by Leigh, Mara
Leaving the dildo inside her, he scrambled to sheath his dick with a condom. Ready, he whipped out the fake cock to replace it with his own.
“Oh, thank, God,” she cried out. “You feel so good. So big. So hot.”
He gritted his teeth. She felt good, too—warm and tight and pulsing around him.
He fought to concentrate on something else, anything else, as he slowly thrust inside her, but the movement of her pelvis, the tightening of her cunt, her low moans with each stroke, drove him mad.
With no regard for his job, with no regard for her, with no regard for whose fantasy he was meant to fulfill, he grabbed the sides of the table, braced himself, and completely and utterly lost control.
***
Jake pounded into Deana with the fury she’d yearned for, yet hadn’t expected. Every nerve, every cell, every molecule in her body hummed with an intensity that pushed aside all thoughts of who had control or why she’d come here. Even restrained, even blindfolded, she’d never been so free. Her body felt so loose, so welcoming to the slamming thrusts of his dick, filling and stretching her, reaching places she’d never been touched. Not like this.
His balls slapped against her asshole, nudging the butt plug, and his body’s pressure forced her down onto that spiky pad, focusing her pain and pleasure into a single searing point.
Sparks lit behind her eyes and she detonated in a burst of white-hot heat. Her inner muscles contracted around Jake’s thick cock, convulsing in wave after wave of pure bliss. The heat of his body, the power of his unrelenting penetration, the sounds of his pleasure, amplified her explosion and she thought her orgasm might never end.
He continued to fuck her as aftershocks contracted her belly and made her thrash and convulse and pull against her restraints. The nipple clips, the plug up her asshole, the spikes biting at her ass cheeks, heightened both the pleasure and pain. Even the fur under her back added to the overwhelming sensations of his deep thrusts.
One of the nipple clamps released its sharp pinch. Before she could consider whether she missed it, his warm mouth replaced the clamp, sucking, licking, pulling, nipping her hard peak.
“You taste so good.”
His voice vibrated through her body, setting off another wave of pleasure. She exploded again, her body bucking, contracting, writhing—all sense of propriety, of pride, of dignity discarded.
The light changed, and she realized her blindfold was gone. She opened her eyes to find his face above hers. Power and pleasure sparked from his eyes and she opened her lips, hoping he might kiss her.
But his head snapped back. His eyes squeezed shut, the veins on his face, his neck, pulsed, and his body went rigid. He pulled himself higher onto the table and drove into her, his lips parting in an agonizing groan.
She pushed up, meeting his climax, taking it all in, wanting to prolong this feeling as long as she could.
As his body relaxed, his eyes came back to meet hers and her breath hitched, her heart skipped, and a warmth more powerful, more painful, more soothing than any physical bliss filled her chest. For that instant, it was as if she knew this man, knew his secrets, and he knew hers.
Crazy. She didn’t do intimacy, and Jake was an actor, doing his job.
His hand cradled her head as his broad body pressed down over hers. She was trapped, completely vulnerable, and yet safe, protected in a way she’d never felt beneath a man. The few times she’d allowed a lover on top, she’d push him off the second he came. How bizarre that she wanted Jake to stay this way. Stay on top of her. Stay inside of her. Stay in control.
The feeling was perfect, except she wanted her arms and her legs free so she could hold on. She wanted to feel his smooth skin, the strength in his muscles; she wanted to keep him inside her forever. She squeezed around his semi-hard dick and swore she could feel him lengthening, hardening inside her. His hot breath bathed her face in a comforting blanket of warmth and spice, his lips inches from hers. Oh, how she wanted a taste of him, but with her muscles leaden, she couldn’t even find the energy to lift her head to steal a kiss.
Finally, his lips brushed over hers, light, soft, like a butterfly landing, and in spite of all that had happened, it was the most erotic, most sensual thing she’d ever felt.
“Kiss me.” The words floated from her lips on a low breath, caught by his.
He stiffened, and in one swift movement he jumped off her like a bungee cord had snapped him back.
