Tempted by a Dangerous Man

by Cleo Peitsche

  Corbin kissed my head—or my hat, rather—and then released me. “Go warm up.” He headed toward the shed.

  I started to follow, but he waved me away.

  “Might as well,” I insisted. “I’m out here.”

  “I need to check the wood. There’s a leak in the back.”

  “Let me check the wood,” I said in my sluttiest voice.

  No response. Grinning, I bent and scooped up a handful of snow. I quickly formed it into a fairly lethal snowball—Rob and I hadn’t gone easy on each other as kids. When Corbin stepped out of the shed to squint at a log in the daylight, I let the snowball fly.

  It slammed into his shoulder with a satisfying thump.

  “Oops,” I said, barely containing my laughter.

  Corbin froze.

  With his back to me, I couldn’t guess what he was thinking.

  “Sorry!” I called out. Nervousness made me sound insincere. Or maybe it was the fact that snowballs didn’t form themselves and magically launch at people that made me sound like I was teasing him.

  He slowly turned, raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you’re sorry,” he said. But then he slowly packed a tight snowball and carefully set it next to the shed.

  “I am.”

  “Just don’t let it happen again.” His voice was thick with promises that prompted vivid fantasies about dragging him into the shed and ripping off his clothes.

  He went back into the shed, and I found myself rolling another snowball between my gloved palms while I snickered in anticipation. I missed his back but caught his forearm.

  Corbin didn’t look at me, just rolled another snowball and placed it next to the first one.

  What was wrong with me that his silent little threats got me so hot?

  My next throw thudded into his chest and dissolved on impact.

  He shot me a peeved look. “Really?” He dropped the wood, gathered up the snowballs, and stalked toward me, his movements slow but very focused, his face an expressionless mask. I retreated, grabbed up another snowball, threw it. He ignored me, kept coming, crouched, grabbed a handful of snow in the blink of an eye.

  Damn. The man was fast.

  My breath caught. At that moment, I knew exactly how that owl’s prey felt. My galloping pulse was ready to carry me into the next state.

  But instead I made another snowball. Threw it. Corbin stopped. He squatted and quickly rolled a half dozen more snowballs. I kept pummeling him, and his hair and coat were covered in powdery white.

  Then he stood, a line of balls cradled in his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I shrieked, laughing so hard that my last throw went wide.

  “Run,” he advised.

  With his voice all growly like that, running was the last thing on my mind. However, one look at his face convinced me that it was a suggestion worth heeding.

  I pivoted and immediately saw that I was truly screwed. Without snowshoes, I couldn’t dart into the trees without being swallowed up.

  I turned back, wagging my hands in front of me, trying to deflect snowballs that he hadn’t even thrown. Yet. “Mercy!” I gasped, laughing but terrified.

  He grunted. “Makes me hot when you say that.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a BDSM thing.”

  Heat twisted through me as I continued to back away from him. I scraped snow off of a shrub, balled it up, launched it at him.

  He let one of his missiles fly, hit my ankle. I squealed, turned, instinctively protecting my face and chest.

  Corbin got my ass with his next throw. Then he hit my ass again, this time harder.

  And again.

  And again.

  I thrust my hands behind my rear, tried to protect it. “Mercy!” I pleaded. “I said mercy. You have to stop.”

  “Do I?” Corbin grabbed my shoulders, spun me around. He pressed his body up against mine, and I again appreciated his snow pants. “That’s not how it works,” he said.

  I noticed that Corbin had a very faint smattering of freckles across his cheeks. I would never have claimed to know his body perfectly, but it surprised me that I hadn’t seen them before.

  But then… I hadn’t seen him in such bright light, either. In the sun, his electric eyes were radiant, like they absorbed the energy, burned with it.

  My perusal of Corbin’s features was cut short as he captured my face between his hands and tilted my head back. His gaze wandered from my eyes to my mouth, then back to my eyes.

  “Part your lips for me.”

  Desire roared through me as I obeyed, and Corbin, his eyes staring into mine, traced his tongue over my lips. “Suck my tongue,” he said, then thrust it into my mouth.

