Debauched (Undone Book 3)

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Debauched (Undone Book 3) Page 23

by Jennifer Dawson

I do, and he clasps my hips and pulls me down. My dress stretches, bunches high on my thighs as I straddle him. He brushes his mouth over mine. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  I slide against him, and his erection nestles against me and I finally feel like I’m home. Exactly where I am supposed to be. Where I belong. “I mean it. I want you to see. To work for it.” I furrow my brow. “Does that make sense? I’m not sure where the idea comes from but it’s been there for a while.”

  “That’s how you’re wired.” He pulls me down and surges up to meet me halfway. “You want to please me.”

  “I do.” My breath kicks up and I put my hands on his shoulders. “So tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

  His expression clouds, his brow knitting and I realize he’s nervous. Scared I’ll reject what he wants.

  I kiss him, melding my mouth over his, and just before it turns hot and demanding I pull away. “Please tell me.”

  He nods. “All right, I’ve never been much of a rules guy, just choosing to wing it as I go along. Rules shouldn’t be about the rules themselves, but should add value to the relationship and have meaning, and I think we’re still figuring that out. But this is where I want to start.”

  “You have my undivided attention.”

  “No orgasms unless I say so.”

  I have no idea why this thrills me, but it does. It’s been on my mind since the moment Layla brought it up. I grin. “Okay.”

  He narrows his eyes. “I know you want it.”

  “I do.” I’m done pretending I don’t.

  “I want final decision on your outfits whenever we go out, you can give me choices to pick from.”

  I pretend to think it over. “That sounds reasonable.”

  His expression turns cautious. He clears his throat. “There’s something I’ve been wanting but I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

  I trail a path over his jaw. “Try me.”

  He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “I want you to move in with me.”

  Surprise has my spine straightening. “You do?”

  “I do.” He meets my gaze. “I like you in my house. You feel like you belong there and I have hated sleeping without you.”

  I can see in his face he’s waiting for me to reject the idea. I kiss him, soft on the lips. “I feel like you’re getting the short end of the deal here.”

  “I get you. That’s all I want.”

  “I’ll move in with you.”

  “Thank you. We have a lot to talk about.”

  “We do.”

  He squeezes my ass. “But all I really want is to take you home and fuck you in the ass.”

  “Deal.” I give no thought to protest. I’ve wanted it, craved it for so long it feels like a need. “I’m ready. And I’m yours.”

  “You are.” He kisses me, long and deep before pulling me back. “First, I have to take you on this couch. It’s a tradition and we’re the only couple that hasn’t taken advantage of it.”

  I laugh. “Tradition?”

  “The arm is just begging to have your body draped over it.” He juts his chin at the end of the rich, leather couch. “I’m going to take you, dig my fingers into your hips as I claim you, and then I’m going to make you scream.”

  I groan and sink into him, “Yes, please.”

  The desperate, knife-edge of our lust had been satiated back at Brandon’s, and now I’m standing at the edge of Chad’s massive bed, trying to figure out if I’m more excited or nervous. I’ve learned since being with him that they are not mutually exclusive, but I’m not sure which is winning at the moment.

  Chad puts his hands on my shoulders and kisses my temple. “Nervous?”

  “Yes.” I suck in a breath. I’d lost my panties somewhere along the way, as I’m prone to with Chad around, and I can feel the fullness between my legs, my slippery thighs, still wet from where he’d come inside me a couple hours ago. We’d stayed for a bit, long enough to appease our friends, to tease out the anticipation of the night to come.

  He skims his hands down my bare arm, and goose bumps break across my skin in his wake. “This is when you start to learn about what submission is. How it’s going to look for you.”

  “How?” I know I want this—what we’ve been playing at all along—but now I don’t know what it means since it’s not hidden away, an off-topic subject we don’t discuss.

  His palms slide over the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips, before reaching the skin on my thighs. “This is about surrender. Your surrender to me. Giving me what I want, even if you don’t like it.”

  He works his fingers under my dress and dips between my slippery folds. “How your cunt will betray you, because it answers to me, and what I want, not you.”

  My heart skips a beat and I sink against him as that throbbing need takes over, pounding through me.

  He thrusts his fingers inside as his thumb sweeps over my clit. “You like the sound of that, don’t you? Your pussy desperate to fulfill my every desire. No matter how twisted.”

  My breath speeds up—I came so hard over Brandon’s couch I feared I’d never come again—but as always, I’m wrong. Chad knows exactly what to say to me, how to work me until I’m crazy. Unthinking. Nothing but a mess of need and desire and soul-sucking, demanding lust.

  He pulls out and slaps me full over my swollen flesh. “Answer me.”

  And God, forgive me, it makes me that much hotter. “Yes.”

  He roughly grinds the heel of his palm over my pelvic bone, creating a sensation that makes me jolt and bow up to deepen the contact.

  “I’ve never been sadistic.” He laughs. Wicked and knowing. “But, Christ, if you don’t bring that out in me. There’s something about all this pale skin, that needy gasp, and the way you beg for more that makes me want to mark you. Make you feel me on every single inch of your skin the next day.”

