Who the hell was I kidding? Things can never just be PG between us.
I lift the bottom of her sweater and whip it off over her head.
Exposing her perfect, beautiful body and nipples so hard I have to have them in my mouth this fucking second.
I suckle her left nipple into my mouth even as my hand traces the same curves I caressed earlier. Down her hip to her outer thigh, but this time I massage around to her ass. So plump and round in my hand. It reminds me of how this sweet little ass peeked out at me every time she bent over to throw the ball.
I give a quick swat but that only makes her thrust her groin against mine again, seeking friction. It’s a good move because there’s certainly friction to be found, I’m so hard in my pants, I’m like a heat-seeking missile, solid and pointed straight towards her warm, slick pussy.
I know she’s slick because after I squeeze her luscious ass, I tease a finger between her thighs and she’s absolutely drenched for me. Dripping down her leg, even.
All I want is to open my pants and thrust inside her. To impale her against the wall and fill her with my cum. To mark her from the inside out as mine.
My cock pulses against her with the need. It would be so easy…and she wants it, if her whimpering, hip thrusting, and little breathy pleas are any indication.
But there’s so much she doesn’t— Can I really, when she still doesn’t even know—
Frustration bubbles over at my own indecision until I bark, “Down on your hands and knees.”
She pauses, definitely seeming startled by my sudden u-turn, but she’s a quick study because as soon as I let go of her wrists, she bends to the floor and takes position, so beautifully obedient, her peach-shaped ass upturned towards me.
I’ll reward her so good. So, so good.
I immediately get down on the floor behind her. “You’re doing so well. You handle everything I throw at you. You’re beautiful. Fucking perfect.”
I brace one hand beside hers as I bend over her and bow my forehead to her spine, between her shoulder blades and trace my other hand over her plump breasts and down her stomach to the heated heaven between her legs.
I lift my head just enough to whisper in her ear, “Do you want to feel me?” I nudge my still-clothed cock against her sweet ass. “The real me?”
“Yes,” she all but chokes out. “Please, oh, please. I want to feel you.”
There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in that answer so I reach down and give us both what we’ve been wanting.
I release myself from my pants and my long, hard cock finally gets to meet her sweet flesh. I play with her pussy as I press my length between her ass cheeks.
She arches her back, thrusting her ass back up against me. “Gods, you feel amazing,” she breathes out. “Please. Put it inside me. I want it.”
My cock pulses again, so close to her dripping pussy. But I am in control here and have already decided how this will go down…even if it was a deviation from my original plan. Like she does with everything, Daphne screws with my equilibrium in a way like no one else before her.
But in this, at least, I’m holding on to the last scraps of my sanity, and mainly because her naked body is beneath me and my fat cock is stretched between the most gorgeous ass cheeks on the gods’ green earth. Never have I felt more like master and commander of my own destiny and also on the edge of completely losing my entire self—will, soul, and mind—to the tiny woman beneath me.
Paradox. That’s her.
But she’s my fucking paradox to tame, like trapping a whirlwind.
I smack at her pussy lightly. “Remember who your master is,” I chide lightly, before slipping first one finger and then a second inside her, stretching her, at the same time strumming her clit with my thumb.
That silences her, apart from a series of pleasured moans and squeaks. I finally give in to my own desires and thrust myself up and down the natural channel made by her round ass cheeks.
So fucking beautiful. So fucking hot.
I need more. I need so much more. This is torture, knowing her pussy is so close. But sadism comes with the territory when you’ve been made a monster, so it’s nothing new. And even the barest touch of her soft, perfect skin… She bucks so enthusiastically back against me as I rile her up, closer and closer towards her own orgasm.
Her pitches rise in pitch.
“That’s right. That’s right. Ride my hand. I’m fucking your ass cheeks and it’s so damn hot. You have ass cheeks any man would fucking die for.”
Her cries reach a scream as my words take her over the edge. I lie on top of her so that my cock is sandwiched between our bodies and I fuck her ass cheeks even more fervently. I curve my fingers back in a come-hither gesture, teasing at her g-spot even as my thumb keeps at her clit.
She thrusts back into me like a bucking bronco, a wild animal in the height of her pleasure. I jack my hips forward as my spine lights up, my balls tighten, and—
I cum so fucking hard that I own the entire fucking universe, everything I ever, ever fucking wanted complete in this moment, clutching this beautiful woman to my body and sharing the apex of pleasure with her.
But even as the world blinks back in, I know—this is only the beginning. If it felt that good to cum outside her, what would it be like to be face to face, that pussy that’s clenching like a vice around my fingers sucking the cum from my cock, her lips on my lips, looking into her eyes as we draw the pleasure from each other and share it—
But would we really be sharing it if she doesn’t even know the real me?
Can it ever be anything more than a mirage, like the mask I wear?
I bow my forehead to her spine again, not willing to lose this moment just yet. If I clutch her to me tight enough, she’ll never leave, right?
I release her right then.
Because that’s not a man’s logic, it’s a boy’s. The point of all of this was to make her crave me and be unable to live without me.
So why do I feel like she’s the one who’s mastering me instead?
