by Keri Lake
Yet, in seconds, I’m panting against his hand, struggling to keep upright, as the wet sounds betray my resistance. A slap in my mother’s face, as my body shivers with each new thrust.
“Listen to that. All your morals falling down. Fucking music to my ears.” There’s an edge of excitement to his words, a shaky quality in his voice, as he ups the pace, breathing hard against my throat, like he’s the one getting off. “Don’t you come, Star Wars. You wouldn’t want to lose the bet.”
I moan again, my whole body warring against itself, as he strings me along toward climax.
With every plunge, there’s an awareness that I have no chance of winning this, as the stopper becomes increasingly slick from my juices.
“I’m going to fuck you after this. Because I can’t stand the thought of not being inside you for one more minute. I’m going to fuck you hard, Nola. And something tells me you’ll like it,” he says through clenched teeth.
Another ripple of ecstasy winds down my spine, and as I slide against the wall, he presses into me, urging me back up.
“No, no. Not until you come.” He tugs the stopper out of me and sucks it clean, before reinserting it. “You taste so good.” His voice is more ragged, before his tongue curls around my nipple.
I arch, crying out, as he sucks and flicks and bites, moaning against my flesh.
Every part of me begs to reject such an arrogant assumption that I’d enjoy rough sex with him, but I can’t. Not after he’s already proven me wrong.
Gripping his arm for support, I feel the ball of muscle beneath his skin, the tension running thick through him, telling me he has no intentions of giving in.
I’m deliriously close to climax, so much so, I feel drunk, and when he plunges one last time, my whole body squirms and shudders as a rush of tingles explodes through my muscles. All I can do is mewl against his palm like a trapped little kitten who’s fallen prey to the lion.
“That’s it, baby. That’s what I want to hear.”
When my gaze shifts to his, there’s a knowing smile on his face, but without all the smugness. He looks pleased. And for reasons I can’t wrap my head around in the moment, I like that. We stare at each other, only the sound of our stuttering breaths filling the quiet between us. I watch the way the muscles in his biceps and chest flex and tighten while he finishes me. Ruins me in ways I wasn’t anticipating. How his chest rises and falls quickly with panting breaths that match my own. As if the two of us are completely in sync.
His eyes are hard and concentrated, a thunderstorm that I want to sweep me away. He leans forward, kissing me as he pushes the stopper in and leaves it there. “Get on the bed. Now.”
I do as he says, awkwardly hobbling along as the evidence of my arousal trickles down my thighs and the stopper reminds me of why. Midway onto the bed, I turn to see him staring at me in the mirror’s reflection. Ass propped, I can see everything—including the glistening bare skin with the wine stopper sticking out of me that betrays every morally questionable thought I’ve had so far.
Voss moans, and I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye.
He strokes himself with eyes rapt on me, giving me the perfect view of his fully erect cock sticking up from his muscled thighs. “Beautiful, isn’t it? How can a man not want to fuck that?”
Shrinking into myself, I study the width of the mirror’s reflection and there’s no hiding from it. “I can’t do this. Not if I have to watch myself the whole time.”
“What’s wrong with watching yourself?”
“It’s just … weird.”
“Out of your comfort zone.”
“Way out. Like … across the galaxy.”
“Well, that’s the point, Star Wars.” He yanks my legs, and my body slides across the mattress until my ass slams into his thighs. “Hands behind your back.”
Knees still weak and muscles warm with fresh climax, I do as he says, and when I hear the tearing of foil, I know this thing between us has only just begun. Lifting my head off the bed, I watch the reflection of him rolling a condom down his shaft.
In the next breath, he buries his face in my ass, and I jerk forward to get away. My God, the idea of his face there is mortifying. My stomach curls with embarrassment as he holds me still, his fingers digging into my hips as he licks my most forbidden place.
“Voss! Wait … please.”
