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“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”Hurry the hell up, Sir.
My knees are still bent. He settles between my legs, sitting up, and grasps my hips. I am panting, helpless, pinned to the floor with the heavy weight of my sexual hunger.
“Tamara. Oh God.” The words breath out on a sigh as he uses his cock like a battering ram, sliding into my slick tunnel with one brutal thrust. The condom’s nubs rub against my sensitive inner walls as he pushes inside me. They drag against my tortured, needy flesh with each thrust. He controls the pace, pushing me to the brink of orgasm and then holding still while I writhe underneath him. Tears of frustration run down my cheeks as he hovers there, fingers sinking into the flesh of my hips, holding me perfectly still. Buried to the hilt, stretching me out… And then finally he starts moving again.
The sensations are so intense that I drift away, leaving my body and moving to a plane of pure sensation. When he picks up the pace, ramming hard, I clench my fists and arch my back, meeting his thrusts with my own until the two of us are swept away together. We fall over the edge, and I hear his cries as my muscles convulse and squeeze him. His fingers dig into my hips, his breath panting out eagerly.
“Fuck, Tamara…yes…so fucking tight… Oh God…”
Wave after wave rocks me, and I hear my voice crying out, making sounds without words. The orgasm rides up along my nerves, sending sparkles of pleasure to the tips of my fingers and toes.
He stays inside me even after the waves calm and recede, sitting with his eyes closed, as if in some faraway land. My body is limp and spent when he finally slides out of me.
My muscles are so loose and rubbery that I just lie there without moving as he fetches a towel.
Through slitted eyes, I watch him drying himself off. It’s like my own personal porn movie playing out in front of me. The towel moves over his flat stomach, over his broad sculpted chest…His body is perfectly proportioned, and his cock is already hardening again as he towers over me.
Slowly, I climb to my feet, just as he’s tossing the towel into a hamper and grabbing a fresh one from a shelf.
Without a word, he spins me around and pushes me against the wall and begins drying me off. I whimper when he drags the towel between my legs. I’m so sensitive from my orgasm that it hurts when he rubs me, and I try to push his hand away.
Instantly, he wraps his muscular arm around me, pinning my arms to my side. I’m trapped and squirming against him.
“Mine,” he growls, rubbing even harder, making me cry out in protest. “I touch you where I want, and how I want.”
“Please, Sir. I’m really tender after I come. You’re hurting me… Please…”
“Then why are you squirming?” he taunts.
“Because it hurts.” So why am I panting in pleasure as he torments my sensitive tissues?
“Liar.” The more I fight, the harder he rubs. Sensation explodes inside me, and I can’t stop the hot streams of pleasure that flood my body.
I’m screaming “No! Please, no!” as I come, bucking against him, orgasming uncontrollably.
“If you want me to stop, then you address me with respect.”
“Sir! Please, Sir!” I wail, and he finally stops, stepping away from me. I brace my hands on the wall, whimpering as the climax finally starts to fade. My quivering knees can barely hold me up.
He’s already getting dressed, and I’m still gasping for breath.
Bastard.
“I’m going to my office to work on finding my brother,” he says briskly, buttoning up his shirt. Calm, in control, emotionless. As if he didn’t just make me come and cry with his dick and his tongue and his fingers. “I’ll fetch you at eleven for sparring.”
“Yes, Sir.” My voice wavers, but I make sure that the word “sir” comes across loud and clear, because I can’t handle any more punishments. Or any more pleasure, for that matter.
He starts to walk out of the bathroom, then stops and looks back at me. His voice softens. “I’m sorry about being an asshole after breakfast. You’re wrong, but it was kind of you to say those things, and I shouldn’t have insulted you for it. And I like that you think better of me than I deserve.”
“I’m the last person to give you credit that you don’t deserve. Listen, Sarah is going to worry. Can I call her?”
He pulls out his cell phone. “With me standing here and listening, yes. You should be careful what you say to her, though.” There’s a hint of threat in his voice that really pisses me off, but I let it go.
I call her, and of course she’s completely freaked out, but I manage to calm her down when I tell her that I’m lying low until Micah-slash-Charlemagne is captured. Like everyone else on the planet, she’s heard about it on the news. I promise to check in regularly, and she settles down once I convince her I haven’t been kidnapped.
Back in my bedroom, there are bookshelves stocked with paperback bestsellers in every genre, so I settle down to read.
At five minutes after eleven, Joshua shows up in my doorway. Unfortunately, he’s got nothing to report. There’s no sighting of his brother, and nobody’s been able to track down Dr. Barnard either.
