Badd Kitty

by Jasinda Wilder

  I stared up at him, my hands lifting to wrap around the outside of his. He let go, let me take him in my hands, his fingers sliding into my hair, tangling, knotting.

  I licked my lips, tasting him, blinking up at him.

  “Open for me, baby.” A command, but a soft one.

  I parted my lips, keeping my eyes on his. I felt him at my mouth, felt the veiny flesh sliding along my lips. I gasped at the intrusion of him into my mouth, the gasp suddenly muffled as he filled my mouth. I whimpered, a sound of amazement, or protest, I wasn’t sure which. Both. My eyes flew wide, his flesh was all I could taste, my lips stretched around him, jaw cracking to take all of him. I had both hands around him, one at the very base and the other just above, and all I could take of him was a few inches—just the very head and a little bit past the rim.

  I don’t know what I expected, honestly. For him to start driving, hard and fast. Or for him to expect me to know what to do, what he wanted. All I knew to do was flick my tongue against him, tasting him, circling, lapping at the tangy, smoky salt of the essence leaking from him, hands pulsing on his shaft. He groaned, eyes watching as he filled my mouth, stretching me open.

  “So fucking hot, seeing your mouth wrapped around me,” he groaned. “So—fucking—hot.”

  And then he pulled away from me, oxygen flowing into my mouth, tension released from my jaw, lips tingling, his flavor burning on my tongue. What now? Would he push back in? Would his essence fill my mouth? Would he come?

  I should have known better.

  He wrapped his hands around my butt and lifted me, settling me on his waist, his shaft nudging against my core. He walked with me into the saloon, set me on the couch, bent over me, leaning against me. He covered me with his bulk, his broad body blocking out the light, the stars, the saloon, everything. He braced one hand on the couch cushion beside my head, and the other cupped my cheek, tilting my face to his.

  Yes, yes, please yes—kiss me.

  God, kiss me.

  I was already breathless, and now I had to suck in a breath at the slash of his lips against mine, the first of a questing series of kisses, some just lips, some with a swipe of his tongue. Each kiss left me needing the next one more and more, until I was wild with desperation for him to kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. He gave me his mouth, and his hand slid down to caress my breast, kneading it as he dove his tongue into my mouth, demanding that we take the kiss deeper. And deeper it went, no longer did we break for breath or to realign our mouths, we only kissed, lips locked, tongues tangling. My spine arched to press my breasts into his hand, and I felt his shaft angling against my thigh, heavy and hot and hard and thick, and I reached between us to grasp it, needing to feel him in my hand again, loving the stroke of my palm and fingers around his throbbing manhood.

  Finally, the kiss broke as we gasped for breath, his heart hammering against my ribs.

  “You’re so huge,” I whispered, stroking him. “This—” I squeezed. “I love this.”

  He laughed. “It loves you. The way you touch me is—god, it’s more than perfect. Keep touching me.” His teeth seized my lip, tugged playfully. “Tell me you love my cock, Kitty.”

  “I can’t say that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t use language like that. I don’t like being crude.”

  He pinched my nipple until I squeaked. “Say it.” We both watched my hand caressing his massive erection; when I hesitated again, he pinched my nipple even harder, enough to make it hurt in a way that sent a pang of something hot slicing to my core. “Say it, Kitty.”

  “Need me to stroke your ego as well as this?” I asked.

  “No, I just want to hear your pretty, sweet little mouth say dirty things to me.” He threaded his fingers between our bodies, past my hand as it moved on him, to my core, circling my clitoris until I was gasping, and then he stopped. “Say it, Kitty.”

  “I love your cock, Roman,” I whispered. Saying it sent a surge of thrill through me, a frisson of excitement. Simple, possibly stupid, but it coursed through me, and I shivered. Stared into his eyes, stroking him faster. “Roman, I love your big, hard cock.”

  He narrowed his eyes, jaw grinding. “What else, Kitty?”

