Exceeding Boundaries

by Mia Downing

  He made it sound so simple and absolutely stupid on her part. “Not right now.”

  He sighed again. “Then let’s get cozy in front of the fire.”

  ****

  Adam watched Megan stride to the fireplace, blankets in her arms, unease on her face. He crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned back against the sofa. First, he’d terrified her, then he’d riled her further, being an ass about going anal, a dick about her bedroom phobias. It set her on edge, and he wanted to take her to a more peaceful place, one where she wasn’t so damned afraid.

  Her face was so beautiful in the firelight as she bent to arrange things, wanting to please him, that submissive streak rearing its head. She was perfection wrapped in confusion, a confection he wanted to devour, anal sex or not.

  “Come here,” he commanded. He patted his lap. “Sit.”

  She ran her hand over her hair, tugging her ponytail, wanting to resist his command but unable to—he knew she’d give in. Eventually she slapped her hand to her thigh and did as he requested, straddling his legs.

  He cupped her ass, pulling her closer. “There. You haven’t kissed me good morning yet.”

  “Would you like that?” she whispered, touching his jaw, her hand rubbing the stubble he hadn’t shaved. She bit her lip and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, her lips right above her fingers. Her mouth nipped to his lips, warm, inviting. He opened his mouth, and she responded in kind, letting her tongue dip, tangle with his, sliding along the inside of his cheek. She pulled away, breaking the kiss. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” He kissed her again and slid his hands along her back, down to cup her ass, then back up along her spine. “You’re not wearing a bra.” The idea made his cock jump in his jeans.

  “No.”

  “Underwear?” He tugged the waistband of her jeans and slid his hand down the front, his fingers coming in contact with silky lace and hot, damp heat. “Damn.”

  She laughed and wiggled on his lap, the warmth from her crotch branding his erection, even through the denim. “Would you like me to take them off?”

  “No, I’ll do that later.” His hands found her breasts, and he rolled her nipples through the material. Her breathing hitched, and she arched her back, thrusting her flesh into his hands. “I’ll tell you what you can do.”

  “What.”

  “Get your vibrator.”

  She sucked in her breath. “One or both.”

  Jesus. “Both.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “Do you have anything else for toys?”

  “No. Lube.”

  “Bring that.”

  She hesitated, her hands on his chest, so nervous, yet he glimpsed the eagerness that wanted to burst forth.

  “I won’t hurt you. We’ll do only what you like, what you want. I just want to play a little differently.”

  “Okay.” She rose and went to the bedroom, then returned, one pink, one blue vibrator in her hands, the lubricant balanced on top. They were generous in size, and he almost creamed his pants thinking of one of those thrust into her ass, the other in her pussy as she came alone in her bedroom. Now they would come together.

  “Do you use these in your bed?” he asked, unable to shake the image of her pleasuring herself.

  She gave him a sharp look. “I’m not afraid of myself.”

  “You’re afraid of me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then someday, we’ll use them in the bed, too.” He pulled her back onto his lap, relieving her of her toys. He put them on the couch. “Now. Where was I?”

  She went mute on him, and he leaned forward, his lips against her ear. “Tell me what you want me to do, Megan. I can’t please you if you don’t tell me.”

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  He did as she instructed, his mouth eager. He nibbled a path to her throat, nipping a scar he hadn’t noticed before. “What’s this?”

  She stiffened and directed his head downward. “Suck my nipples.”

  He cocked a brow at her. “Through your shirt?”

  “Take it off, smart ass.”

  The shirt came off and he devoured her nipple. She sighed and ran her hands through his hair, tugging just a little when he sucked too hard.

  “I want to fuck you,” he mumbled, thrusting his hips upward, his cock grinding into her jean-clad pussy.

  “I know,” Megan said on a breath, excitement burning through her veins. She wanted him to fuck her, would even let him use a vibrator on her, maybe even in her ass, and he hadn’t even done more than suck her nipples. Didn’t women need more foreplay before they were this hot, panting with need? He was way, way too addictive.