He doesn’t stop, and in spite of the shame, I roll my head against the mattress, while his tongue sweeps over my hole and down to the stopper. Teeth gripping the edges, he removes the object, spitting it out onto the bed beside me, and sucks at my over-sensitive flesh with the fervor of a man who’s been denied water too long. In the mirror, I’m propped face down, with my hands bound behind my back, watching him stroke his cock as he essentially eats me out. I clamp my eyes to shield out the visual that, admittedly, is the most darkly erotic thing I’ve even seen. It tickles my belly and sends of rush of blood to my core. I bury my face in the mattress, mouth gaping, moaning, desperate for air and mercy, while his tongue wets my swollen folds, his lips kissing and sucking away my useless protests. The guttural rumble of contentment in his throat reminds me of an animal relishing its recent kill.
Carnal and unbecoming.
If my mother saw me now, she’d have a second heart attack, I’m sure of it.
“Don’t move,” he says, and moves toward the whirlpool tub. The water flips on, and I turn toward him, catching sight of his perfect muscled ass as he bends forward, running his hand through the spray and splashing the water onto his face.
I want to say this afternoon with Voss is something I’ll never do again as long as I live, and that I should enjoy it while it lasts, but I know that’s not true. I’ve learned a few things about myself in the last half hour.
First, a wine stopper really does feel incredible, even if it’s wrong.
And second, I am hopelessly attracted to this man’s unapologetic approach to sex. It’s evident, the way I haven’t moved since he walked away—my arms still bound behind my back, my cheek still flat against the mattress, ass high in the air—that I enjoy his command. His roughness. That I yearn for more of it.
When he turns around to face me again, there’s a dark and hungry gleam in his eyes, and I have no doubt this man would eat me alive. Without a word, he slides his hands beneath me and lifts me up into his arms like I weigh nothing.
He sets me down on wobbly legs, and I let him strip away my skirt, then the shirt, like he’s systematically peeling away layers of my resistance, until I’m standing completely naked in front of him and yet another mirror above the tub.
It’s instinct that draws my hand over my mound, shielding it from his prying eyes, because there’s no way in hell I’d have let Denny look at me the way Voss is right now. In fact, I insisted on the lights being turned off during sex.
He pushes my hands away, making a deep masculine sound of appreciation in his chest, and steps into the tub first, flicking his fingers for me to follow. Somehow, he looks bigger in the tub, his body even more imposing than before.
My skin practically sizzles, as I toe the water and step down, letting him draw me onto his lap. Back to his chest, I straddle his legs, as his palm presses against my inner thigh, spreading me open.
Two fingers dip inside me, damn near splitting me in half, and he kisses my shoulder. “’Fraid I’m more than two fingers, Star Wars.”
Hands to my hips, he guides me onto his fully erect cock, and I have to brace myself when his tip breaches my entrance, far bigger than any other man I’ve been with.
“I wish I could say I’ll be gentle, but you’ve got me wound so fucking tight right now, I need to get inside you.”
Pressing at either side of me, he eases me down, allowing me to stretch around him with tiny thrusts. Inch by inch, he seats himself deeper, tunneling his cock a little more each time. One quick shunt, and I hear him groan behind me, while I remain on my knees, submerged up to my breasts in the water, and back arched,
I claw the edge of the tub, letting my body acclimate to the pain of his girth.
“Watching you come with that stopper is the hottest thing I’ve seen. I need more, but it’s my cock that’s going to make you shatter like that.” He gives another upward thrust and growls in my ear.
“Voss!” I arch further, taking in the fullness of him, while he sits motionless for a moment.
Arms wrap around me, urging me back against him, and he circles his hips, slowly stirring his dick inside of me.
With lazy pumps in and out of me, he pinches my nipples that only just stick up out of the water. “I’m going to take my time with you. The wait is fucking torture, but it’s worth it. Tonight is all about you.”
“Wait for what?” I curl my fingers and bite my lip, as he drives into me at a maddening deliberate pace.
He doesn’t answer, and it doesn’t matter, because somehow, somehow, he’s coaxing my body into arousal again.
