“Being inside you…Temple, honey—” he stopped, as if at a loss, gathering my hair into a ponytail, and then wrapped it around his fist. “Fucking you is…god, I’m never tongue-tied. I just don’t have words for how good your pussy feels squeezing around my cock.”
I felt him tug on my hair, and I shifted backward toward him, taking him deeper, and then I felt him pull out almost all the way, leaving just the tip in, and then with a grunt he fucked into me and yanked my hair to pull me backward. His grip shifted, twisting so his fist was buried against my scalp, tilting my head back. He pushed me down so my face and tits were pressed against the bed, my ass in the air, my pussy impaled on his cock.
He fucked me breathless.
Each jerk of my hair, each slap of his hips against my ass, each drive of his dick into me, and I lost more of my ability to breathe, to function, to think, to do anything except cry out in ecstasy. He fucked me, and he fucked me, and he fucked me, pulling my hair to yank me back into each thrust.
I felt something hot and crazy welling up inside me, something powerful, something enormous. And the harder he fucked me, the hotter and harder it got, spreading through me until I was a wild thing, desperate to reach whatever it was Duke was building inside me with this rough, hair-pulling, spank-my-ass brand of sex.
“Duke…” I breathed. I wasn’t sure what I was asking.
He just grunted at me, a feral, brutish snarl of inquisition.
“Please.”
“Please what, Princess?”
“I need—” I didn’t know what I needed.
“What do you need, honey? Tell me.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, beginning to writhe back into him, to give in to the need for madness, my fingers clawing into the blanket, slamming back into his thrusts, crying out between desperate gasps. “More of…you…god, I don’t know!”
I felt his breath on my ear. “You’re perfect, Temple Kennedy,” he whispered. “And I know exactly what you need.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, babe.” He slowed his thrusting, then, skimming both hands down my spine to rest on my ass; I was afraid he was going to spank me again, but all he did was caress me possessively, affectionately. “Touch your pussy for me, gorgeous. I wanna feel you come around my cock.”
“I—I want you to come,” I breathed.
“Oh, I will,” he said. “I’ll come when you do.”
“At the same time?”
“That’s the plan,” he said. “You ever have a mutual orgasm with anyone?”
“No,” I whispered. “Have you?”
“Only once,” he admitted, “and finding that again has been a fantasy of mine for a long-ass time.”
“And you think we can do that?”
“Fancy, I have absolutely zero doubt.”
“Why?”
“Because…” he started, trailing off. He leaned over my back, pressing his lips to my ear again. “Because our chemistry is off the fucking charts, Temple. For reasons I can’t explain and in ways I don’t even understand myself…I just…I know you. I know your body. I know what you want when even you don’t.”
I couldn’t deny what he was saying. “We’re…there’s a connection here, isn’t there? That’s what you’re saying.”
Duke’s hesitation, then, spoke volumes. He pulled his hips back, paused at the apex of his withdrawal, and then slid back into me, but slowly. Gently. Reverently, almost. Groaning deep in his chest.
“Yes, Temple,” he murmured as he filled me. He pulled back again, slowly this time, and when he pushed back in, he did it leaning over me, whispering into my ear, intimate, his voice a rough, ragged and raw. “There’s a connection between us. A fucking intense one.”
“It scares me,” I murmured.
“Me too.” Duke’s voice was almost inaudible as he whispered this admission. “I’ve been through a dozen different kinds of hell, so there ain’t much that scares me anymore. But babe, this shit between us scares me.”
“God, Duke—what’s it mean?”
“It means start touching your pussy.”
I pressed my cheek into the mattress, letting my head, shoulders, and chest take my weight, and slipped my fingers between my thighs. Found my clit and gave it a hesitant touch; I’ve never touched myself during sex before, only after. That single touch made me flinch hard as searing pleasure shot through me.
“Oh…fuck,” I grunted.
“You never touch your pussy during sex?” I shook my head, and Duke laughed. “Babe, you’ve seriously been doing sex all wrong.”
“I think I’m starting to agree with you.”