  He pulled the elastic from her hair and it tumbled into his face, a shower of floral scent in her own nostrils. She leaned forward and breathed his sent in, liking the way they mixed together. His fingers laced through the strands and he found her scalp.

  “Unbutton my pants,” he ordered.

  The command was harsh, yet sexy against her ear. Her fingers slid between them and the button popped open. His cock strained under the material and her hand through the denim, insistent. Then his hand found her shoulders and she was on her back, on the floor, and he loomed above her. He unbuttoned her pants and slid them down, over her hips, leaving her panties.

  “These are very pretty,” he said, his breath inches from the scrap of black lace covering her mound. He planted a kiss on her thigh, and she jumped at the warmth, the roughness of his cheek. The heat of his tongue followed the caress, exploring the band long the inner seam, so close, yet so far. “Spread your legs.”

  She started to, but then his tongue darted out and touched her clit though the material. Dampness flooded the lace over her core and her thighs clamped on his head, stopping the torture. He had to smell the musk of her arousal, and the thought made her embarrassed.

  “Spread your legs,” he repeated, firmer this time. The tone was deep, different, and startling her yet exciting her to the core. The need to please him, to turn his voice back to the warm, coaxing one allowed her to let her knees open and fall from his head. “Good girl.”

  He bit the cloth, sucking her wetness through the material. Then his hands found the spaghetti straps at her hips and he ripped, the skimpy material coming free in his hands. Before she could complain, he buried his face between her thighs, his tongue on her clit, his fingers thrusting without prelude into her pussy.

  He didn’t need to go slow—she was soaked. Her wetness dribbled between her ass cheeks, down her thigh, across his lips and cheek. She didn’t know what to do with her hands so she threaded them into his hair, guiding his lips as they left her clit to nibble a path down her other thigh.

  A hand moved between them, and his fingers eased from her pussy, only to be replaced by her soft rubber vibrator, nowhere as warm as his fingers. He turned it on with a practiced flick and returned his tongue to her clit, alternating between licking and sucking. The vibrator hummed inside her channel, and she clenched her muscles around it, experimenting. It didn’t have Adam’s appeal. “I like your cock better.”

  “Even here?” The other lube-coated vibrator slid along her ass, the tip dipping into her puckered hole. Oh, how sweet it felt.

  “I don’t know.” She arched her back and relaxed the muscles in her anus, knowing what it took to sink the toy deeper. He was tentative at first, going easy, and she realized he didn’t understand the depth her play had taken in the past. “Sink it home. You won’t hurt me.”

  He glanced at her, meeting her gaze, and did as she asked. She arched her back when the toy was fully seated inside her, and he turned it on. She felt so full, with both toys humming, occupying every inch of her pelvis. He returned his attentions to her clit, his hand manipulating the vibrator in her pussy. It was bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. The pressure of an impending orgasm rose, but she ignored it, knowing he was right in the kitchen earlier. She wanted him in her ass. Needed it today, if she wanted to come.

  “Adam.”
>
  He stopped and rose over her, propping himself on one elbow, his breathing labored. “Yes?”

  “You win. I want it.”

  “Want what?” Damn his sexy grin and the ego behind it. “Tell me.”

  “Fuck me.”

  “Where? I have many options today.” He rose and shucked his jeans and underwear. Magnificent in his nakedness, he returned to her side.

  Would he think differently of her if she said it? She tested the waters. “My ass.” If anything, the lust in his eyes heightened.

  He kissed her quickly, his tongue tasting of her musk. “On your knees.”

  She did as she was told, lowering herself to her elbows, too horny to care how exposed she was to him. The vibrator in her ass turned off, slid out, and then he gripped her hips with his hand. His condom-covered cock, cold with lube, bumped her eager, puckered hole. The vibrator in her pussy still hummed, and he pushed gently, just the head sliding in.

  He wasn’t much bigger than her vibrator, but warmer, softer yet harder in all the right ways. She pushed back against him, relaxing the muscles. He slid further, inching in deeper as her muscles stretched, welcoming him.

