What? Had she hurt him?
She lifted her head from the floor and saw him staring at her crotch like a starved man faced with a loaded buffet table.
* * * *
Within one heartbeat and the next, Zach was hooked. Landed. Snared. His cock sprang to attention, like a fresh recruit facing a pissed-off drill instructor. He swallowed a grunt as the blood fell away from his brain to his dick.
It had been so long since he'd seen an all-American pussy he couldn't look away from the slip of female flesh. Heaven's gate.
Yes, in theory they all looked the same. Of course, there were differences of care and maintenance, but those didn't change the feel of it around his cock. A clenching fist of indescribable pleasure. However, he had his limits, much to the amusement of his fire team. His refusal to play with culturally adjusted cunts had earned him his share of mockery. It just wasn't his thing.
A clitorectomy? As far as he was concerned, it was nothing less than genital mutilation. Yeah, exactly like the infant circumcision still happening in this country. His cock had been cut for that very reason. He didn't thank his parents for making that choice for him, and no way in hell would he allow that to be done to any son of his.
However, here was a genuine American pussy.
Annabel was an all-American girl, full of the rights and privileges of her gender in this post-feminist western society. She carried no load of expectations and cultural suppression on her slender shoulders other than the push for her to be "a success." It showed in every free-spirited movement of her body.
And today she'd chosen to bring her bared pussy to the condo he called home, a la commando. Hunger bit savagely through his guts. It has been so long since he'd gazed upon the pussy of an unfettered American girl.
"Oh shit," she said. "Embarrassing. Sorry."
With an obvious attempt to conceal herself, she slid her leg across the plastic mat and dropped her knee. At the same time, she grabbed a fistful of her skirt and tossed it toward her feet.
The portal of heaven was closing.
"No, wait. Don't." He caught the skirt and flicked it away, then used the same hand to interrupt the downward movement of her knee. His dick jerked. It felt like a roundhouse kick to the nuts.
"I got used to going without undies. Jeremy said--"
"Oh, uggh, stop. Stop. I don't want to know about my brother's fuck habits." He shook his head to dislodge the sudden and unwelcome images. Where was a can of industrial-grade mind bleach when you needed it?
"I wasn't going to... What I meant to say was--" She bit off her words.
To his ears, she sounded even more embarrassed. After a moment though, she recovered.
"You're acting like you've never seen a pussy before."
Brisk. Biting. All Annabel.
"It's been a while since I've seen an American pussy."
"Give me a break," she scoffed. "American women serve in the military."
"The female troops don't have the reason or desire to trim the bushes."
He inhaled long and reveled in the experience. The scent of her body spun his head. Free and fresh; no touch of sweat, gunpowder, or military-issue rifle grease tainted the scent of any part of her.
"God, you smell good."
"Oh!"
She wouldn't be embarrassed if she knew the treat she was to this Marine.
"Just let me take you in for a few more seconds. Consider it a patriotic service to a poor, deprived veteran."
"Oh," she said again.
Her pussy lips blushed. They actually blushed. They turned pink and full and, dear God, a pearl of moisture gathered on one deliciously nude nether lip. It eased down the labia, leaving a silvered path in its wake, and pooled on the inside joint of her leg. She shivered.
Additional moisture glazed her perfect pussy lips. It turned her on to have him visually absorb her. Hell, it turned him on, too. His cock felt like a damned tree trunk. Hadn't his leg been hurting? He couldn't remember.
He puffed a warm breath across her cunt. She whimpered. Another shiver wracked her. He blew another stream of air at her, this one longer and more intense. Her hips lifted fractionally from the floor as she arched into the sensation. He heard the plastic mat crackle as though she'd grabbed at it.
Steady, devil dog, he told himself. They were here to repair something he'd broken. They were here to build trust. They were not here to... Oh, hell. He shoved himself onto his stomach, arranged himself better on the mat to accommodate his goal, and fit his mouth to her pussy.
The taste of tart honey bloomed on his tongue.
