I’m not surprised. I only need to look at her to evoke half the excitement their exchanges caused. That doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on her, though. The reminder her lips have been on any man but me is enough to bring out the dominant side she’s yet to wholly experience.
As Gladys’s feet shuffling out of the elevator sounds through my ears, I gnaw on Isabelle’s bottom lip as I’ve threatened to do multiple times the past couple of months before slowly pulling back.
Her sparked-with-lust eyes augment to amused when I mutter, “If you’re going to be accused of something, you may as well do it.”
After nodding in agreement, Isabelle reacquaints our lips. I nip, lick, and suck on her delicate lips until the elevator dings, announcing it has arrived at the penthouse level. While walking to one of the doors at the end, I rock my hips upward, grinding my stiffened shaft against Isabelle’s damp panties. She moans into my mouth before her hand shoots down to the rock behind the zipper biting my cock.
As I walk her through my apartment, she strokes me through my pants. Her movements are frantic, almost too hurried for how long I’ll need to answer every whim leaving her pretty little mouth. I hope she doesn’t have any plans today because I have hours of excess energy to disperse, and since she is the cause of the adrenaline thickening my veins, shouldn’t she fix it?
When we reach the foot of my bed, Isabelle rakes her fingers through my hair, pulling me close, demanding more. I answer her pleas with three long strokes of my tongue on the roof of her mouth before I inch back. Her hair is mussed from our kiss, her lips swollen, and none of her earlier anguish can be seen in her rich, chocolate eyes.
She’s trapped.
Spellbound.
And I plan to take full advantage of her haziness.
“Remove your clothing.” When her hands rocket to the top button on her shimmery shirt, I add, “Slowly. I need hours, Isabelle, and for once, you’re going to give them to me.”
As her teeth graze her lower lip, she nods before undoing the first flimsy button. I watch her intently, both encouraging the defiance firing in her eyes and loathing it.
I don’t understand the word defeat, but normal concepts mean nothing when it comes to this woman. She tosses more than my astuteness on its head when she’s demanding my utmost devotion.
Once Isabelle is stripped down to sheer panties and a bra that showcases her fantastic tits in a brilliant light, I instruct her to remove her bra while I tug off my shirt. Once it joins her satin blouse, skirt, and bra on the floor, I yank my running shorts down my thighs.
“Jesus,” Isabelle murmurs. “Nothing couldevercompete with that.”
Her eyes snap to mine when I say, “Then perhaps you should have remembered that when you kissed not one but two men in a week.”
“I—”
I don’t give her the chance to deliver an excuse. I don’t want justifications. I want begs for forgiveness, and there is a far better way she can deliver them than solely with her voice. “Scoot back and grip the headboard. You’ll want your hands occupied during this part.”
A second after she does as instructed, I tug off her panties, then lower my head until it is nestled between her legs. I don’t devour her soaked slit as she’s hoping. I blow hot air onto the aching bud begging for attention before locking my eyes with Isabelle’s over her thrusting chest.
“Ple…” she starts before her rebelliousness reigns supreme.
After tightening her jaw, she does the same with her grip on the headboard. The fact she recognized my game plan so early in our exchange sees me accepting her boldness as a challenge. While keeping my eyes fixated on her flushed face, I spear my tongue between her pussy’s folds.
A growl rumbles in my chest when her ardent flavor activates my taste buds. It’s as desperate and needy as the moan Isabelle releases at the same time signs of an impending orgasm flood my tongue.
For a moment, I get carried away with how good she tastes. I fuck her with my tongue, bring her to the point of detonation in thirty painfully fast seconds, then I withdraw all contact.
“No,” Isabelle whines before she attempts to scissor her legs together to return the friction she so desperately craves.
I hold her thighs apart, not only giving me an unimpeded view of her pretty pink pussy but also denying her the ability to lessen the throbs of her clit. It is aching with so much need I doubt it would take more than a stroke to send her freefalling over the edge.
“I… I… I…”
I impatiently wait for her to finalize her blubbered statement. When it doesn’t happen, I slip off the end of the bed, tug her down until her ass is precariously dangling off the edge, then return my eyes to her face.
With her expression reflecting nothing but rampant horniness, I slide one finger inside her before quickly changing it to two. Moans rip from her throat when I pump in and out of her on repeat. As her wetness slicks my palm, she tells me how good it feels to be filled by me and she should have never waited so long to give herself to me, to begin with.
Her regret is almost enough for me to offer some leeway, but then I remember that isn’t the type of man Isabelle wants. She wants to be dominated. She craves a powerful, unforgiving governor.
The complete opposite of Brandon and Ryan.
With a grunt to expel some of the frustration weighing down my chest, I flip Isabelle over until her ass is high in the air and her face is squashed into the satin bedding. Her thighs quiver when I run my index finger from her drenched slit to her puckered hole. Since it isn’t a good shimmer, I give her asshole the quickest snippet of attention before I return my focus to her pussy.