She’d blown it. She’d asked for something when she wasn’t supposed to.
“Jake.” She struggled against the restraints, wanting to touch him, to force him to look at her. She wanted to look into his eyes, more than she’d wanted anything in her entire life. “I’m sorry.”
“Silence.” His rough voice returned.
“Jake, you don’t need to be like that, not anymore.” He’d moved out of her sight line, and she strained her neck, trying to find him. “You did your job. I got what I paid for. I just want to feel your body against mine a while longer. I want to touch you.”
In the silence that followed, embarrassment and shame crept in—like cold fingers scrambling over all the places that had been warmed by his hands, his cock, their sex—cooling her inexplicable feelings of intimacy. She closed her eyes and firmed her jaw.
She was a fool. “Get me out of these fucking cuffs. Now.”
He stepped into view and she fought to read his expression. His strong jaw was steeled, but his eyes transmitted something else.
“Forgive me.” He dropped his head and reached forward to slip the rubber mat from under her ass and release the butt plug.
His actions felt so cold, so clinical, but when the flesh of her ass hit the fur she couldn’t help but cry out. Her ass, temporarily numbed by that spiky pad, had awoken, burning. Her skin was sensitive, even to the fur, and aware of every hair as it abraded her over-stimulated nerve endings.
He pulled on a rope and the restraints lifted her ass off the surface. Before she could react, his large hands were rubbing her stinging skin with something cooling and soft.
“It’s aloe,” he said. “Does that feel okay? I hurt you. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have fucked you. It was unprofessional.”
Shouldn’t have fucked you? Unprofessional? His words echoed in her mind and stung. She’d let him completely control her, and it meant nothing to him. Of course it didn’t. Regret and humiliation bubbled in her chest, and she tried to morph it into indignation and anger.
“Is this apology part of the act? Because I have to tell you, Jake, this bit of your routine isn’t doing it for me. I got what I wanted. There’s no need to go all mushy and apologize.”
His jaw shifted as his hands continued to rub the salve into her ass, and again she felt the deep burn of desire.
As stupid as she’d been to fall for his act, for thinking—even for an instant—that the sex had been more than his job, this Adonis of a man, with just his clever, clever hands, could still launch rockets inside her.
Leaving her ass hanging, the air cool after the aloe, he released one of her arms and skillfully massaged it. His body was so close, his beautiful dick so near her face. She turned the other way, angry that the sight of him—combined with his hands on her skin—could so easily control her arousal.
She bit down on her tongue. She still wanted to understand why he’d apologized, but pressing him to answer would be a mistake. She’d yielded too much already, and the last thing she needed was pity. It was time to regain control of this situation. If only she could clear the fog in her mind.
Waves of pleasure quaked through her, trailing out from under his hands as they stroked and revived her depleted muscles, muddled her nerve endings, confounded her emotions, negated every attempt at clear-headed thinking.
“Why did you apologize?” The words escaped against her will.
His hands froze. “This was supposed to be about you,” he said softly. “I made it about me.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and goosebumps cascaded
over her skin. Did that mean he’d felt something, too?
No, that was ridiculous. He was simply good at his job. And now that he’d fucked her, he was making her feel special. It was part of the service and probably good for repeat business.
He released her other arm. “I lost control,” he said. “I used you to get myself off. That’s never happened with a client before.”
Warmth and joy infused the pleasure swelling inside her, heightening her building desire. “I didn’t mind.” She closed her eyes, angry that her vulnerable words had escaped and wanting to shield herself from his response.
He moved along the table, close to her body, his hands never leaving her skin, until one reached for the ropes to lower her ass. “It wasn’t professional.”
The word ‘professional’ again. It stung, but she exhaled a ragged breath as the still-burning skin on her ass returned to the fur. She had to remember that no matter what he said, this was business. Which was hard while his hands were stroking the backs of her thighs.
Her sex squeezed. And he could probably see it; she was still spread before him.