“I ain’t a facts and trivia sort of dude,” Duke said, “but I happen to know that at least eighty percent of women find it difficult if not impossible to reach orgasm without direct clitoral stimulation.”
I couldn’t help a laugh at hearing Duke—big, muscular, über-macho, all testosterone and guns and protein shakes Duke Silver—spouting a factoid about female orgasm like some kind of sex nerd.
“It’s true,” he insisted.
“I’m not laughing because I think you’re wrong, I just—it’s funny, hearing you say that.”
“Why?”
“Because like you said, you’re not a random facts kind of guy.” I laughed again, but it was breathless, because Duke was thrusting rythmically, slowly and gently, and my fingers were finding the rhythm I needed to reach climax.
“Maybe not, but I am a sex kind of guy, and that’s a handy fact to know,” he murmured. “Maybe I’m weird about this, but I get off harder when my partner is losing her damn mind. The harder I can make you come, the harder I’ll come. So if you’re not getting all the pleasure possible when we’re fucking, then I’m doing it wrong. Porn’s got it all wrong, is what I’ve learned. That shit is stupid. Women ain’t gonna get off just by pounding into ‘em like a damn jackhammer.”
I realized something else that was weird about having sex with Duke: all the talking. I’m the first to admit that most of the time, I’m a stereotypical motor-mouth blonde, but get me naked and put a dick in me, and I clam up. I just don’t know what to say, and don’t see the point of all the talking; just fuck me and go away, already.
But, as Duke said, I’ve been doing sex all wrong, I was realizing.
The problem is, I’m relatively certain at this point that I’ll never find anyone equal to Duke in terms of doing it right.
Because HOLY SHIT, this was intense.
I don’t have the word to capture what Duke was making me feel, what he was doing to me.
He was fucking me, his cock sliding slowly into my pussy and withdrawing, each wet inch driving raw ecstasy through me filling me, stretching me apart, pushing the ecstasy into something so virulently, violently potent there wasn’t really a word for it. Add in the touch of my own fingers on my clit, circling with the precision and rhythm you can only give yourself, and the orgasm slammed through me hard and fast, an abrupt, unstoppable tsunami of spastic bliss.
“Oh fuck, Duke—Jesus, Jesus, I’m coming so hard—” I lost my voice, then, had it stolen by the violence of the climax.
I dissolved into screaming, thrashing madness, slamming back into Duke, and then as I called out my impending orgasm, he started fucking me hard and fast, my fingers a blur on my clit the whole time.
“Duke, I—fuck, ohmyfuckingod—I want you to come with me.”
In another of his lightning fast snake-strike moves, he pulled out of me and flipped me to my back. I was left gaping, gasping, curled into a quivering, thigh-trembling mess, mouth open as I fought for breath, pussy clenching at the sudden loss of Duke inside me
“Duke, please, god…please—” I whimpered, reaching for him, not caring how pathetic and desperate and breathy and porn-star whimpery I sounded—that was exactly how I felt.
Duke planted a hand into the mattress beside me, his massive bulk levered over me. His chest blocked out everything, his abs were rippling ridges of iron-hard
muscle, his cock was a long, thick, jutting monster, his arms bulging, his hips trim and narrow. His eyes blazed, intense and virile and fiery.
And that was when I realized something that left me shaking: everything up to that point, up until he flipped me to my back, had been the build up.
What was about to happen now…this was the main event.
He was breathing hard, but not just from exertion. His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, his expression fierce and primal and possessive and promising dark and dirty and beautiful things I couldn’t begin to fathom.
He was on top of me, over me, staring down at me, just breathing, just staring into my eyes for a moment out of time, and I felt the connection we’d both acknowledged snapping and sparking between us, felt it as real and physical as an electric shock; that moment, no part of our bodies touching, just our eyes meeting…
It felt like gripping a live power cable, it felt like a million joules coursing through me.
“Duke,” I whispered.
And then he pounced.