I wouldn’t think it possible so soon after climax, but the tightening of my belly, the ache tugging deep inside of me, the hungry monster so starved for this kind of attention it’s become insatiable, has awakened once again. Masculine sounds of pleasure vibrate over my skin, as he tugs and toys with my nipples, while his cock stretches and fills me. Powerful, controlled, rocking into me like billowing waves that could easily break into riptides, dragging me under the surface.
For the next hour and a half, he fucks me this way, in the tub, on the bed, keeping me on the edge of climax, until I’m drenched in sweat and every muscle is trembling and fragile.
The man is relentless. His body glistens with all of his toil, but he keeps on like there’s some electrical source feeding his cock. I’ve never known a man to go so long in my life.
I’ve already climaxed twice while trying to hold out for him. My body is so worn down, my muscles so weak and soft, all I can do is roll my head, as I writhe with his continued assault.
Caged below him, I stare into his eyes, those beautifully unforgiving gray eyes, and reach up to touch his face. “Wait. Please. I need to stop.” The hoarse drag of my voice begs for a single drop of water.
Voss finally collapses onto the bed beside me, and removes the flaccid and empty condom from his shaft.
“You didn’t …” I can’t even say it, the shame of having climaxed twice already heating my cheeks. “How can you … go so long?”
“Not easily with you, I’ll admit.”
“You’re saying that was intentional?”
“Today was about you, Nola. Not me.” He reaches for the two bottles of water set out on the nightstand and tosses me one.
Cracking the lid, I tip it back, guzzling the ice-cold fluids that damn near sizzle when I swallow, while my mind spins an endless web of questions. Did I do something wrong? Is he turned off? Perhaps thinking of someone else? Wishing of someone else?
“Am I …” A bad lay? Even Denny came relatively quickly, and that was toward the end when we hated each other.
After one long swig, Voss sets his half-drank water bottle back on the nightstand. “Are you what?”
“I mean … I know I’m a little inexperienced, and all …” I close the cap, running my finger over the top to keep from having to look at him, where he sits sprawled beside me, the embodiment of masculinity. “I’ve not been with many …”
“You’re perfect. Don’t question anything about yourself.”
“You say that, but that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Weakly pushing up from the bed, all I want to do leave and not have to look into those eyes of his again, but the moment I slide from the mattress, I’m yanked back.
Hard.
The mortification ruptures inside of me, and his ridiculous little affirmations are just a slap in the face. “Let me go, Voss.”
“Not a chance.” Amusement colors his voice, only adding to my frustration, as I muster what little energy is left in me to wriggle away from him, so I can go hide in the bathroom and chide myself for being an idiot. “You’re upset about what, exactly? That I didn’t want it to be over in a matter of minutes? That I chose to draw it out for as long as I could and savor you?”
“I … um.” Feel kind of silly. I didn’t think of it that way.
“The pain of anticipation heightens the ecstasy of release. I’ve built up a lot of stamina, waiting for a woman like you to come along who can take it.”
“That’s very poetic, Voss. But I don’t believe a word of that.”
“Whether you believe it, or not, it’s true. I could go all night with you, Nola.” His still hard cock nudging my ass is a reminder that sends an ache up into my womb. Had I done something wrong, or turned him off, I doubt he’d have kept that monster erect the whole time. “I’d never tire of you.” Arm banded across my stomach, he pulls me tighter. “You’re the best kind of torture.”
“I guess I just feel kind of … greedy.”
“You should feel greedy. You deserve to be greedy. How many assholes would’ve felt bad for busting a nut inside of you first and calling it a night?”
Too many, unfortunately. I doubt any guy I’ve been with ever bothered to put much thought into my enjoyment.
“Be greedy. Be tenacious with the things that make you feel good. And for fucks sake, don’t ever apologize for it.”
I want to believe that Voss is everything I’ve made him up to be in my head—this ridiculously hot alpha who is all about pleasing his female at the expense of his own gratification.
I’m inclined to think he follows his own advice, though, pursuing what he wants unapologetically, so his words don’t exactly add up in my head. But regardless, he’s right. No man I’ve ever been with felt bad for using me, so why the hell should I? Particularly if this one is giving me permission to take from him.