“Was your fantasy really fulfilled?” He kissed her inner thigh. “Did you get what you wanted?” He kissed the other.
“Yes.” She bit her lip and opened her eyes as he uncuffed one ankle.
“I’m glad.” His hands massaged the newly liberated leg, pressing out soreness she hadn’t realized was there. “You’re still tight.”
Placing the already free leg on his shoulder, he released the other and massaged and stroked and kissed her thighs, her calves, the backs of her knees. Her ability to form coherent thoughts vanished.
He stepped back and pulled the lower section of the table back under her legs. “Turn over.”
She complied without question, and his hands settled on her back, massaging, stroking, forcing out tension, making her moan.
His fingers trailed down the sides of her spine, over her hips, and circled the mounds of her ass.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
A rush of heat shot through her. Ignore it. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.” She tried to sound witty and show she was in on the joke.
Continuing to stroke her back, his hands spanned her body, his thumbs along her spine, and she could swear she felt the heat of his breath, like he’d bent down close to her skin. So hot.
“I tell clients they’re beautiful when I have to.” His thumbs stroked her neck. “I say it when it suits the fantasy.” His lips landed right next to her ear. “But I don’t usually mean it.” His voice vibrated through her in a low, sensual growl.
“So, I’m special?” She fought to keep her tone light, but her raspy breaths caught in her chest.
“You’re certainly different.” He lifted her hair and pressed kisses into the back of her neck.
A sharp stab of desire contracted her pussy. “Different how?”
“Given your fantasy”—he scattered kisses over her back—“I assumed you’d want to be humiliated and hurt. I expected you to be weak.” More kisses. “Most clients with your fantasy only feign disobedience to egg me on to punish them.” His tongue traced figure eights in the small of her back. “You’re not like that at all.”
“No.” The word burst out. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m curious.” His hands, his lips, his tongue moved down to her thighs. “Why hire Fantasies Unleashed? You’re a beautiful, smart, strong woman.” He pressed kisses into her ass cheeks, as his hands spread on her lower back, spanning her entire waist to drive out the last remnants of tension. “You must have plenty of men lining up to fulfill your fantasies.”
“It was a dare,” she said. “My friends say I’m a control freak, and one night when we were really drunk, they found your website and dared me to prove I could give up control.”
“So you didn’t want this?”
“Well—” Her breath came out in a moan as his hands pushed up either side of her torso, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts. “I do admit I was intrigued by the idea. I’ve never had a spontaneous orgasm during sex. Never without telling my lover what to do, at least.”
“Never without keeping total control?” His finger slid through her folds, grazing the beads.
She pressed her ass up. “Yessss.”
He grabbed her raised hips and slipped something soft under her pelvis to support them. “And you’ve never let a man take charge before?”
“I know what I like, and I’m not afraid to say it.” She almost laughed, realizing the now-obvious truth. “I direct my lovers the same way I direct my cast and crew.” His fingers trailed through her welcoming slit and she circled her ass against his light touch, pushing her clit down into the pillow he’d placed under her. “I’ve never had an orgasm I wasn’t fully in charge of.”
“I beg to differ.” His finger slipped between the pillow and her clit and her body convulsed and bucked. She was still so sensitive, so aroused. She couldn’t take even the slightest touch there without going mad.
“Not before today.” Her words burst out on a gasp.
His finger scraped her swollen flesh. Her ears buzzed, her mind blanked, and her pussy cried to be taken again by Jake’s huge cock. She barely cared that she was laying face down, ass tipped up in this virtual stranger’s face.
“That’s too bad.” His fingertip relinquished its superb position, but before she could protest, his breath, his hands, his mouth were hot on her ass, scalding as he pressed wet kisses into her skin. “I’d feel bad if we ended this before you’re sure that you’re cured.”
“Yes.” Her breathing was so ragged, so fast. “Best to be sure.”
“I think I should administer a test.”
A thick finger traced through her sex. Her hips lifted even higher off the table.
“A test?”