* * * *
The surge of unspeakable pleasure swept over her like a brutal riptide. Helpless, she could do nothing but ride the currents. He licked, he lapped, he teased her clit with his tongue. He rearranged himself over her, one arm beneath one knee and the other pulling her leg farther open. His intimate kiss deepened. Her twat muscles fluttered as he tongued the actual gateway of her body.
So long... Jeremy had never... he would never... Oh, sweet Jesus...
She could cry from this pleasure. Her chest ached. She'd forgotten to breathe. She could pass out from lack of air. Someone's desperate gasp pushed into her awareness.
Hers. She pulled air into her nearly frozen lungs. Again. Again.
Inventive, showing no frustration with his reversed position, he rubbed his chin across her clit. The soft bristle of his night beard abraded the demanding nubbin with a sweet sizzle. The air left her chest on a strangled wheeze. Her eyes closed.
A web of lightning effervesced along her nerves to center on that tiny point of ecstasy. A wave of molten fire wrapped around her tighter, hotter, so intense she felt a scream tear from her throat. An orgasm rushed toward her like an avalanche, sheets of blinding white and tumbling breathlessness.
No, no, it would not happen like this.
She grabbed for her control and managed to find enough of it to locate and free his cock from his sweatpants. It fell unencumbered onto her shoulder like a shaft of warm steel. She reached and encircled him with one hand.
He shuddered.
She palmed his cocktip.
His hips rocked.
Pre-cum varnished her palm. She caressed his length. Gave it a firm squeeze.
He growled. The nuzzling and lapping at her slowed... distracted...
Victory swept her. They'd see who was the boss.
She sent her tongue down his cock's shaft, delighting in every wrinkle, ridge, and hungry pulsation. She gave a few flicks of her tongue across his cocktip, then angled it to facilitate her need.
She took him into her mouth. She opened her throat and took him deep, so deep that his balls nudged her nose. Convulsively, she swallowed, her throat closing around his thickness.
A long growl filled the air from between her thighs where he hesitated, preoccupied by what she was doing to him. She worked his cock in and out of her mouth, taking him with long and liquid strokes. He sucked in a hard breath and stopped playing his tongue across her pussy.
Oh, yeah, who is the boss now?
He answered her silent question with a shift of his hand. His fingers probed once, twice, then delved inside, sweeping away the foundations of her awareness just like that.
God, had he used three fingers?
He worked them inside her body, playing with the super-sensitive nerves at her entrance. A glorious pressure built on her anus, but no penetration. His pinkie knuckle? She met each plunge of his fingers with a tightening of her pussy, seizing every bit of pleasure, hungry for more...and more...
His cock filled her mouth, a velvet-covered steel shaft that throbbed warmly. She swallowed a spurt of pre-ejaculate. He somehow expanded, filling her mouth even more thoroughly. His balls were hard rocks against her nose.
That fucker would come first. He'd be the one who-- He took her clit into his mouth and began a gentle but relentless suckling. The orgasm was ripped from her hands, from her control, as he drew against her clitoris and plundered he
r body. A tidal wave of delirium-inducing pleasure loomed just...over...the horizon...
She let his cock slip from her mouth. No, not me first.
"Yes. Oh, God, yes!"
She screamed as the orgasm crashed over her, awareness reduced to a maelstrom of sensation and white light. She fell, endlessly fell, as waves of herself exploded outward, sending shards of her consciousness into a star-studded universe.
He waited until she'd stopped trembling before rolling away from her. She managed to force her eyes open enough to watch him as he flopped onto his back. His cock, rampant and flushed, sprang from the crotch of his gym pants. He gripped its base, his face stark and taunt, and applied the ages-old method of stifling his orgasm.
He hadn't taken his pleasure. And as she watched, he forced himself farther from the precipice of his orgasm and into a place of absolute control. He released his cock and lowered his hand, then turned his head in her direction and offered a wicked smile.
"My dick," he said. "My choice."