  Moaning, I sucked him greedily. I was so horny, wanted him so bad. He shoved his tongue deeper into me, then, slowly, pulled away, holding my head still. He pressed a kiss to my lips, and I groaned.

  “Go inside.” He released me then, but our bodies remained pressed close together.

  “Let me suck you.”

  “Audrey.” Smiling, he tucked one of my curls under my hat. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Fuck me like the wanton slut I am?” I asked hopefully.

  “Inside, woman! You’re distracting me, and I need to take care of the wood before it’s dark.” He turned me and marched me back toward the cabin.

  “It’s because I’m…” I tried in vain to push against him. “I’m horny. And from what I can tell, I’m not the only one.”

  He laughed. “What’s new?”

  I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Please let me suck your dick at least.”

  That stopped him. We stood in the silent, snowy middle-of-nowhere while Corbin weighed the pros and cons of my offer.

  “Not quite sure what there is to consider,” I said, piqued.

  He pushed me toward the door. I struggled, trying to break free of his hold. “I meant that I’ll get on my knees and swallow the whole thing down my throat. It would be an honor for me to serve you, sir.”

  Despite the very slight mocking edge to my words, I found myself being hustled back toward the shed. Didn’t matter. I liked having him in my mouth, tasting him. It was the only time I had the least bit of control, my only opportunity to even the score between us.

  He pushed me inside, crowded in after me until I was shoved up against a shifting, poking pile of logs. I wiggled my hips and rubbed against the gloriously hard bulge in his pants.

  “No,” he said. He caught my face in one hand, pinching my cheeks and forcing my jaw open. He leaned in slowly, his breath faint puffs in the air. Then he swept his tongue into my mouth.

  I couldn’t kiss him back, so I just stayed still, allowing him to tongue-fuck my mouth. But inside I was a boiling, churning mess of sexual frustration. Because it was already clear that he planned to drag this out.

  My eyes fluttered closed as I whimpered. I tried to talk but his grip was too tight. Finally, when Corbin grew tired of tongue-fucking and licking me like his personal lollipop, he forced me to my knees, my hands trailing helplessly down the front of his rock-hard body.

  I looked up at him.

  He smiled wickedly, pulled his pants down so that only his cock and balls were exposed. Up close, his large erection was insurmountably daunting. Oh, I’d had him before—all of him—down my throat, but it hadn’t been easy. The considerable length of his shaft posed one problem. The girth, though, was the real challenge, and I regretted my boasting.

  “Maybe…” I began, trying to think of a way to retract my offer without losing face or triggering his sadistic streak.

  “Open.”

  I blinked up at him. The way the light slanted into the shed, I couldn’t see his face; he had been reduced to a masculine outline, a jutting, hungry cock that needed to be satisfied.

  And then the swollen, velvety head slid between my lips. I started to open wider, but Corbin stopped me. “Stay still,” he said. He held my head steady and gently rocked the bulbous tip into my mouth. I felt it
flattening my tongue, and I could taste him, slightly salty, completely delicious.

  He pulled back, let the head of his cock tug at my lower lip. Then he inched forward again.

  I tried to move away.

  “Hands on top of your head,” he ordered.

  Well, that was different. Always a new twist. I did as he asked.

  “Perfect,” he said. “Brace yourself.” He shoved his erection all the way down my throat, making my shoulders hunch as I fought my gag reflex.

  Then I understood. Corbin was going to fuck my mouth roughly, without pity, and he wanted to see my hands so that if I snapped my fingers—my safe gesture—he wouldn’t miss it.

  He pulled out, gave me a moment to catch my breath, then crammed deep again, this time pushing until his body was shoved up against my face, blocking my nose.

  I panicked a little, grabbed onto his wrists.

  “It’s ok,” he breathed. “You can leave your hands there.” He pressed his hips forward more. Even though it didn’t get him deeper, it established that he was in control.

  Corbin had been the first man to dominate me. The first man to make me feel wanted. The first to spoil me, to rescue me, to put my wellbeing ahead of his own desires.