  Then he stilled, his breathing ragged against her back, his lips on her spine. “I can feel the vibrator on my cock,” he said against her back. “I can’t hold on much longer. Your ass is heaven.”

  “Then come,” she invited, rocking back to inch him deeper. His cock twitched, and she bit her lip, clenching her pussy around the plastic stretching her there. If he only knew how close she was, and he hadn’t even thrust into her fully.

  “Oh, no. I’m not coming without you.” He rose and a hand slapped her ass. “I’ll be exhausted, and you’ll be needy when all I want to do is rest.” His hand stole around to her pussy, and he fingered her clit. “Maybe you need this.”

  Yes. She moaned. He pulled out a little from her ass and thrust in, gently, his balls lightly tapping the vibrator in her pussy.

  “Moan for me again.”

  How did one moan on command? She opened her mouth to retort, and he thrust again, harder this time. She did moan, all on her own, and he rewarded her by pinching her clit.

  “Please,” she begged. She didn’t know how much more she could take. “Fuck me harder.”

  He pumped, and she dropped lower to the ground on her chest, her ass higher in the air, the angle exquisite. The pleasure of each stroke mingled with a burn that drove her higher, his fingers biting into her hips. She pinched her nipple and climbed higher, higher, until fire knifed through her and she came, her pussy clenching down on the vibrator, wishing he had two cocks to fill both holes, her juices flooding the toy, dripping down her thigh.

  “Megan,” he groaned and thrust completely into her, his cock twitching. He pumped twice more and stilled, his stubbled cheek resting on her back, his lips kissing her skin along her shoulder. He shifted to turn off the vibrator in her pussy and pulled it out. Then he sank down next to her, pulling her around to spoon against him, his cock still inside her. A blanket covered her, them, and he nestled his face against her neck.

  “Jesus, woman, you’ll kill me one of these days.”

  “Did I do okay?”

  He ran a hand over her breasts and palmed her nipple, tweaking the peak. And be damned if her pussy didn’t pulse in response. He kissed her neck. “You were perfect.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her neck again. “So let’s go cuddle on the bed.”

  She went from languid to tense in two seconds flat. Adam had expected as much, but he held firm in his resolve to get her over this bed phobia. He eased his still-twitching cock from her ass and stood, dragging her up, against his chest. “Let’s go.”

  “Adam.”

  He cocked a brow. “What?”

  She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “Why do you do these things to me?”

  “Because I’m a jerk.” He slapped her ass. “Go get in the bed. I’ll get you a washcloth to clean up with.”

  He watched her go and followed, ducking right into her bathroom to quickly clean up. He warmed a washcloth under the tap and found a towel, then approached the bed. She stared at him from the middle of it, the blankets pulled to her nose, her eyes wide.

  “Silly, I can’t wash you if you’re bundled.” He tugged the sheets and pulled them away, exposing her soft, sweet flesh. The washcloth in his hand, he slipped his hands between her clamped knees. “Open for me.”

  She did as he commanded, and he cleaned her gently, then rubbed her skin dry. He tossed the towel and cloth into the bathroom—they fell short by a few feet—and patted her thigh. “Move over, bed hog.”

  She slid over, her eyes still on him, haunted.

  “I’m not going to eat you.” He lay on his side and adjusted the covers, hating that he had to torture her this way. But if he didn’t make her do it, she never would. She had to trust him. “I did that already.”

  A ghost of a smile formed on her perfect lips.

  “Come cuddle me. I want to rest a bit before you make me a snack, and then cook me a roast.”

  “How?”

  “How do you cook the roast? Sweetheart, you’re asking the wrong person.”

  “How do you want me to cuddle you?”

  He adjusted the pillows behind his head and rolled, then he patted his chest. “Put your head here. You can tell me if I have a heartbeat.”

