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My nod is vigorous. “Okay.”
“Good girl,” Desmond says, his teeth catching my earlobe, his hands cinching my dress up and over my hips. I don’t realize until the cool air kisses my thighs that moisture is soaking through the crotch of my panties. Is he going to see that?
“I…um, I…”
His palms stroke down over my bottom, squeezing, and I forget my protests. There has never been anything more divine than his warm, strong touch cupping and massaging me so intimately, as if he’s my owner.
Desmond reverses our positions and walks me backward towards the bed, gently pushing me down onto the edge. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he grasps my knees and spreads them wide. My pulse is firing off like bottle rockets as he steps back, straightening to his full heights and running his gaze down to the juncture of my thighs. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, fisting his erection through his pants. “Look at what a hot piece you are.”
“A piece?” I breathe, feeling more moisture rushing down to slick my folds.
“That’s right.” He lowers the zipper of his pants, slowly. “You’re beautiful and smart, Quinn. Sweet as hell. But I forget about everything but getting my dick in that pussy when you show it off to me. That little honeypot between your legs looks like a tight piece of heaven, doesn’t it? God yeah, it does. I want to forget you’re a classy city girl and be rough with it.”
Have I melted into the mattress? I’m so warm. So tingly. “You do?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” He drags his tongue along the masculine curve of his lower lip. “Grab the sides of your panties and twist. Make them tighter.”
Such an erotic suggestion should make me giggle or sputter a protest, but his expression is so hot and eager, I find my fingers sliding beneath the side waistband of my panties on both sides and winding the material around my finger. Briefly, I glance down to witness what Desmond is seeing and my lips pop open at the sight that greets me. My underwear is practically see-through, due to my wetness, and the split of my womanhood is visible, along with my narrow strip of light brown hair.
With a growl, Desmond reaches into the open V of his pants and withdraws his erection—and I can do nothing but stare, my jaw in the vicinity of my lap. Honestly, it could pass for a forearm if it wasn’t so beautifully curved. “Oh my God,” I whisper, not sure if I’m speaking in my head or out loud. “It’s as big as the rest of you.”
Desmond’s chuckle sounds pained. “You’re making it that way, sweetheart.” He grips his girth so tightly, his knuckles bleed of color. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous, sitting there with your legs spread, those innocent panties stretched over your little fuck hole. Christ.”
His coarse words send a ripple of excitement through me. “You sound like you’re in pain,” I whisper, inching my knees a touch wider.
“You have no idea,” he pushes through clenched teeth. “Quinn, I have to touch you. Just a little, sweetheart. I won’t fuck you yet, but I gotta take this edge off.”
It might be crazy to trust Desmond so much, so soon, but I don’t question the impulse. I simply nod—and a split second later, I find myself flattened on the bed. Desmond’s big body presses down on mine, his hand between us, sliding his arousal upward through the thigh opening of my panties. My back arches on a moan when his shaft grinds down on my mound and he starts to pump his hips, snarling into my neck. He’s…humping me. Furiously. His hot breath creates condensation on my neck and shoulder, one of his hands holding my hips steady, the other rifling through my hair.
I’m a prisoner.
I couldn’t escape if I tried.
I’m his…piece. He’s dry rutting me to satisfy his male urges and I should be scandalized, right? Yes, perhaps. But I find my thighs wrapped around his thrusting hips, my toes digging into his flexing buttocks. The heavy steel of his inches gather a little more of my wetness with every frantic movement of his hips and the squelching sound fills the room, along with the increasing volume of his grunts.
“Fuck, Quinn. I’m sorry, I can’t stop. I can’t stop.” His hips piston so fast now, I have to clench my back teeth together to keep them from clacking. “Your pussy is too pretty. Gotta ride it. Gotta get my come on it.”
Something swells inside me. Is it feminine pride?
Yes, I think it is.
Look at me! I’m turned this big, brave hero into a servant to his own needs. He can’t seem to resist me—and that is thrilling. This morning, when I got dressed in this room, I was worried about having flyaway hairs on camera. Those fears seem distant and silly now when I’m a woman who can turn a man on to the point of a frenzy.