He stroked my slit, guiding himself into me, and then bracing himself with both hands. I cried out in relief as he filled me, and this time I had his eyes, had his open, unguarded expression to go with the physical sensation, and I knew then that I’d never feel anything like this singular moment ever again, his eyes spearing into me, his cock sliding deep, gliding into me, the real and undeniable emotional or psychological or whatever it was connection crackling between us.
But I was wrong.
It got even more intense:
He kissed me.
Good god, he kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before.
And now he was inside me, and he was kissing me. He was moving, thrusting, filling me and withdrawing and pushing in and dragging out and his tongue was tangling with mine and he was moaning into my mouth as he moved, as we moved together.
Because this was…
Something totally other than sex.
More.
So much more.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, discovering that I had hands, and that I wanted to touch him. My hands scoured his skin, clawed down his shoulders and raked his sides. I ripped his topknot out and ran my fingers through his soft silk hair and cupped the back of his head and grabbed his ass and dug my fingers into the hard muscle around his spine, and all the while I was discovering as well that my hips had a mind of their own.
I was utterly wild.
We couldn’t sustain the kiss any longer, then, and I was the first to break away, gasping on a sob. I promptly bit his shoulder and cried out, teeth latched onto the thick trapezius muscles.
“Temple—” he snarled, sounding as stunned and breathless as I was.
“Don’t—don’t ever stop, Duke,” I said, and then kissed him where my teeth had left red marks on his pale skin. “God, please don’t stop.”
I forced my gaze up to his, and found what I was looking for, what I’d always been looking for, without ever realizing it: A man, powerful, confident—arrogant, even—completely focused on me without being intimidated by me…who could fuck me senseless and push me out of my boundaries, and yet, in that moment, he was completely vulnerable.
I saw his fear at how intense this was, and I knew it was everything to him that it was to me. I saw his need…for me. I saw his desire for me, which was a separate thing from the need.
I reached up, clutched the back of his neck, and pulled his face down to mine. Touched my lips to the shell of his ear. Cupped his pumping, pulsing ass in my other hand, heels hooking around the backs of his thighs just beneath his buttocks.
I whispered in his ear: “Let go, Duke.”
I felt another orgasm boiling up deep inside me. I let go of his butt and wedged that hand between our bodies, touched my clit, felt the white-hot lightning slice through me at my touch, spasms seizing my belly and my legs and my core. My thighs trembled and my hand clamped down on Duke’s neck, clutching as hard as I could.
“Duke—let go, baby.” I bit his lower lip, writhing my hips against his, taking his cock as deep as it would with each slow thrust. “Let go with me. I’m gonna come again. Come with me.”
“Temple—” he growled, and one of his hands brushed across my breasts and then found my free hand and our fingers tangled together stretched out over our heads. “Fuck, fuck. Temple—Jesus.”
I squeezed his hand, clamping down as we ground our bodies together, the room echoing with the sound of our grunts and sighs and the wet sucking slapping.
I felt him begin to lose control, then. His fucking thrusts lost their machine-like rhythm and his breathing went ragged and he was grunting and groaning. Each thrust was magic, filling me, stretching me, and my fingers were crazy on my clit and he was slamming hard and fast now.
“Yes, Duke, Duke, god, keep fucking me. Come with me, Duke.”
I felt the orgasm rip apart inside me, felt my pussy squeeze around his cock, and I wrapped around him, yanked my hand free of his and curled my legs around his waist and clawed my fingernails down his back as I came with such intensity that tears started in my eyes and the waves of climax physically wracked me and my voice was hoarse from shrill breathless screams.
“Holy shit, Temple—Temple,” Duke gasped, awed, reverent, stunned.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!” I cried out, “come with me, Duke, now, come with me now!”
“Now, Temple. Do you feel me?” He wedged a hand under my head and jerked me up, his lips smashing against mine, his mouth trembling, his breath coming ragged.
He wrapped his other hand under my ass and lifted me up bodily so he was upright on his knees and I was impaled on his cock and he was holding me clenched against his body, his face buried in the side of my neck, his hips swiveling, his cock drilling up into me. I clung to him and hooked my feet together behind his back, lifting myself up and letting myself fall onto him, my lips at his ear, my teeth scraping, breath stuttering in gasping whimpers.