  Her cheek was soft, gentle on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and closed his eyes on the feelings that bubbled up—possessiveness laced with protectiveness. Definitely desire. His cock wasn’t budging, but that didn’t stop the attraction from inching across his skin. “There,” he murmured. “Am I so scary?”

  “No,” she whispered, her breath soft on his skin.

  “Good. Then sleep.”

  Chapter Six

  Megan didn’t realize she had dozed off until she woke with a start, panic in her throat at the heavy hand on her shoulder. Sunlight streamed through the window and the clock said two. Then she remembered, images of their torrid play etched in her mind, and she drew in a calming breath. Adam. He’d done this to her. She slipped out from under his arm and rolled to her hip to study him.

  Adam was sound asleep on her pillow, his dark lashes perfect against his cheek. How different he was sleeping. He was usually charged with energy, the air around him vibrant even when he was still.

  Now Adam was still, only his bare chest lifting and rising, his lips gently parted. His fingers were splayed out on his stomach, and she studied them, taking in their length, the span of them, the width of his palm over the ripple of his abdomen. He had to work out—she had no clue when, given his schedule—but a man didn’t get a body like his from sitting behind the desk.

  “Like what you see?”

  She jumped and his hand rose to brush the hair from her cheek. When had he awoken? “You already know you’re handsome.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to be told it again.” He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. “And again.” His lips touched her fingertips and then he sucked in a digit. “And again.”

  “Stop.” She smacked his chest. “Honestly. You can’t be horny again.”

  “Want to check?”

  She smacked him again and he winced.

  “I want cake,” he grumbled.

  “Now?” The bed creaked as he left it, his glorious ass naked as he went to her bathroom. He shut the door and returned a few moments later. “You want cake now.”

  “Well, yeah. I deserve the calories. I worked hard this morning.” He cocked his head at her. “You can have a small piece. I don’t think you worked as hard.”

  She tossed a pillow at his head, and he caught it easily. He held out a hand. “Let’s go eat cake.”

  They ate cake, and then she cooked for him as he showered and dressed again. A dressed Adam wasn’t as fun to look at, she discovered later as he sat on her couch while the roast cooked, his fingers laced in hers, a college basketbal
l game on the TV. He would pause to look at her now and then, his face so boyish at times, so at ease, so different from work.

  A commercial came on, and he kissed the back of her hand. “I’m going to take off after dinner. I want you to know that now.”

  “Okay.”

  “I want to see my mother, and I have notes to look over for the Smith case. It goes to trial Tuesday.” The mention of work made her stiffen. “What?”

  “Work.”

  “Yeah?”

  “How do we handle work?”

  He frowned at her, not understanding. “We go there, we do what we have to do to make a living, and then we come home and have hot sex.”

  “But there’s eight hours to fill.” How could she go to work and pretend those lips had never explored hers, his fingers hadn’t slipped inside of her pussy, his cock in her ass?

  “We could have sex at lunch, on my desk, but my secretary wouldn’t like that.”

  Sex with him was always exciting, but she couldn’t bear anyone knowing. “I don’t want her to know.”

  “Okay.” Adam shrugged. “I warn you, though, she’s a gossip. She’ll find out eventually.”

  Panic surfaced. Megan couldn’t face the whole world knowing what she did with him all weekend, not if he was going to leave her before the month’s end. She couldn’t deal with that. “I don’t want anyone to know. I told you, no commitment.”

  “Sweetheart, it can be however you like. If you want me to ignore you, I will, but it’s not who I am.”

  “It’s who I want you to be.” No, it was who he had to be—she wanted him to act like the player he was. She didn’t want to jump ship and deploy the parachute, but she didn’t see a way out without him devastating her heart. She liked him more than she ever expected. But now he was talking about hot sex after work? How long would he tantalize her before he cast her aside?

  He frowned and nodded. “We’ll be discreet if that’s what you want. We’ll text and meet for hot sex in hotels around town. Shady and high end. How’s that for discreet?”

  She heaved a breath, relieved, smiling at his weak joke. Maybe she would survive this seduction, after all.