Chapter 11
On the next night, Annabel unpacked their takeout food in his kitchen. The plastic carryout bag crackled a protest. Clouds of steam rose from sweet white rice as she spooned out servings. The scent of charbroiled pork and shrimp in a light fish sauce tickled her nose. Crispy spring rolls rattled against the plates as she tipped them free of the plastic. Beside her, Zach cracked open a can of Vietnamese beer.
Apparently, the Vietnamese loved their beer. Who knew? She hadn't.
"You look good in my kitchen," he whispered into her ear. "You'd look better naked."
She rolled her eyes. Men.
Annabel turned from the counter and faced him. As she expected, he stood unusually close to her, his energy filling the area with his unique masculine vigor. Her skin shivered at his nearness, and her breath tangled in her throat. Not from fear, though. No, by now she was used to him so close.
As they'd stood at the counter, choosing and ordering their dinner, he'd spent most of the time inside her personal bubble. He'd whispered his suggestions and requests into her ear, with the resulting occasional incidental contact of his lips to her earlobe.
"Do you mind?" she'd asked.
"An accident," he'd said, wearing an expression of wounded innocence.
She'd raised her eyebrow in disbelief.
The Asian matriarch at the counter had smiled her approval, showing an uneven pattern of yellowed teeth. She'd obviously thought his actions were affectionate. She had no idea he played the reins of control--to "repair damage."
Unfortunately for her determined goal for inflexible independence, she warmed in his presence. It felt natural, normal, and healthy to have him there. She wasn't afraid.
He set the can's edge to her lips and tipped it as she opened her mouth. Cold beer filled her mouth, the taste of hops and a hint of seasoning that spoke of a wild, foreign country. Delightful! She could understand why the Vietnamese people liked this beverage. Now she understood why he'd bought a six-pack.
"Where did you learn about Vietnamese beer?" she asked.
He leaned close to whisper again. "I spent some time on a Korean base."
She shivered as his breath tickled the skin. "They have Vietnamese beer on a Korean base?"
He did a double take at the question, but answered politely enough, "That bar did."
A silly question, she admitted to herself. Of course, the local watering hole would cater to all nationalities, especially those in close proximity. Importing beer from 'Nam had to be a lot cheaper than hauling cases of American beer over the ocean. Well, if Vietnam was closer than America, that is...which it was...right?
She picked up a plate loaded with food and offered it. "Ready to eat?"
"You have no idea how hungry I am." He nearly purred as he accepted it.
She felt her blush deepen as a burn fired across her cheeks. Bubbles fizzed in her blood as it rushed through her body. She said nothing and followed him out of the kitchen. This time, they commandeered the over-stuffed sofa and sat side-by-side to enjoy the meal.
It was a delight to learn they shared similar tastes in offbeat comedies. Their mutual laughter filled the condo as the two buddies on the screen crashed wedding after wedding in their quest for a hookup. Soon their plates were empty and only the movie credits remained.
And her thoughts.
He slipped another disk into the DVD player and returned to the couch, where he sat back with a sigh and positioned his arm along the backrest. Her shoulders brushed his arm when she breathed. Embers of the fire they'd built together heated, causing what felt like a caramelizing of her blood.
He turned her on just by sitting next to her. That fact pissed her off, especially since last night's fiasco, where he'd resisted her attempts to bring him to orgasm. That was no easy task, if she did say so herself. She was more than capable of driving a man to his knees. Her sexual history had proven that, but he-- Hell, he'd chosen not to come.
As easy as that. Just an inner "nope" and done-done-done.
She'd never been able to control her orgasms like that.
In fact, it was an astonishing glimpse of his control, unsettling and aggravating as well.
Annabel controlled the bedroom, no matter the "dynamic" displayed to outsiders. She chose where, when, and how a man would be permitted to use her body and, if things were blended properly, she was known to find pleasure in the business. Hell, yeah, she was the one in control. Well, except for Zach, Mr. My-dick-My-choice Roberson. Fucker.
Not gonna happen again. No way.
