One of the biggest lessons he'd ever learned in this life was when to keep his mouth shut, or otherwise occupied, as in this case, which he did immediately, returning to a much more pleasant pursuit.
She was going to die. She knew it now. Tonight wasn't the night she slept with her enemy, it was the night he killed her with his mouth, leaving no trace but the wet spot on the bed beneath her bottom!
She'd totally lost herself in what he was doing to her, but not quite enough that she didn't feel somewhat horrified and embarrassed by just how mindlessly she was responding to him. If he continued lapping and suckling at her eagerly like that for only another minute or so, she was going to cum, loudly and uncontrollably, like she always did, only a million times harder!
And he'd barely even kissed her!
But, as if he'd read what little mind he'd left her with already, he gave her a few lingering, loving kisses, let her arms go and gave her pussy a bit of a light pat, then stood, holding a big paw out to her.
As if she could actually stand!
"Trent, I don't think I can."
Seconds later, she was on her feet, well, sort of, mostly, by leaning on him.
"You, my gorgeous one, are wearing entirely too many clothes," he murmured.
Damn his soothing, but at the same time, hopelessly sexy voice!
She colored in a manner she knew to be horribly ugly.
But that he found enchantingly pretty, and he told her so.
Even though she couldn't hear any snark in his tone whatsoever, she couldn't keep herself from saying, almost automatically, "Stop that. I know I'm far from gorgeous. You're the gor…"
The hand that rested at the small of her back, that had been gently supporting her, firmed up its position there, finding and easily trapping her hands. Distracting her a bit as he brought his other hand down sharply on her bottom, leaving three deep red, enormous, hand-shaped marks that overlapped on each of her cheeks, and bringing her terribly close to tears with just that small effort.
"No. Any time I hear you say anything negative about yourself, I will punish you, even if we're in company, I'll find a way to do it. I believe transgressions should be dealt with swiftly, as close to when they were committed as possible."
"I remember," Stevie whined ruefully.
Although he wasn't one to want to encourage whining, he had to grin at her put-upon tone.
"Let my hands go, huh?" she demanded without thinking, trying to tug free herself from his surprisingly firm grip. "I want to rub my butt."
"Yeah, no."
"Oxymoronic much?"
He smiled, and she caught her breath at the unexpected beauty of it, hoping he hadn't heard her do it. "Okay, then, just plain old 'no'."
Stevie tsked. "You can't undress me if you're holding onto my hands."
He raised his eyebrows at her, letting her wrists go. "I wasn't saying no to releasing you, I was saying no to you rubbing your behind, move your hands away this instant."
Unfortunately, she followed his run-on sentence and, although they were almost there, she managed to divert them, although she had no idea where she should put them when they literally itched to alleviate some of the unrelenting sting, so much so that she literally stamped her foot in frustration as if she was a rebellious three year old.
Luckily, he seemed to find that charming rather than annoying, and Stevie still couldn't think well enough to decide whether that was really a good thing or a bad thing.
He set about undressing her, which provided some distraction, at least until she was naked in front of him. Then him standing there, staring down at her, from his great height, in rapt attention just made her feel nervous and vaguely embarrassed.
Trent could see that he was making her uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite believe that she was here, naked, in his room. He reached out to intercept her hands on their way to strategic modesty points on her body almost absently, because his mind was still whirring away, trying to deal with the realization that she actually was there, that this wasn't one of the innumerable fantasies he'd had of her over the years.
As he collected her wrists at the small of her back again, this time for a different reason, he took a step towards her. At the same time, putting the tip of his index finger into the tiny divot beneath her chin to raise it up just slightly, he bent down to kiss her with every bit of delicacy he could summon, forcing himself to behave instead of ravishing her from head to toe, right then and there.
He liked to challenge himself, but he wasn't at all sure how long he could hold out, and he didn't want to scare her. He had no doubt at all that she was a natural submissive – the spankings he had given her had pretty much sealed that opinion of her – but they were new and there was a lot riding on this, and there was so much old baggage to overcome; he couldn't blow this.
He just...couldn't.
Trent wanted all of her, not just tonight, so he felt he needed to walk a bit more of a line than he might have if he'd been able to get the company into the black more easily than he had, without her father hanging around screwing things up, countermanding his orders, and had been able to actually court her, before she'd had so long to discover so many reasons why she hated him.
When he released her hands this time, mid-kiss, he guided them up to his neck, bending his knees a bit to lift her against him, then turning to lay her on the bed beneath him, carefully using his body to open her legs to him as he did so.
"Are you going to wear your clothes while you fuck me?" she asked.
He couldn't hear any censure in her question, but he wasn't necessarily very good at picking things like that up, so he wasn't positive. His response, though, was firmly into Dom territory as he avidly watched for her reaction, if any.
"I'll wear what I want, but you, my beauty, will always be naked."
At that, Stevie gave a definite shudder and an audible moan.
Trent felt as if he'd hit the jackpot, and he knew he didn't have much longer because of it.