“Yes.” His hands traced up her sides again, leaving hot trails in their wake. “You surrendered to pleasure when you couldn’t move. We should see if you can do it unrestrained. See if you can give up control when it hasn’t been physically taken. Are you up for that, Deana?”
His fingers grazed the sides of her breasts, and she moaned as her sensitive nipples slid against the fur. “Yes. Good idea. Best to be sure.” Anything to get his cock inside her again.
“If we’re going to do this…” He stroked and played with her pussy, and her hips swirled, pushing back, greedily wanting more from his fingers. “If it’s going to be a real test, you still can’t tell me what to do. You can’t tell me what you want unless I ask you, agreed?”
“Yes, yes.” Please fuck me. Please ask me if I want to be fucked, because I do. I really do. “Let’s proceed.”
Chapter Five
* * *
“As you wish.” His voice was a low growl against the skin of her ass, and the caressing and teasing continued.
His hands, his tongue, his lips, stroked and probed, until she felt sure spontaneous combustion was more than a myth. But a fiery death would be worth it. Her skin, her muscles, her internal organs burned with the heat and need generated under his skilled hands. He played her like an artist, a sculptor manipulating clay, molding her flesh to his will.
By the time he lifted her to turn her onto her back, she was mush—a trembling, tingling amalgam of jelly for him to maneuver at will. He removed the end of the table again and lifted her legs to his shoulders. Looking into her eyes, he kissed down the insides of her legs, licking and sucking and brushing her skin with his lips and tongue.
Then, finally, he went where she wanted. His lips and tongue nibbled and sucked, and with every lick, every flick, every plunge, her head thrashed, her stomach clenched, her body jumped. She came in a violent explosion, shaking and bucking and pressing her wet pussy into his face.
Shame? Pride? Irrelevant. She was his. All his. His to be taken as he wanted.
When her pulsing subsided, he was still for a moment, then his tongue flicked her clit as his hand pressed into her belly
. She bucked in his strong arms.
“How was that?”
“Fuck me. Please fuck me.” She bit her lips, hoping she hadn’t blown it. “I mean, if you want to.”
A low growl erupted from his chest. He unsnapped her thong, tore it off her, and she heard the beads clatter on the floor. His strong arms flipped her onto her stomach, and then slid her down until her waist hit the end of the padded table.
Fearing she’d crumple onto the floor in a pool of paralytic flesh, she grabbed at the table’s sides, finding rails, but he guided her knees onto soft supports.
An instant later, he was inside her from behind, his hands sliding up her back to her shoulders to pull her body down onto his. He pulled all the way out and then drove into her again, long and hard and deep.
He thrust into her, over and over, reaching places unexplored, making her cry out from the pleasure, the pain of this deeper penetration. Rising up to her elbows to push back, her hands clutched at the fur as he drove into her, varying his rhythm like a master, a master fucker.
Slow then fast, soft then hard, shallow then deep. His hips pumped as his hands explored her back, her neck, grabbed handfuls of her hair and gripped her hips, her shoulders, to force into her more deeply.
Slowing, he moved her hands back to the rails at the sides of the table and encouraged her to stretch back onto her belly. Then the table started to tilt, rising beneath her torso and head. And as her angle changed, he held himself firmly inside her—his breaths hard and jagged, his cock pulsing.
The table tilted until she was just shy of vertical, and the gravity forced her harder, deeper onto his cock. She hadn’t thought deeper was possible.
“Are you okay?” His voice was rough, ragged, rumbling into her neck.
“Yes.”
Apparently the word was all he needed. He pulled back, almost out, and then drove into her, again and again and again. His hips, assisted by his powerful thighs, pumped with more force than the hydraulic lifts at work, pounding and slamming and driving in long hard strokes of deep penetration. His hands worked her hips, banging her down to increase the power of each thrust. The head of his cock unrelentingly hit home, and a strange sound, a high-pitched moan or cry, met each stroke. It was her. She wasn’t a screamer. It couldn’t be her. Yet it was.