  In my mind, I was well aware that these things didn’t necessarily have anything to do with each other. But in my heart, everything about him was wrapped together. Change one thing—the color of his eyes, the timbre of his voice, the way that he dominated me, let me fight him but then controlled me—and the whole thing might fall apart. I needed him so much that it turned me superstitious.

  That was why I craved his control.

  Or so I told myself.

  I could feel that I’d soaked my panties. I moaned, then began to choke. Corbin held himself in me a moment before giving me space to breathe, and I slumped back on my heels.

  “Today I’m going to finish in your mouth,” he warned in a low growl as he plucked off my hat. He laced his fingers in my hair and twisted them tight, bringing me up onto my knees. My arms flailed, then I moved my hands to his hips. Like that would ever stop him from hurting me if he wanted to.

  My eyes stung with tears as he established the rhythm that I needed to follow if I wanted to avoid choking.

  Thrust in fast.

  Hold it… hold it… pull out slow.

  Fast, hold until I was almost asphyxiated, pull back slow. Over and over.

  I felt him swell in my mouth, felt that his cock had gotten a little slicker, his taste a little saltier. He pulled out, and I closed my mouth as I swallowed all that saliva. The head of his cock pressed against my lips, then shoved in.

  I could feel a shudder passing through his cock, and I thought surely he must be coming. I was wrong.

  “You horny, baby?”

  Horny didn’t begin to describe the aching, burning feeling that had spread from between my legs to cover every inch of my body. But I didn’t dare make a sound to acknowledge his question; as deep as he was, it wouldn’t be pleasant if I gagged again.

  He pulled back, his cock springing free of my lips, and he hauled me to my feet. “Take down your pants. Let me see your pussy.”

  Smiling, I hurried to obey before he changed his mind. As soon as my pussy was exposed to the raw cold air, Corbin forced his hand between my legs and penetrated me with two fingers.

  I whimpered, went weak, fell against him. He held me up easily, slammed his fingers into my tight, clenching wetness.

  My hips tilted toward him. With the side of my face pressed against his chest, I could hear his heart pounding despite the clothes between us and the winter wind blowing outside the shed.

  He pulled his fingers free.

  “No!” I gasped. He drew his fingers into his mouth, sucked them, then pressed them into my mouth.

  Even though I wanted to suck him—would have happily debased myself in any way he wanted—I turned away. He loved to make me suck his fingers, but I found it embarrassing. And I knew he was toying with me, had no intention of fucking me. So why go along?

  His deep, quiet laugh made my insides tingle. “Open, baby.” He turned my head toward him and kissed me, slid his fingers between the seal of our lips and into my mouth. “Suck me,” he whispered into my mouth.

  I sucked. Swallowed. Gave his fingers a damned good blow job. When he pulled away, I greedily followed after him.

  “Now you’re hungry.” He grabbed me, lifted me easily and flipped me, and before I realized what was happening, I was laid out on a stack of logs. They shifted under my back, and the icy, rough bark dug into my bare buttocks. My head had no support at all.

  And the reason for that was immediately clear as Corbin’s stiff cock drew closer to my face.

  He fisted the shaft and guided it to my lips. He didn’t instruct me to open. Didn’t need to. I was so desperate that I happily softened for him. I bunched my fists in his shirt.

  “No. I need one of your hands up here.” He caught my wrist, pulled my arm up and placed his hand loosely over it. “You know how to stop me,” he said, slowly pressing forward.

  I stiffened. Being on my knees and sucking him took control and concentration that I hadn’t quite yet mastered, and I expected this to be even more difficult. But as my airway filled with his pulsing sex, I realized it was actually much easier, that the angle fit better. If only he weren’t so huge, it might have been fun.

  Then I felt warm air stirring over my pussy, and a moment later, Corbin licked along my seam and sucked the swollen, sopping flesh.

  “Stop,” I tried to say, but speech was impossible. I choked, shuddered. He moved his hips back, and I spit his cock out as soon as I could. “I want a shower.”