She was just too fucking perfect for him.
He reached down between them to unbutton his fly and pull his zipper down, all the while deliberately dragging his knuckles against her folds, allowing them to part her teasingly sometimes to tickle her clit, but mostly remaining admirably on task.
For now.
The sounds she was making as he did so, however, were no help to his flagging self control.
"Trent, please, please!" Stevie couldn't believe what she'd been so easily reduced to – begging him, just like she'd so haughtily told him she wouldn't earlier that evening, her fingers fisting his shirt, trying to bring him closer to her, although it was like trying to move one of the rocks at Stonehenge.
With his swollen cock finally free of its confinement and eagerly seeking her warmth as if it had a mind of its own, he felt he needed to clamp down a bit on the both of them.
"Hands at your sides," he commanded, amazed he was able to keep his tone as even and steady as it sounded, to him, anyway.
Stevie whimpered a bit at the imposition of his will, but he was resolute and raised his eyebrow at her when she paused, as if to let her know something he hoped she already realized about him – that he wouldn't hesitate to roll her over and blister her behind some more if she naughtily disobeyed him.
He wasn't sure which one of them was more relieved when she decided to acquiesce, if somewhat loudly, huffing and puffing and raising her hips to him instead, as if he needed any further enticement from her.
When he leaned forward, Trent trapped her arms neatly at her sides by positioning his own very carefully so that she couldn't move. This made her unhappy, but there was little she could do about it.
"Put your legs around my waist, baby girl."
Why she felt the need to hesitate, when what he was asking her to do was exactly what she wanted to do, she would never be able to discern, except that it would open her even further to him, display the deepest recesses of herself to him. And with her arms pinned as they we
re, she would be rendered almost completely helpless against anything he might decide to do to her.
"Stevie."
That slightly impatient, wholly warning tone... She shivered and did as she was told, and in the act found her quim fitted tightly against the underside of his cock, where it lay within her folds.
"Good girl. But you won't find me so patient in future, I'm afraid."
He began to move, very slowly, dragging his cock from where it most wanted to be seated, and where it was bathed in her honey, up to her clit and back down again, teasing the both of them terribly.
Trent thought that seeing her trying to writhe like that, her head thrashing back and forth, deep, anguished moans coming from low in her throat every time the head of his cock caressed her clit was going to set him off, but he managed to hold back.
Barely.
He wanted her beside herself with need of him, and, luckily, he didn't have long to wait.
She began to beg him prettily, not knowing that doing so wouldn't do a thing to change the timetable he had in his head for what would happen between them, but he loved the sound of it so he wasn't about to disabuse her of the notion that it would help her cause.
"Trent, please, n-no more teasing. Please, let me cum, please, please, please!"
Not until he judged that her climax was imminent did he halt the tormenting caresses and finally thrust himself inside her all at once.
The act of being taken almost violently, being forced to stretch around him, while her clit throbbed and ached and received just enough stimulation from his vigorous plunging to pretty much tease her into her climax, only served to make her orgasm just that much more intense, and to drag it out almost interminably.
She clenched around him that first time so hard she stopped him mid-stroke for a second, but the successive spasms were less violent, although still quite vigorous, and very wonderfully slow to fade in satisfaction.
Stevie had never felt anything like it. Her orgasms usually fell off pretty quickly in intensity. Oh, she could have more, but they were relatively short, individual events. This one seemed to go on forever. Not that she was complaining, her excitement even growing as he continued to fuck her, his face a rictus of what looked like pure pain rather than heart-stopping pleasure.
As he cried out at his own culmination, she was very close to doing the same for her second round, even though she was nearly exhausted from the first.
Trent couldn't help but collapse down on top of her. He couldn't have managed to hold his arms straight enough to keep his weight off her if his life had depended on it. He considered burdening her with his not-inconsiderable weight to be highly ungentlemanly, especially considering how much bigger than her he was, but he knew he had to take at least a moment to recover. His muscles were shaking, his mind was scattered. He was more completely undone than he'd ever been with any woman in his life.
He'd known it would be like this for him. He only hoped he could bring her to something that came anywhere near resembling what he'd experienced.
She was moving quite restlessly beneath him, and he knew why, which was another very compelling reason to gather his strength as quickly as possible, to see to her.
She was the most important part of this equation to him, more than Elliott's approval, more, even, than Elliott's company. She always had been, and she always would be, and he intended to make sure she was totally, completely and utterly satisfied.
So, instead of trying to lift himself off her, he began to move down her body, dragging his largely still-clothed self over her most tender bits, which were exposed because her legs were still splayed around him, and became even more so when those broad shoulders took up residence between them. And then, his hands came down to press her thighs even further back and apart.
Stevie felt her hips lifted off the mattress and knew she was being forced to display those parts of her that were most female to him in a completely obscene manner, and the thought only made her just that much hotter, made her lower body clench entirely on its own.