And I did. A couple times. It felt pretty damn amazing, too.
Scooting back onto the bed beside him, I curl up into his massive body, wrapping my leg over his hip, where his rock hard erection still sticks up between us. Jesus, the guy must be in agony right now. “I could try to get you off, if you wanted.”
Palm gripping my thigh, he lifts my leg higher so his tip sits at my entrance. Maybe he’s a masochist, or something. “It’s okay. You’re tired. Get some rest.”
He’s right. Having gotten up early to prepare for this show, carting all that pottery around, followed by hours of sex, has softened my bones and left me useless. My whole body feels like it’s been pummeled, but I can’t deny that I didn’t enjoy every minute, even the parts that made me a little uncomfortable at first.
“I can’t really bear to think of someone using that wine stopper again,” I say. “We’re just going to toss it, right?”
A chuckle rumbles in his chest. “I had the bellhop pick it up from the gift shop downstairs. It’s yours to keep. As a souvenir.”
I laugh at that and snuggle into him. “Thank you for this,” I whisper, more appreciatively than before.
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For being a decent guy.” I yawn and stretch against him, letting his warm body lull me into the afternoon snooze that’s calling to me. “Feels like everyone’s a psychopath these days.”
23
Voss
A text pops up on my screen, lighting up the dark room as I lay beside Nola. It’s only six in the evening, but with the curtains drawn, it feels like the dead of night.
The text is from the company I hired to install cameras on Nola’s property, letting me know the project is complete. Every room now has a small, concealed camera that feeds to the app on my phone.
Had Nola gone home three hours ago, she’d have caught them doing the work, and I’d have had to explain shit I wasn’t ready to explain yet. To test it, I click on the app, scrolling through the different cameras, until I land on Nola’s bedroom. I specifically requested that the camera be added to the Southeast corner of the room, so that I might see anyone passing in the hallway, while keeping a close eye on Nola as she sleeps. I
smile, staring down at the empty bed and exit the app.
Beside me, Nola snoozes away, sprawled out and clearly exhausted.
After a half hour of blue balls, my body has finally settled down. I wasn’t lying when I said today was about her or that I fully intended to savor every minute. All of this is about her, ultimately. The distraction. The cameras. All with her in mind.
It’s not that I’m willing to give at the expense of my own pleasure, because if the conditions were right, I’d have used her body as voraciously as she used mine. I don’t like condoms, though, which is why I’ve historically paid top dollar for clean girls, and I like a bit more fight with my fucking.
Problem is, the role-playing has gotten dull and boring. I’ve grown tired of girls with rape fantasies, for hire. I want the real deal and I want it with Nola. I could see it in her eyes with the wine stopper, that devilish glint telling me she isn’t all sweetness and innocence when it comes to sex.
No, there’s something darker living and breathing inside of her, too. Past all that hesitation and inhibition lies what she secretly desires, but will never admit aloud. I see it, though.
She hides it well, but men like me sniff that shit out like dogs on a blood trail.
The woman craves depravity as much as she craves the assurance that no one will ever discover her true nature. For a sadist who’s watched her for hours, it’s obvious, and her denial is somewhat amusing. Fact is though, Nola would never go for the kind of degrading shit that gets me off. The wine stopper was a good test, but even that took some coaxing, and unfortunately, three hours isn’t enough time to erase the lies she’s trained herself to believe.
Yet, if she did decide to indulge in some of my darker fantasies, we’d make one hell of a match. The kind that’d burst into flames and set fire to everything around it, because the woman wears sensuality like gasoline perfume.
For the first time in a long time, sex didn’t bore the shit out of me. In truth, watching her come, hearing her climax, was everything I’ve dreamed it would be, but my body craves more from her. It knows what she’s capable of, and won’t settle for some premature eruption when it could have sweat, claws, and the rush of adrenaline that’d leave me dizzy for her afterward. The kind that’d have me addicted and obsessed. Weak for her.