” Jane said from between gritted teeth. “I don’t give two fucks about fashion and even I know a dress like this doesn’t belong in a store like this.”
“Oh my god, oh… oh my gosh…” Anya said repeatedly, trying to catch her breath while wiping the tears from beneath her eyelids. “I-it’s called a nostalgia dress, based on what was popular in the 80’s.”
“Why does it look so fucking bad?” Jane asked, truly bewildered as she held the shiny seaweed-coloured taffeta skirt out and made a face. “I feel like I should be covered in pig’s blood Carrie-style.”
The dress, combined with Jane’s utter confusion and her severe hairstyle set the two women laughing again.
Jane narrowed her eyes. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this. Swear to god, you are so lucky I don’t have a gun.”
“Janie’s got a gun!” Anya burst out laughing again and then corrected herself. “Actually, she doesn’t ‘cause my brother took it away since she’s too trigger happy.”
“H-here, try these,” Lucy said, gasping for breath and handing over an armful of dresses.
Jane snatched them and stomped back into the change room, slamming the door behind her.
“Okay, now your turn,” Anya said attempting to collect herself. “What sort of style should we go for?” She eyed the younger woman. Lucy was reminded sharply of her conversation with Mack that morning and her face fell a little. Anya’s sharp blue eyes took note. “Everything okay?”
Lucy shrugged. “It’s just my boyfriend. He’s not really happy about this wedding.”
Anya looked taken aback for a moment and then tilted her head to the side. “You’re seeing Mack Hudson, right? Why does he care about my bestie, Claudia, hitching herself to Tyson King?”
Lucy smiled. “Oh, he doesn’t care what they do. It’s me he cares about and virtually everything I get up to.”
“Uh huh,” Anya said, her blue eyes dimming a little. “So it’s like that, is it?”
“Pretty much.”
“And his problem with the wedding?” Anya asked gently, fingering the soft, stretchy fabric of an elegant dress.
“I’ve been informed by your brother that I have to attend this wedding with the Russians. That this is important for appearances and any interference on Mack’s part won’t be tolerated. Vladimir did say Mack was welcome to join our party, but that I must ride and sit with the Sitnikov’s. Which does make sense since I’m technically invited because of them.”
Anya handed Lucy the lovely dress from the rack. “Of course you should go with the Sitnikov’s. It makes sense and you’ve only been seeing this guy for a few weeks. Uh, not that I’m one to talk. I hooked up with Ash pretty super quick, but we slowed down when I said I needed some space. He respected my decision.”
Lucy nodded dismally catching the implication. Mack was not respecting her decisions, which was fast becoming a problem. Her heart wanted that man and the thought of being apart from him hurt, but she was too young to be bullied into every little thing. Before long, she would turn into his mindless doll, with no thoughts or actions left to call her own.
“I take it he doesn’t want to go to the wedding with the Sitnikov’s?” Anya asked, adding another gown to Lucy’s pile.
Lucy heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Can you blame him? Considering the politics involved in this event, it makes quite a statement to be seen with Vladimir Sitnikov.”
Anya nodded. “Indeed, it does.” Then her voice hardened. “But Mack Hudson isn’t without his own shadowed reputation in this city. That man isn’t an angel and if he plans on escorting a close relative of Vladimir Sitnikov, then he better damn well get used to the association.”
Lucy blinked in surprise and then began to smile. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. Thank you for a little bit of perspective, Anya. The man keeps declaring that he wants me, but he won’t take the things that go with me, like my family or my need for a little bit of independence. I’m too young for this kind of horse shit.”
Anya laughed out loud. “Well stated and I absolutely agree.”
“What about this?” Jane said from behind them. “I think I can manage to not maim anyone at the reception in something like this.”
Both women turned around. Jane stood, looking both exceptionally pretty, yet very awkward and uncertain in the sleeveless black Gucci dress that landed about mid-thigh and hugged her new curves deliciously.
“P
erfect,” Lucy said.
“You better wear a full-length coat over that shit, or my brother isn’t going to let you out the front door,” Anya declared with a grin.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Things seemed to cool considerably between Mack and Lucy over the next few days as the wedding approached. She was practically living at his house full-time at his insistence, sleeping in his bed, sharing meals with him and accepting rides to and from the diner from him. But they barely spoke and when they did, he was almost never civilized. The only place they communicated was in bed where, oddly enough, his lovemaking had taken on a tender, almost desperate turn. As though he knew he was driving her away and needed to cling to her in those moments. Speaking to her through actions when words failed him.
Lucy lay awake, watching her sleeping boyfriend. Dawn edged through the drawn curtains, caressing his features. Used to farm hours, she was almost always awake before him unless he had to work. Her eyes traced the hard lines of his face and body. Even in sleep he didn’t soften. He was always on edge, always ready to take out the enemy. One arm was thrown over his head while the other rested between them. It had been splayed across her stomach while they slept but dropped to the mattress during the night. Mack liked to touch her, keep tabs on her at all times, whether they were conscious or not.
She studied the muscles of his arms and torso where the blankets had fallen away and sighed in sheer female fascination – he was such a mouth-wateringly delicious good-looking man. Even hard-living farm life hadn’t shaped the men in her community like this. But she also sighed in resignation. Those muscles also signified a strength that far outstripped her own; that took away her power at every turn, every time they had a conversation he didn’t like.
Careful not to jostle him Lucy pulled her legs up from beneath the covers and rolled away. She would make breakfast for them, perhaps soothe the beast before he started snapping at her about the wedding again. Before she could take a single step off the bed she was seized from behind and yanked back around to land face down on top of a very hard surface. Very hard, all over.
In His Sights (Fire & Vice Book 7) Page 15