His mouth poised over her still proudly swollen and straining bud, two fingers tracing her entrance first, then pressed slowly into her, he groaned over her sharply caught breath and whimpers. "I remember every prom dress, every evening gown I've ever seen you in, but you have never looked more beautiful to me than you do right now, when I'm just about to devour you."
With that, his mouth and tongue closed over the part of her that had become even more exposed by the way his fingers were stretching her open, plowing into her, as rough and demanding as his mouth was tender and coaxing.
The contrast was…
Terminal.
Stevie had never actually felt her mind go before, but she did now. It ran away from her, just as she began screaming at the incredible, almost soul-wrenching pleasure he brought her.
And it was ceaseless.
She hadn't really come down from the first set of heights he'd driven her to, and here he was rushing her past that and into the center of the sun. And keeping her there, never allowing her to descend from the peak, greedily wringing every last mewl and moan from her until there were no more that she was physically capable of – until she collapsed back onto the bed.
Only then, did he remove fingers that had become pruney as they were bathed in her copious moisture. Leaving that still trembling button with a last, long, slow swipe of his tongue, smiling evilly at the way she jerked as he did so, he climbed up the bed to turn her onto her side and wrap himself around her from behind.
"Trent," she barely whispered, no longer in possession of the energy necessary to speak any louder than that.
But he was nothing if not attentive to her every need. "Yes, darling?"
"I-I-I…" She couldn't seem to force her mind past that, but she had to.
He stroked her hair back from her damp forehead. "Shh. You don't need to say anything."
Stevie forced herself to get it out, no matter how embarrassing it was – and it was.
"I have to pee so badly, but I don't think I can stand to get there!"
Seconds later, he transported her to the commode in his enormous bathroom, even to the point of positioning her on it, then – to her complete mortification, no matter how urgently she whispered that he should go – he remained next to her, just in case.
If she fell off the toilet, she was just going to end it, Stevie thought. She'd die of the mortification of it, anyway.
It took her a little longer to go because of bladder shyness. But in the end, she had no choice and was even further humiliated when he insisted on taking care of everything for her, looking after her as if she was a child, then carrying her back to bed and back into the warm cocoon of his body totally surrounding hers.
It was like being swaddled in him.
"Sleep, baby."
It was one of the few times she'd obeyed him without question, because she was already asleep by the time he'd commanded it.
Stevie was in the kitchen the next morning, leaning up against the counter as if it was her lifeline, wearing a t-shirt of his that might well have passed for a dress on her. It hung almost to her knees, and she looked a total mess, she knew, although he didn't seem to see it. Her hair looked like something a bad punk rocker would covet, her makeup was around her knees, and every inch of her skin smelled like sex.
And despite all that, despite the fact that he'd kept her up most of the night in the thralls of devastating orgasms he seemed to be able to bring her to at the drop of a hat, he appeared to be physically incapable of keeping his hands to himself as he made them breakfast. Homemade waffles with butter and warmed, real maple syrup, sausage patties, and a quickly thrown together fruit compote because he said he wanted her to eat something healthy.
Neither of them was prepared for the knock on his door, or the fact that, before they could do anything, it opened.
And there, standing before the two of them, wearing a startled expression at first that melted into a smile of epi
c proportions, was her father.
Just who Stevie most wanted to see after sleeping with the man her father knew she supposedly hated more than death and taxes.
Chapter 4
"Dad, what the fu…" She glanced at Trent then wished she hadn't had the impulse to. "What the heck are you doing here? Don't you let anyone answer their own door?"
She tried to skitter away to the bedroom but she had to get by the big man first, and that wasn't going to happen. Trent caught her arm in a way that let her know he wasn't going to let her go without a fight that he wouldn't hesitate to have in front of her father, although he, also, somehow, managed to make it look as if he was lovingly pulling her to him.
Elliott Coolidge was quite obviously beside himself at the sight of the two of them. He was positively gleeful, almost jumping up and down with it. He clapped hands together, chuckling the entire time.
"Oh, my dears, I'm so sorry for the intrusion, but please let me say how happy I am for you two! I had given up hope that you might come 'round, Stevie, but now...you look so happy. So radiant."
Still trying to escape Trent's depressingly strong arms, Stevie barely stifled the impulse to comment rudely that her father was mistaking a well-fucked glow for one of love.
In order to contain her more easily, so that Elliott wouldn't notice how desperately she was trying to get away from him, and so she wouldn't be able to keep trying to desperately get away from him, he moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to the side of her jaw in what appeared to be a loving manner.
But in reality, he whispered, well out of the older man's hearing, "Behave, or I'll get my belt."
Trent felt Stevie stiffen in his arms, and he knew she was pissed that he'd threatened her that way, but he never made empty threats and he knew was well aware of that fact. He thought it had probably fallen onto the floor at some point last night, but he was quite sure he knew where to lay his hands to it, and he wouldn't hesitate to do so if she caused a scene in front of her father just to be spiteful.
Never Say Never Page 4