She adjusted herself on the couch, sliding over his lap with a twist of her body. Zach gave a grunt as she disturbed his focus on the movie. She reclined against the plump armrest and gave him what she hoped was a dazzling smile. He rewarded her with a narrowed look sent from suspicious eyes.
"Stuffed," she said and patted her tummy. Not much of an excuse, true, but it would do until she made her move.
As expected, Zach adjusted his position to accommodate her weight over his thighs and returned his attention to the movie. He moved his arm from the backrest, flicked up the edge of her skirt, and idly rubbed the bared knee. Her nipples tightened. He took a pull from the beer can sitting beside his elbow. The gleam of moisture on his lips turned her mouth into a desert of need. He licked his lips. She swallowed hard.
She'd watch the movie later, maybe even somewhere else. Right now, she had more interesting fun in mind: having her way with his gorgeous body.
She put her hand into his lap at the same moment he set down the beer.
He jumped, nearly toppling the can from the end table, and gave a startled curse. He turned his head toward her, his brows raised above widened eyes. The shaft of man-meat beneath her hand filled with gratifying speed. She heard the crackle-pop of his fingers denting the aluminum as he grabbed to keep it from falling.
Annabel ran her fingertips along the turgid length that ridged the crotch of his casual summer slacks. Long, hard, wide, the feel of it brought a wave of longing that nearly sent her reeling...onto her back. She sighed with longing, the sound as the movie playing on the big-screen TV muffled it.
She played her nails against the zipper's metallic teeth. A curl of longing bloomed inside her womb.
He filled more, pressing against his clothing's confinement. When she cupped his balls, Zach made a sound that was either a grunt or a choked-off moan. The throttled sound sizzled along her nerves like a stroke of lightning.
"What are you doing, girl?"
Arousal freighted his voice. She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
"Really? You can't tell?"
He sighed. "Annabel..."
"Building trust, remember? I'm exploring."
"Exploring my cock is building trust?"
"Oh, yeah," she said, with a purr in her voice. "Last night, you didn't come. I'm exploring the depth of your resistance. I want to see if I can trust it."
He rolled his eyes, obviously disbelieving the lie, but only s
aid, "Fine."
She might have been pissed with the Mr. Domly-Dom attitude, except the edges of his mouth curled, as if he was trying not to smile. Oh, game on now, dude. By God, she would control this thing between them, whatever the hell it was.
She fondled his balls.
His fingers played a restless tune on the end table.
She traced abstract designs along the length of his ever-hardening cock.
His jaw tightened. A muscle flexed in his cheek.
She tightened her hands around his cocktip and teased the glans.
He sucked in a deep breath.
She brought her mouth to his ear and puffed her breath across his skin, which pebbled in response. "I'm wondering, Zach, how long you can resist me."
Zach reached up, took hold of her chin, and pulled her head away from his. The gray of his eyes had darkened into the color of thunderclouds.
"I accept your challenge," he said and used the remote to pause the movie.
* * * *
The gleam in Annabel's eyes amused Zach. He swallowed a chuckle and let her play her cards. That she believed she had a winning hand was obvious, but the truth was her fight for control was nothing more than another indication of her shattered trust.
Control wasn't a magic pill against emotional trauma, as any naturally dominant participant of the Owner/property dynamic could attest to. There was no immunity from heartache. There was only the courage to try again...and again when necessary.
Annabel had the courage. She simply hadn't chosen to again take that chance. Not yet, at any rate. And what had gone on between her and Jeremy? The brother he knew wasn't a sadist, but there were questions unanswered, actions unexplained, and toxic repercussions only compounded the damage.
"A question of financial submission," said Seth's voice in his memory. "The cards were in her name."
A discussion for another place and time, he concluded. Right now, he would enjoy this game. Her sweet attempts to manage their sexual dynamic couldn't hide her desire to be found pleasing. That was the truth of a slave's nature. Her heart beat with a need to belong, which would easily be developed into a slave's devotion. If she had the right trainer, that is.
In Control Page 8