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She could deal with washing ice cream off. Even attempting to walk on non-working legs after five climaxes.
She couldn’t deal with having her ass invaded.
No matter how naughty and forbidden it felt.
No matter how sensitive her back rim seemed to be, as he spread her wider there.
No matter how thoroughly he knew how to work all the nerves up and down her other tunnel, offsetting the discomfort of having him invade where no other man had before. While Ryker could be passionate, he was conventional with a capital C…
And now, she was truly beginning to learn how many other ways the alphabet could be arranged. With this man, who taught her how to see the world in so many different languages…
“Hemolele. Kamaha’o.”
Like that one.
She really loved that one.
Especially if she could capitalize on it to distract him. Perhaps entice him to do something with body parts other than his fingers…
“I’m not sure I’ve heard that one before, Sir.” She nudged her hips a little higher, knowing her kittenish moves were his sexual Kryptonite. “What does it mean?”
Franzen stilled. His significant pause caused her to glance back. One of his brows was dipped low, the other hiked in assessment. His expressive lips were compressed to a harsh line. A pulse ticked in his jaw.
“It means you’re not going to safe word.”
She let him see the challenge in her own stare. “That so, hotshot?”
He smirked through a snort. “That’s so, Madame President.”
“You’re really sure of yourself.”
“And you’re really wet.” A hint of his teeth showed, brilliant and straight, through the arrogant part of his lips. “Sopping with juice, my little subbie. And so goddamn sexy because of it.” As if he planned it, his middle fingers slipped free from her pussy with a slushy sound. As Tracy sweated onto the desk from the force of her flush, his savoring moan drenched the air. “Perfect. This cream is so damn perfect.”
For what?
But she already knew the answer—and let the fresh tension of her body do the talking as he slid those moistened digits out to the tiny aperture now spread open by his other hand. As Franz worked the cream of her arousal into the hole, using tender but steady pressure, one word finally made its way out.
“Shit.”
“Ssshhh.” He repeated it with the same deep authority, as he breached her deeper with one finger. “Be still and accept your lesson.”
Tracy grimaced. Worked her hands tighter around the desk’s lip. “Which would be what, exactly?”
“That some things in life aren’t comfortable at first.” He pulled the finger out—but joined another to it on the way back into her tight hole. At once, her hips jerked as her instinct kicked in, trying to escape the new pressure. John pulled her back, firmly locking his free hand to the bottom of her spine again. “But if you stop trying to fight the forces, they often bring incredible things.” He pushed in harder. Stretched her in ways she’d never imagined. “Beautiful things, ku’uipo.” His thrusts came with subtle rolls of his body, his banked fires turning into physical curls of smoke, flowing against her…inside her. “You have no idea how beautiful.”
His voice was gruff with pleasure…perhaps some pain too. She almost snorted again. And what, exactly, would he be hurting about right now? But something in his tone tugged at her—and the words now swirling out of her, almost as if one person occupied her aching, invaded body and another controlled her soaring, racing senses.
“Tell me,” one of those women whispered. No. Pleaded. “Tell me how beautiful. Please, Sir.”
Several seconds stretched by, filled only with her Dominant’s soft but gruff breaths. He changed nothing about his treatment. One hand pinned her down by the small of her back. The other maintained a strong rhythm, pumping two fingers deeper and deeper inside her back hole.
“You ask so prettily,” he finally murmured. “But are you really beseeching more as the kitten who wants poetry, or the Tigress who wants the truth?”
For long minutes, she only moved to work her forehead against the desk’s surface. Like that was going to help her with an answer—the definitive reply he was demanding, to a question that meant more than its words.
So much more.
Does he get a kitten or a tigress?