Twenty
Daphne
I blink my eyes lazily awake. I’m still in the Beast’s arms. He’s running his fingers through my hair. I lick my lips. I couldn’t have been asleep more than half an hour.
We have a habit of falling asleep like this for naps in the afternoon. In front of the fire, me curled into his big, warm body. Usually after some sort of festivity that leaves me naked, and him still clothed, like always. But both of us well-sated.
I don’t move even though I’m awake, wanting to hold onto the moment for a little while longer. Today over lunch, he stripped me and set me on the table, feasting on me instead of lunch before our afternoon nap. Gods, he makes my body absolutely electric, and after I cum, I turn into a limp rag, liquid in his arms, and become quickly sleepy. I’d always heard it was guys who fall asleep after sex but I swear I’ve never found a more effective sleep aid.
The last few days have been…indescribable. When I’m with him, everything else disappears. Our ‘date’ last night was so sweet, him teaching me how to bowl. Then it turned so hot, feeling him skin to skin against me.
I’ve never in my whole life let go like this. Taken a time out from the world and…and…done, well, anything like this. I mean, I never even took vacation days! And now to hide up here like at a spa—the Beast certainly likes giving me hot baths often enough—and to experience so much pleasure…
My cheeks spike with heat just thinking about all the things we’ve done together. Which reminds me of the one big thing we haven’t done.
I’m still a virgin.
He holds back. For some reason I can’t understand and he won’t explain. Then again, he’s not big on explanations, is he?
Whenever I do stop and think about it, I start freaking out a little—he seems to know everything about me, but what do I know about him? I want to know everything. I want to understand. I want to feel like he’s in this as deep as I am.
But ho
w long can I continue investing myself…investing my heart, without answers? We’re becoming so close. Surely it’s time. I just want to understand.
And he’s in a good mood. He’s cum. I’ve cum.
It’s now or never.
“We’ve never talked about what I found in the basement that day.”
He jerks back, his eyes flashing a warning, but I forge on. “What are you doing down there? Why are you working on Battleman’s? Why did you really buy the patents from my father?”
His nostrils flare. He pushes me off his lap. “On your knees.”
He’s so frustrating! “Why can’t you just be honest with me? Haven’t I earned that? I’ve given you everything. Trusted you with everything. My body. My spirit.” I pound my chest with my fist. “With my soul.”
“On. Your. Knees.” He points a meaty finger towards the floor.
I drop to my knees in front of him, but I don’t bow my head. I stare up at him defiantly.
“What will it take?” I shake my head, beseeching as a terrible thought strikes me. “Or was it never about that? It doesn’t matter how much I change or open up? You never meant to do the same. To bend for me or meet me in the middle.”
I choke out the next words. “You only ever meant to break me and then leave me that way.”
He lets out a roar that echoes off the stone walls. “No! Never!”
And then, to my shock, he pushes the chair back and drops down to his knees, right in front of me and his hands are on my face and his lips are on my lips. They aren’t gentle. They aren’t kind.
His lips crush mine. Begging. Punishing.
For once, for once, my hands aren’t tied down. And I want to tear off that fucking mask he uses to keep as the last barrier between us. I want to, so badly.
But I’ve just been telling him he can trust me. So I won’t prove otherwise the first chance I get. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck, so close to the elastic tie of his mask but not touching it. His breath catches. Does he realize? Does he finally realize all I have given and would give for him?
His hands are on my wrists the next second like always, though, clasping them both in his huge grip. In one swift motion, he flips us so that I’m on my back on the sumptuous rug, the fire burning bright and warm beside us.
My naked nipples pebble in the chill air even as the warmth from the flames dances over my skin. My back arches into his touch as he runs a hand down between the valley of my breasts and my sex clenches in anticipation.
“Let me see you,” I gasp, wriggling to get free of his grasp. Because while he let me feel him yesterday, he was zipped up before I could even look over my shoulder at him. He never lets me see anything, know anything about him. And I can’t stand it anymore. I need something from him. I need him to give an inch even if I really want a mile.
A rumbling growl of dissent starts in his throat but I shake my head. “Just your clothes, I mean. I want to see you.” What he’ll let me see, anyway. But I’m starting to hope this is a process, in spite of what I said a few minutes ago. Maybe because I’m just fooling myself?
Or maybe because I hope, in spite of himself, he has bent for me. I’m not sure what he intended when he first brought me here, but from the vulnerability I now glimpse in his eyes, I suspect this isn’t it.
He’s been so tender and caring. And commanding and dominant. Obviously, there’s been plenty of that, too.
But even now as he hovers over me, my hands held solidly in place, his strong thigh between mine in a way that drives me crazy, I’ve never felt more free. He’s introduced me to myself these past days. I was only living half a life and I couldn’t even see it. It was a rude awakening, that was for damn sure, but would I go back to being asleep?
Especially when being awake means I get to be with him?
No. Not for anything in the world.
“I want to see you,” I say more quietly, even as I wriggle against his thigh.
He cracks a small smile. “You want to see my body?”
“Gods, yes.” It’s all but a groan as he tweaks my raw right nipple, and then the left. They’re still so tender but the memory of earlier and the brief twinge of pain has my sex lighting right back up again.