“I feel you,” I whispered. “I feel us.”
“Us,” he repeated.
“Us.”
He pulled his head back far enough that he could meet my eyes. And that was when he came. He released with a bellow, an animal growl, and even through the condom I felt the power of his orgasm. He slammed up into me hard, hard, so fucking hard, his hips slapping up against my ass, his hands clutching my buttocks and spreading them apart so his thrusts drove deeper than ever, fucking as deep as he could go, and now as he came his thrusts went staccato, more powerful then ever but arrhythmic.
“Temple—Temple—Temple—“ he chanted my name as he fucked me, but I knew this was so much more than fucking, infinitely more, because neither of us dared look away.
He poured himself into me with his eyes open and boring into mine, and I came around him, quaking and shuddering and gasping and whimpering and sobbing, feeling my tits bounce with each powerful thrust.
He finally finished his orgasm, and allowed us to fall to the bed, me on my back, and him above me.
I buried my hands in his hair, tangling my fingers tight against his scalp and yanked him down to me and kissed him, biting his lip and demanding his tongue, my pussy spasming around his cock. He shuddered, hips still flexing out of involuntary reflex, and his moan as I kissed him came from the depths of his soul, as did the sob from me.
A long moment spent kissing and shuddering and shivering together, and then he flopped to one side, pulling out of me, and then cradling me in his arms. I curled against him automatically, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to snuggle against his chest, my thigh across his, my hand on his belly, low, just above the slackening, condom-sheathed length of his cock. The tip of the condom was heavy with his come, and his breath came in ragged heaves.
“Jesus,” he gasped, after a moment. “That was…”
“I had no idea,” I said.
He swiveled his head to look at me. “Me either.”
“So the one mutual orgasm yo
u had—”
“Was a firecracker in comparison to what we just did together,” he finished for me. “That was…nuclear. I don’t know any other word for it.”
“It’s not just that I’ve never felt anything like that before,” I said. “Which is true, but everything I’ve done with you so far is just…new, and different, and better. This was…fuck. I don’t even know how to say it. It was just…I didn’t even know it was possible for sex to be…just—”
“So much more, in every single way?”
I nodded, and then, for some reason, kissed his chest. Once my lips found his skin, I couldn’t quite stop them from exploring. First I kissed his chest, the flat hard bulge of his pec, and then across between them, leaning over him, pressing against him.
“Temple?” He seemed as confused as I was by what I was doing.
I looked up at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Not with any of this.”
“Me either,” he answered, “but…keep going.”
9: TAKEN
Holy shit. Just…holy fucking shit. We’d cuddled. I’d never done that. Never. Once the chick and I were finished, I wouldn’t necessarily just bounce out of there or kick her out, but I sure as hell didn’t fucking snuggle. But with Temple, it just felt like the easiest, most natural thing in the world to snug her into my arms against my chest and hold here there. And the weirdest fucking part was that it didn’t feel weird at all.
And then she started kissing my chest. Like, what the fuck? But it felt…incredible. Not sexual, but…affectionate. Still erotic, but in a tender way. And I liked it. I wanted her to keep doing it. So I touched her wherever I could reach her as she moved over me, kissing my skin. I caressed her shoulder, her hair, her waist, as she gradually moved closer and closer to me, moving more and more on top of me, her mouth exploring my body. She started at my chest, and then moved to my ribs, then up to my opposite shoulder, and by that point she was basically laying on top of me. Her hands were busy too, just sliding and touching and clutching. Her lips found my neck, my throat, underneath my chin—and god, that, her lips kissing the soft underside of my jaw, it was so crazy intensely personal and just so…much—for lack of a better word—that I couldn’t breathe. Then, Jesus, then her lips stuttered and jumped and flicked over my jawline and up to my cheek, kissing, cheek to cheekbone and then to just this side of my ear, her breath loud and hot on my ear. I had a double handful of her ass, clutching and kneading, and then as her kisses went up to my face and my hands slid, of their volition, up to her back and into her hair.
Duke: Alpha One Security: Book 3 Page 18