  “Chad.” It’s my turn to lose my ability to speak. I reach up, twine my fingers through his hair. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  I’m on the very edge of coming, but somehow he’s managing to stave off tipping over. My mind empties and I surrender to the storm he’s creating inside me and let it carry me away. Peaceful somehow in its very chaos. “I…please.” The words are a pant.

  “What do you want?” His voice is gruff, low and deep, filled with all that dominance he’s been repressing for my benefit all this time.

  “Everything.”

  He stops.

  I want to curse him, but press my lips together. Even before tonight I knew that was a bad idea.

  He takes off my dress in one swoop, then presses his palm in the small of my back until I lean forward.

  “Spread your legs.”

  I do without hesitation.

  He strikes me, full on the ass, hard enough my vision blurs but I feel it, the gush of heat between my legs. The beast that lives inside me that wants more.

  He does it again.

  And again.

  Harder, faster. It hurts but I’m pushing into him, silently asking for more.

  More. More. More.

  Abruptly he stops and leans down over my back, his pants rubbing along my fiery skin. He whispers in my ear, “You, and you alone, bring this out in me. I haven’t even scratched the surface of what I want to do to you.”

  “Good.” I pant out the word.

  He laughs. “Somehow I’d expect nothing less from you, because deep down, Ruby, you are nothing but a greedy little slut, desperate to be used by me.”

  If he’d been touching me, I would have come.

  That’s how deeply the words shoot through my body and make me throb.

  Of course, he’s too smart for that, and his hands are nowhere near any place that tips me over the edge. I grip the comforter, squeezing tight. I shift forward, and suddenly become aware that I can press against the mattress to relieve the ache. I circle my hips, groaning when I find the spot, and without thinking, start g
rinding away.

  “Look at you.” His voice is evil and sinister, he grips my hips and jerks me away right as I’m about to go over the edge. “Did I say you could come yet?”

  I gulp and gasp for air. He pushes me down on the bed, flips me over then looks down at me, shaking his head. Then he smiles, like a villain in a movie and it thrills something deep and unnamed inside me. “There’s nothing pure left, Ruby. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

  In answer, I just spread my legs and hope he’ll take it as the surrender I’m intending.

  He reaches down, slicks his fingers, pulls my wetness between the crease of my ass, his touch circling over my quivering flesh.

  I blink up at him and my voice is full and husky when I speak. “What if I don’t like it?”

  He shrugs and continues his teasing. He leans down and circles my clit with his tongue.

  I bow off the bed, letting out a cry. He raises his head. “You might or you might not, but either way you’re going to come your fucking brains out.”

  I have no idea how that’s possible, but Chad has never once not delivered what he’s promised and I trust this is no different.

  “Don’t move.” He straightens, walks over to the nightstand and brings out a bottle of lubricant before returning to me.

  I stare at him and he smiles. His features gentling. “Trust me, okay.”

  “I do.”

  And then cold fingers are circling where I want and fear him most. He meets my gaze and pushes one finger inside. This is something he’s been doing for weeks and my body accepts him without protest. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “There’s something else I want.” He slides two fingers in and with his other hand presses down over my pelvic bone.

  To my shock, it sets off a violent wave of pleasure and my head falls back and rolls, my neck arching as he continues. “Anything.”

  “Anything?” His voice is amused.

  “Yes.” I gasp. “Just don’t stop.”

  Another finger slides inside me, and it’s full. Impossibly tight and stretched. I’m not sure it feels great, but with him grinding the heel of his hand over my pelvic bone it creates a sensation that blurs my vision. He moves his fingers, at the same time he pushes down and I cry out.

  “Play with your nipples.” His voice is gruff.

  I release my death grip on the comforter and stroke over the aching buds.

  “Harder.” His tone is all demand now.

  I pluck them between my fingers, and combined with all the sensations rioting through my body, I get lost. I roll them, becoming more aggressive as he murmurs, “That’s right, girl.”

  It doesn’t take more than a minute before it becomes too much and I yell, “I’m going to come.”

  “No, you are not.” He gentles his touch, slowing everything down. “Not until I’m inside you.”

  And then he’s gone. My hands fall away.

  He strips down until he’s gloriously naked, takes the bottle, and liberally coats his hand. With hooded lids, he strokes his cock, eyes dark. Intense. His cheekbones in stark relief. He’s never looked more gorgeous. More dangerous. And I thank the heavens that someone was smart enough to give him to me.

  This man loves me.

  Loves me like nobody ever has or ever will. Unconditionally and ruthlessly. Without apology.

  He flicks his gaze down my body. “You ready?”

  I lick my lips. “Yes.”

  He climbs onto the bed, adjusting me up and crouching on his haunches between my legs. I go to turn over but he stops me and shakes his head. “No. Face-to-face. So I can watch you.”

  My brow furrows. I didn’t know it could be that way.

  “Trust me.” He presses my legs farther apart, and lines up, the head of his cock nestling at my opening, both a promise and a threat. He keeps one hand on his cock and moves the other to my clit, using his thumb to stroke in slow circles.