  He barely raised his head from between my legs. “We settled this already.” It wasn’t a question or an invitation to discussion, and he made his point by thrusting his cock home, stifling any verbal protests.

  I couldn’t quite process all the sensations that were coming at me. The shifting logs made me feel insecure, like I might fall. Corbin, stuffed in my mouth and down my throat, his balls tickling my nose as he drove into me, was enough to overwhelm my senses.

  And then there was the matter of what he was doing to my pussy. He would suck everything into his mouth, then harden his tongue and force it inside me, drag it back up, lave my clit, suck it into his mouth, take it gently between his teeth… take as much of my sex between his teeth as he could while his tongue played over my clit, whipping me into an overstimulated frenzy.

  The only problem was that when I got excited, I stopped paying attention to my breathing, my sucking. I gagged, hard, my hips and knees squeezing in as I tried to curl up.

  Corbin gave me space to collect myself, then reclaimed his position. His free hand—the one that wasn’t monitoring me—roamed under my shirt, pried under the tight sports bra and circled my nipple. He pinched it as he licked my clit.

  He lifted his head and kissed my quivering inner thigh. “I’m going to come soon, and I want you to get off with me. I want to feel all that enthusiasm as you suck my dick, baby.” He tweaked my nipple, making me gasp, then left it alone. His hand stroked down my stomach, then his fingers were pressing inside me. Three of them this time, almost as wide around as his cock but not nearly as comfortable.

  And I loved it.

  I felt that he was about to come. It was obvious from the tensing of his muscles, the ragged, frenzied thrusts and the indelicate slapping of his tightening balls against my nose and forehead.

  The way he fucked me could have been humiliating. I could have felt used, and that would have been hot. Somewhere along the way, I’d started to think of his physical manipulation of my body as a conduit to pleasure. Most likely because whatever he did, no matter how much he hurt me—or made me beg or plead or suck his fingers while he stared impassively—and no matter how long he forced me to wait, it always ended like this…

  White spots dotted my vision. Corbin worked my clit, swirled his tongue around it while his fi
ngers jackhammered loudly and wetly into my tight hole. I moaned as the jerking, erratic clenching of all my muscles shook my body.

  I wasn’t able to keep sucking him the way he wanted, but he moved in deep, his cock swelled and rippled in my mouth, and I felt rather than tasted his release. I heard him grunting, too, but he didn’t stop licking me. I swallowed automatically, swallowed again.

  My choked whimper didn’t make an impression on him. He released my hand, apparently not worried that his spent cock would accidentally choke me, and took his other hand from my slick pussy. He pulled my pants and long underwear down to my ankles, pressed my legs open wide so that I was butterflied, the sides of my knees grazing the rough wood.

  His cock was still leaking saltiness into my mouth, and I swallowed it. Soft, he was much more manageable, and certainly more malleable. I cradled him in my mouth, amazed that his enormous, hard cock could turn into something so soft and silky.

  And then he swept his tongue over my clit again. I jerked, tried to pull away, but I was helpless and vulnerable under him.

  He gripped my knees tighter, an order to behave. Like I had any choice. He was too large, too strong.

  “Love the way you smell.” He licked a trail to my lower belly, then back to my pussy, and, humiliating for me, even lower, tickling my ass. I felt my face burn with shame. He caught part of my swollen sex between his teeth, nibbled, then his tongue swept deeper, licking me, tasting me. Building another orgasm while teaching me that my embarrassment didn’t alter his preferences.

  He’d done it before—gotten me off several times in a row—and I’d been shocked. This time, I knew it was possible, but it still caught me off-guard. I arched my back, the only part of me not pinned down by his hands or his hips, and moaned.

  Like before, everything went spotted, but this time it all went white. It was like an out-of-body experience. Like I’d been pulled into another dimension, then slammed back into my body.

  And heaven help me, his cock was growing in my mouth, which only served to excite me more. He really did love this. And even if he didn’t love me, he loved sex with me. It was more than I deserved, and more than I ever would have dared hope for.

  I came again, shuddering, moaning, my hands digging into his shirt, trying to grab onto the rock-hard body underneath.