  I twisted my head; glancing up to see my purse where I’d left it at the beginning of the evening. I reached up with my free hand and dragged it over to me. He watched me, curious, as I used one hand to keep caressing his cock, and with the other worked open the button flap of my clutch purse. I found the strip of condoms Juneau had put in there, tossed the purse aside onto the floor. Set one crinkly square in my teeth, tore it free, and tossed the rest onto the nearby glass coffee table.

  I ripped the wrapper open with teeth and fingers, withdrew the latex ring, and spit the wrapper out; Roman plucked it off my chest and set it on the coffee table.

  “You came prepared,” he remarked, looking a little shocked.

  I kept caressing him. “Roman, I want you.” I writhed my hips against him, daring rifling through me, making me say things I’ve never said, would never have even dreamed of saying. “I want your cock inside me. Right now.”

  “Fuck, Kitty,” he moaned, the two words drawn out into a tortured sound.

  I smirked up at him. “Yes, please.”

  He laughed, but sobered quickly. “Put it on me, then.”

  He watched, and so did I, as I fit the ring to his tip and rolled it down his length, hand over hand, each brush of my hands down his cock making him shudder and twitch.

  He lined himself up against my slit, gazing down at me. “Are you ready, Kitty?”

  I grasped him by the base, whimpering as I slid him between the taut lips of my core. “No,” I whispered.

  “Too bad.”

  He groaned between gritted teeth as he pushed in, slowly—agonizingly slowly.

  Tears started in my eyes at the burning, tingling ache of him stretching me. “Oh—oh god, Roman—”

  He bent, suckling my nipple until I whimpered. “Can you take it, Kitty?”

  I had barely more than the tip of him inside me, and it was almost too much. I shook my head. “I—I need a second.”

  “How about this?” He reached between us, his finger finding my sensitive center. “Does that help?”

  I whimpered at his touch, arousal sizzling through me in renewed intensity. He held absolutely still, except for his finger swiping at me, circling. I felt myself responding, needing more, needing him.

  “Suck on my tits, Roman,” I breathed.

  “I love it when you tell me what you want.” He bent to obey me, his lips moving against my breasts. “Keep talking dirty to me, Kitty.”

  I caught my breath with a sharp gasp as he sawed his teeth against my nipple, and then flicked it with his tongue, soothing where he’d bitten. With his one hand, he palmed and caressed my other breast, and now the stimulation of his hands and his mouth on both nipples and his finger against my clit, I began to ache, a heavy throb starting low in my belly.

  I felt myself growing slick around him, and somehow he didn’t feel so painfully too big. I flexed my hips to take more of him, but he retained control, pulling away from me.

  “I’ll give it to you when you’re ready,” he murmured. “You just focus on feeling good.”

  I gave my hands free rein, letting them move over his strong back and down to his flexed buttocks, clutching at his powerful arms. One hand between us, I cupped his balls, feeling their heft and soft weight in my palm, a gasp squeaking out of me as he touched my clit in a way that left my lungs spasming and a climax seconds from slamming through me. The closer I got to orgasm, the more I needed him, the more I needed more of him—all of him.

  It didn’t hurt anymore—the stretch felt amazing, the ache of his huge cock inside me felt perfect.

  And then, with a hard suckle around one nipple and a sudden pinch of the other, I felt my climax breaking through me, a swelling, crackling of pressure and heat that stole my breath and pushed me to gasping, sh
rieking, clawing at his ass.

  In the moment of my climax, he pushed into me, and with the climax still shearing through me, the massive weight of his body against me and the spearing stretch of his cock sliding all the way into me, I was sent tumbling into another orgasm, this one harder than the last. His cock stroked into me, withdrew slowly, and that withdrawal dragged his thick shaft stuttering against me—the next stroke in made me scream. The head of him scraped inside me, the slight curve angling him so he drilled against that spot inside me that left me gibbering and frantic with agonizing ecstasy too intense to even comprehend.

  All semblance of restraint left me, then.

  I writhed against him, gasping, whimpering. Clawed at his butt, clutching him harder against me. Thrusting, questing, needing him to move, to move. More of him, all of him, harder, faster—more.

  “Roman—” I gasped.

