‘Not yet,’ he said, but I could see he had lost that cast-iron control for a moment, and I felt the heady surge of triumph in our erotic battle of wills.
‘Hold on to my right shoulder,’ he said. I did as I was told, but before I could figure out why, he clasped my right thigh and hooked it over his left shoulder.
I had to hold on to him so I wouldn’t fall over. My position was impossibly vulnerable, my sex level with his face. Before I could panic or worry about whether I had the strength to stay upright in this position, he ran his nose up my inner thigh, then sank his teeth into the front of my thong and tore it free.
I was still reeling with shock, still holding on to him for dear life, my whole body quivering with need, when he ran his tongue over the folds of my sex.
I moaned, stunned by the sensation. Wet and firm, his tongue felt incredible as he explored in rough, raw strokes, lapping at my folds, stirring the intense pleasure to life in vicious waves. He gripped my thigh, positioning me so that I had no choice but to open myself completely to his marauding mouth.
I gasped, writhed, forcing myself into the heat. I felt dazed, weightless, drifting into another realm, where only the pleasure mattered. I rode the slick waves starting to consume me. Then he used his thumb to expose the hot button at the top of my clitoris and closed his lips over it to suckle me.
The pleasure exploded in glittering shards, racing along my nerve endings, blooming outwards in throbbing euphoria—too bright, too brutal, too overwhelming… The orgasm ripped through me but seemed to last for an eternity. Finally he released me from its grip and gently lowered my leg back to the floor.
I felt the ache in my thigh muscles from the position he’d held me in. And the much greater ache in my sex—the desperation to be filled painful now—as he stood to tower over me and cradled my cheek.
‘Brava, Mia,’ he murmured, the smugness in his tone bearable because of the approval. Then he clasped my neck and kissed me—forceful and possessive.
I could taste myself on his lips. Spicy and erotic—and not at all repulsive.
But I was still shaking, the afterglow shimmering through me, when the emotion of it all blindsided me.
I’d never had an orgasm with Dave. The man I’d intended to marry. The man I had convinced myself I loved—because he was convenient and safe. And now this man, who I didn’t even know, and who I already suspected was the opposite of safe, had given me something I would always cherish.
‘Thank you,’ I mumbled, the tears stinging my eyes at the thought of that girl who had always settled for less far too easily.
‘Prego,’ he murmured, but his husky chuckle made me feel foolish. What was I getting so overemotional about?
I tried to draw away from him, but he gripped my arm, forcing me to meet his gaze.
‘The night is not over, Mia,’ he said, the promise in his eyes as intoxicating as that brutal blue gaze, so hot it burned. ‘You respond to me very well, and you come so beautifully. I will want to make you come many times before morning.’
He was talking about sex, but somehow it sounded like so much more.
Shame washed over me, and embarrassment.
Could he see how desperate I had always been to be desired, to be touched, to be devoured? Even to be dominated? And why did the thought we had only tonight make regret pulse in my chest?
I didn’t have a chance to dwell on my reaction, though, when he ran his thumb across my lower lip. ‘I want this beautiful mouth on my cock,’ he said, as direct as always. ‘But first I must fuck you.’
I blushed at his bluntness, but felt stupidly grateful to him for getting our booty call back on track. I wanted both those things, too. Oral sex had always been a chore up to now. But not anymore. I had no idea how I was going to accommodate his huge cock, which looked massive even disguised by his boxers. But I knew I wanted to try.
I nodded and reached for him, running my hand over the thick ridge through the cloth, gauging the size, the firmness.
He grabbed my wrist and jerked back, preventing me from caressing him. ‘I am too close,’ he groaned.
Excitement surged on a wave of achievement, that I had done this to such a powerful man.
He kissed my fingers, then led me through the salon and into a bedroom. A large king-size bed dominated the luxuriously furnished room, moonlight covering the satin sheets in a silvery glow.
Releasing me, he sat to tug off his shoes, then stood and thrust down his trousers and boxers. The enormous erection sprang out, reaching skyward, thick and hard and heavily engorged. I swallowed, the lump of emotion in my throat joined by stunned arousal.
I watched as he tugged his T-shirt over his head until he stood naked.
The scars and tattoos that adorned his body only enhanced his dangerous beauty. My avaricious gaze skated over the dark hair covering the ink on his chest, the necklace of thorns drawn around his collarbones, the broad shoulders and biceps where more ink swirled.
But once my gaze had drifted past stacked abs, and the spectacular V defining his hip bones, it snagged again on his thrusting cock, so long, so hard, the bulbous head glistening with pre-cum. He gripped himself and slid his fist up and down, tugging in rough strokes.
‘You like what you see, Mia?’ he asked.