He arches an eyebrow. “Only good girls get treats. Can you leave your hands where they are? One twitch and this little experiment ends.”
I nod fervently. “I promise. I won’t move an inch.”
He caresses a hand down and teases between the lips of my sex, and then he circles my clit with his glistening fingertip. I arch so violently at the first spike of pleasure. He immediately pulls his hand away and waves his finger in my face. “Ah ah ah, don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
I can smell my own scent on his hand, and even after all we’ve done together, I still feel my cheeks burn hot. But I immediately drop back down to the rug and lift my hands back over my head. I look him in the eye. “I won’t touch you. I give you my word.”
A small furrow appears between his eyebrows and he hesitates another second, but then he pulls off his suit jacket and his hands move back to his collar. He begins to deftly undo the buttons of his crisp white shirt.
I can’t help licking my lips. Finally, after all this time I’ll get to see what’s beneath the hyper-polished facade. Surely his muscles won’t actually be as big as I’ve imagined them, not in real life. Back in the beginning I hoped he was wearing some sort of padding underneath the suit so he’d appear larger than he actually was.
But as he slowly peels off his shirt, and then grabs the back of his undershirt and yanks it off over his head—holy shit.
The man is a Greek god.
He’s a statue made flesh.
How— Just how? How is this god-man a recluse who lives out in the middle of nowhere? Where are all the sycophants who belong on their knees at his feet? Yes, I suspect his face is injured somehow, he’s obviously endured some sort of terrible tragedy, but still—
“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper. And I want to break my promise so badly. I want to reach out and touch his huge, muscled chest. I want to press my hand over his heart. I want to kiss down his torso and— My eyes travel the line of hair from his belly button into his pants.
He’s watching my every reaction and his six-pack flexes in response to my shameless gaze. My calves flex and my toes point in anticipated pleasure.
“More,” I whisper, then swallow. When did my throat suddenly get so dry? “Please, I want to finally see what a man looks like. What you look like.”
Is it just my imagination or are his hands shaking the smallest bit as he drops them to the button of his bulging pants?
I bite down on my bottom lip as he unzips. I swear a zipper has never moved so slowly before in the history of all zippers. I gasp as he finally reveals himself.
He’s gigantic down there just like he is everywhere else. I swallow and look away before almost immediately glancing back.
“Look your fill,” he says in a low, masculine rumble. “Look, but remember, don’t touch.”
I nod rapidly and blink. The more I look, the more it seems to grow, even though I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. I’m rapt as he leans up and tugs his pants down the rest of the way and then kicks them off, along with his socks.
Okay, now the whole god look is complete. He looks as amazing and perfectly muscled as any statuary in the most world-class museums.
“You’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”
I only notice his scowl when he snaps, “No more talking.”
I look back up at his face. There are a hundred questions on the tip of my tongue. Why is he like this? Why does he hide his face behind a mask? Doesn’t he understand that there’s more to life than looks? Yes, I certainly appreciate his beautiful body, but I’ve become fascinated by him in spite of his scary hulking size and the mask he hides himself behind. We’ve connected in ways I never knew were possible and I’ve never even seen his face. Doesn’t that tell h
im everything he needs to know?
“One last question?” I chance.
He glowers at me but I risk it. “Will you show me how you touch it?”
This question at least doesn’t seem to anger him, though. And I can’t help licking my lips again as his huge, powerful hand grasps the base of the large, veined shaft and strokes it roughly up and down.
“Doesn’t that hurt it?” I gasp.
He shakes his head. “So innocent. Didn’t you ever watch videos? Online? Or look at pictures at least?”
I suck in a quick breath as I continue to watch him stroking himself. His eyes are locked on me. His inspiration seems to come from watching my reaction to him.
“I always kept SafeSearch on,” I whisper breathlessly.
“Of course you did,” he murmurs. “My little virgin. But you like looking at my cock, don’t you. You can barely take your eyes off it.”
I look up from his pulsing member to meet his eyes. “I think I was waiting for you even though I didn’t know it.”
He groans and lets go of himself, reaching for me in the same moment and crushing his lips to mine. “Good answer,” he growls between punishing, demanding kisses. If I’m not careful, he’ll swallow me whole.
And I just might let him.
He’s back over top of me, but finally it’s not the rasp of smooth, Italian fabric against my skin. It’s him. Hot skin against skin.
He might not let me touch him with my hands, but so much of the rest of us is touching. And I can feel him there against my thigh, hot, hard, and pulsing. His cock. A pulse of heat clenches in my stomach and then shoots down between my legs. I bite down on his tongue in my mouth, I can’t help it.
But that seems to drive him even crazier. One of his hands tangles in my hair and the other slides down my waist and then around to my ass, first cupping, then squeezing, then slapping my ass. My hands are still above my head and I writhe in his arms.
“Harder,” I gasp out my dirtiest desires because he is my safe place. Nothing is off limit, nothing is wrong here. While I can’t use my hands, at the same time, I’m unleashed.
Billionaire’s Captive: A Beauty and the Rose Box Set Page 12