  He slid slowly into my stretched and trembling channel, unhurried and lazy. “What do you need, Kitty?”

  I clawed at his buttocks, writhing my hips. “More.”

  He rumbled a laugh, resisting my efforts to make him go faster. “What, this isn’t enough for you?”

  “No,” I groaned, the admission torn from me. “I don’t know what I want, I just want more.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and rolled, bringing me on top. I groaned breathlessly at the depth of his penetration, like this; I tucked my shins under my thighs and pushed up, bracing my hands on his chest. He gripped my hips and pulled me down as he thrust into me—if I’d been under the impression being on top would give me control, I was wrong.

  Did I even want control?

  I didn’t, I realized.

  I wanted…

  His control.

  His arrogant way of just taking me, giving me what I wanted even when I didn’t know what I wanted.

  I rested my head on his chest and pulled forward, drawing him out of me, and then slowly sank back down, impaling myself on him. He let me do this for several long minutes, and each time I adjusted the angle of my hips to find where it felt best, where he hit me just right with each thrust in.

  “How’s that, Kitten?” he asked, crooning in my ear. “Is that enough for you?”

  “No,” I cried, a helpless whimper. “No. I need more of you.”

  Without warning, he gripped my butt cheeks in each of his huge hands, pulled them apart as he lifted me up, clutching me in a tight, unforgiving grip, my body a prisoner to his desires. He slammed me down onto him, my ass slapping against his thighs, his cock driving into me with an abrupt, racking force. I screamed in surprise, and then my lungs seized and my next scream caught in my throat as he did it again, using his grip on my buttocks to jerk me down while meeting me with a driving upward thrust.

  Lightning crackled inside me, searing through my core with each thrust. Harder, then, until my boobs ached from the way they bounced forcefully up and down with his thrusts—I sank into his grip, into his control, cupping my breasts to keep them from slapping painfully as he moved into me harder and harder, trusting him to hold me in place, to guide me.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he growled. “So fucking perfect, Kitty. Fucking incredible.”

  I snapped my eyes open to meet his, and my heart cracked and swelled in my chest at the raw, open vulnerability in his gaze, in the unashamed emotion in his eyes—he was overwhelmed, awed, worshipful of me, unable to contain the way our union made him feel.

  I held his gaze as I rode him to my third climax— or was it my fourth? Fifth? I’d lost count. He drove it out of me, guided me to it, each thrust driving me closer and closer, his cock hitting me where it made me lose all control, dragging against my throbbing clit on the way out and the way in. I writhed, thrashed on him, riding him with my hands on my breasts, our eyes locked, until I came with a ragged cry.

  “Is that enough for you, Kitty?” he asked.

  I shook my head, letting go of my breasts as I fell forward to brace on his chest, still writhing, drawing him out and sinking onto him. “I don’t want it to ever stop,” I breathed. “Don’t stop. Give me more, Roman. Give me everything—everything.”

  He sat up, taking me with him. Lifted me away, set me on the couch. “I need you in a bed for what I want next.”

  I stared down at his massive, latex-sheathed cock, the rubber slippery and dripping with my desire. “You still haven’t come?”

  “You’ll know when I do, Kitten, trust me on that,” he murmured. “Now, the bedroom.” He stood up, gesturing at a doorway I’d not even really noticed.

  I bit my lip at the primal intensity of the man as he stood over me, naked, his condom-wrapped cock swaying in front of me, the room smelling of our sex, my core and thighs trembling with the aftershocks of repeated orgasms. I slid my legs out from under me and got to my feet, swaying, my legs wanting to give out.

  He grinned as he caught me, scooped me up in his arms. “I’ll carry you.”

  “Good, because I don’t think I can walk.”

  He covered my mouth with his in a slantwise kiss. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

  “Oh god,” I whimpered. I gazed up at him. “Please don’t ever be done with me. I need so much more of you.”

  “You kill me when you say shit like that,” he growled. “Makes my chest ache and my head spin.”

  “That’s called emotion,” I told him, palming his stubbly cheek.