  I nod. Suck in a breath.

  “Breathe, girl.” He pushes the tiniest bit before he retreats. “I’ve got you.”

  I attempt to breathe, unsure what to expect, but trusting him.

  He pushes again. Pauses, then retreats. Over and over. Again and again. Until it’s nothing but a tease and I find myself straining to get him closer.

  His touch between my legs is featherlight. Excruciating. I break out into a sweat.

  “Chad.” I arch when he retreats again. “Please.”

  “Soon.” His teeth are gritted, the cords on his neck, coiled tight.

  He surges forward, only to retreat. Picks up the bottle and trickles lube where we’re joined, then starts again.

  My muscles quiver. And somehow, even with everything impossibly slow, I’m about to come.

  He leans over me, putting his hands on either side of my shoulders. “I’m going to push past your muscles and it’s going to hurt, but then it will be over and I’ll be in. And you’ll be claimed.” My core contracts at the word and he bites back a vicious curse. “I can’t wait until you come on my cock.”

  Another clenching and his eyes grow darker than I’ve ever seen and he pushes completely inside.

  It doesn’t hurt as much as it’s uncomfortable, like pressure, and I’m stretched far too tight. I suck in a breath and he whispers, “I know.” But he doesn’t stop. He just keeps going. Pushing past my discomfort. Just when I think I can’t, he pushes, something releases and the pressure eases.

  I slowly exhale and he brushes my hair off my cheek. “You okay?”

  I nod. “I think so.”

  He slowly pulls out and pushes back in and my breath catches on a gasp. I’m not sure what I feel, but it’s dark and forbidden, irresistible. He does it again.

  “Look at me.” His voice is gruff.

  I snap my gaze to his.

  “You are mine.” He thrusts, and then grinds his pelvis over my clit.

  “Yes.”

  “You belong to me.”

  I nod. My throat grows tight.

  He begins to move in earnest, each time making sure he hits the bundle of nerves between my legs. Pushing me closer and closer to an orgasm I thought impossible to achieve.

  Although I should know better than to doubt him. He’s always right. Always.

  His movements pick up speed, and the darkness grows, threatens to consume me.

  “I love you, Ruby.”

  “I love you too.” My words are a gasp.

  I’m on the precipice of something extraordinary. It builds and coils. I flutter my lashes up at him. “Chad.”

  “You’re a good girl.” His thrusts become pounding, punishing, and I can’t pretend I don’t like it. How can I not? It has all the components that drive me mad with lust. There’s something dirty and taboo about liking it. About being this kind of girl.

  My nails clutch his back. Drag down his skin as my need increases. “Please.”

  “You can come.” My body clenches. Strains. He leans down and whispers darkly, “But only because I own every fucking part of you.”

  The orgasm rolls over me, rocking through me, crashing in on me in a pounding blur where all thought ceases and all I can focus on is the pleasure raging through me. My body clenches around him, rippling down his cock and I can feel it—more acutely somehow—greedy and hungry and desperate.

  He growls, slams inside me and comes, triggering another intense orgasm, right on top of the last and it goes on… and on… and on… until I collapse into a helpless heap and float mindless and blissful on the orgasm to end all orgasms.

  I have no idea how long we drift like that before coming back to reality. I stir, and he raises his head.

  He looks down at me, his hair flopping down over his forehead, making him look boyish and angelic instead of the devil he is. He grins. “You did it.”

  “I did.” My eyes sting with tears I don’t quite understand.

  He kisses me—long and slow and soul deep—before he raises his head. “I’m proud of y
ou.”

  I beam, my throat tight. And suddenly I get it.

  Everything I’ve been struggling with comes into crystal-clear focus, sharp and defined. I finally understand what all this dominance and submission stuff is all about. The yin and yang. How he fits with me, and how I fit with him. The perfect, beautiful symmetry of it all.

  I want to please him. I want to rock his world and give him everything. I want to surrender. He’s mine. And I’m his.

  That’s who I am.

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  Can’t get enough emotional, erotic romance? Come Undone.

  Crave

  Sinful

  Unraveled

  Debauched

  Interested in steamy contemporary romance? Try Something New.

  Take A Chance on Me

  The Winner Takes It All

  The Name of the Game

  As Good as New

  She’s My Kind of Girl (Coming September, 27th, 2016)

  Is this your first book in the Undone series? Read on for a special sneak peek at Crave, the 1st book in the Undone Series…

  Eleven P.M.

  Two months. Five days. Twenty-one hours.

  It’s my new record, although I have no sense of accomplishment. No, I’m resigned as I walk down the dark, deserted alley. The heels of my knee-high, black patent boots click against the cracked concrete in echo of my defeat. The distant sounds of the bass thuds in my ears in time to the heavy beat of my heart.

  My own personal staccato of failure.

  I’m not sure why it’s always a surprise. Maybe because, at first, my conviction is so strong. By now my pattern is long and established—I vow, I crave, I give in.

  Rinse. Repeat.

  But, like any good addict, I always swear this time is the last.

 

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