  He kicked open the door, twisted to slide through it with me in his arms, kicked it close behind us. The room was small, big enough to hold the mammoth California King bed and nothing else, which was covered in a smooth white duvet, with plumped-up pillows and a sprinkle of rose petals across the foot end of the bed.

  He stood at the foot, still holding me in his tireless arms. His eyes burned into mine. “You make me want things I didn’t know I could ever want,” he said, his voice pitched so low I could barely hear him.

  “Like what?”

  “To make you mine.”

  I rubbed my thumb over his cheekbone, and then his lips. “That’s exactly what you’re doing, Roman.”

  He set me on the bed on my back, his eyes blazing; he knelt over me, cock ramrod stiff against his belly. “I need you, Kitty. Need to feel you again. I need—”

  For once, he seemed at a loss for words. “What, Roman? What do you need?” My turn to draw the admission out of him.

  “Just…you. Until we’re both so far gone neither of us can move.”

  I slid my thighs apart, cupping my breasts to present them to him—another quaking aftershock rippled through me, serving only to make me want another one, want more of what he could give me in the way only he could give it.

  Instead of taking my offering, he gripped me by the hips and pulled me toward him, until my butt slid up the slope of his pressed-together knees.

  I expected him, then, to slide into me, to take me like that. I trembled with the anticipation of it, core clenching with the need to feel him inside me again.

  Instead, he reached down, cupped me by the back of the neck, and lifted me up so I was sitting on his thighs. “Know what I want right now, Kitty?”

  12

  Roman

  * * *

  She gazed up at me with those wide brown eyes full of heat and wonder and need. “What, Roman?”

  I should gentle it, go slow, make it last, make it…romantic, or something. But I couldn’t. I’d been holding back for so long it hurt; so long my balls ached with the need to release. I just couldn’t hang on any longer. I needed her, and I was going to take her—it wouldn’t be soft, and it wouldn’t be gentle. It wouldn’t be for her.

  Her eyes widened further at what I assumed was a feral glare of my raw, threatening lust. “Roman?”

  I tried to be gentle, I really did. But my restraint was shot—just gone. She’d eradicated every last shred of self-control I had, and now all I could do was just take her.

  I tossed her onto her belly on the bed, and she crawled away from me toward
the headboard and the pillows; crawling away, but not to escape. Her eyes were fiery, demanding, eager.

  “You like that?” I growled. “You like being tossed around?”

  She whimpered, not quite an affirmative but as much of one as she was capable of, it seemed. I grabbed her ankle and dragged her back to me, making her whine in her throat and stare at me over her shoulder. I snagged her by the hips and yanked her beautiful round ass in the air, caressing it as it was presented to me. I groaned at the beauty of it, the glorious perfection of her curves—the spread of her hips and flare of her ass, the tight slit of her pussy peeking out between her thighs, her narrow waist and heavy breasts hanging and swaying as she knelt in front of me.

  “So fuckin’ perfect,” I murmured, giving her ass a not entirely gentle smack.

  She squeaked at the little slap. “Roman!”

  “Think I could have that ass of yours all spread out for me like this and not spank it? Think again, princess.” I smacked the other cheek as I nestled my hips against her. “And that’s just the beginning of what I’m gonna do to you now.”

  She moaned. “Oh…oh god, oh god.”

  I spanked her again. “Can you tell me you don’t like that, Kitty?”

  She shook her head, writhing away from me even as her eyes darted to find mine over her shoulder telling me to do it again.

  “Can you?” I demanded, needing her voice.

  “No!” she cried. “No…I like it, okay? You want to hear me say it?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I like it, Roman. I like everything you do. I like it when you’re rough. I like it when you toss me around.”

  I palmed both cheeks, caressing them, kneeling behind her and nestling my cock between them. “You like it when I’m rough?”

  “Yes—yes, god…yes, Roman, I do. Okay? I like it when you’re rough. So you wanna be rough? Go ahead!” She writhed, reaching a hand between her thighs. “Give me all you’ve got, Roman. Give me you, all of you, any way you want to give it to me.”

  “Kitty—fuck.” I gripped my cock and angled it to nudge against her slit. “This is what I need.”