Part 15 (2/2)

Can he read my mind? ”Baby,” she moaned, ”I love the way you smell-of the sea and warm musk.”

He raised a single eyebrow.

He wasn't impressed. ”You only have to look at me, and I melt. Your mouth torments me.” She writhed and arched her back to raise her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”My t.i.ts are so tight and hard, they're begging for your kisses.”

”Huh!” he grunted, but he molded her breast with his palm.

She raised her knees and let them fall open.

His gaze zeroed in on her moist slit.

”I need your mouth and your huge c.o.c.k. Take me.”

His jaw rippled as he clamped his teeth tightly. ”Tell me about my c.o.c.k.”

Was his voice hoa.r.s.e? ”You fill me to bursting. When you're crammed up inside me so tight I can't breathe, I don't ever want to let you go.”

Heat was in his gaze, and he flared his nostrils. ”There's the little matter of what you did to me tonight.”

”I'm sorry. I took it too far. I know I did. But you were so wonderfully responsive. I felt powerful, and so G.o.dd.a.m.ned turned on. Then you fell asleep...”

”Did I leave you wanting?”

She stared deep into his eyes. ”Yes!”

”Good.” He reached over her and released the knots that bound her wrists.

”That's it?”

”I find I can't prolong your punishment. I'm hard as oak, and I haven't had the pleasure of your warm solace this evening.”

Darcy opened her arms joyously.

Quentin lowered himself over her, pressing her deep into the mattress from her shoulders to her toes.

”I'm going to f.u.c.k you until you shout the roof off the house.” He pushed her hands onto the pillow and clamped his thighs around hers, trapping them closed.

Eager to begin, Darcy wriggled beneath him, wanting her legs free to clasp his hips, but he wouldn't allow it.

His c.o.c.k nudged between her thighs, poking against her soaking slit.

Darcy's made a little s.p.a.ce between her legs, just enough so he slipped between her thighs and pressed against her slick folds.

Quentin's jaw clenched, and he drove his hips forward, pus.h.i.+ng past her l.a.b.i.a, into her channel, all the way inside her until he b.u.t.ted her womb. He released a groan.

Darcy echoed it.

But he didn't move again. ”Well, here we are.”

Darcy waited for the storm to erupt, but he remained still. Her eyes narrowed. She knew he'd conceded too quickly. He intended to torture her. She tugged her hands from beneath his and traced the center of his spine, lightly, teasingly.

”Darcy,” he growled, ”You're not wresting control from me.”

Oh yeah? I know your hot b.u.t.tons, baby. She dug her nails into his back and sc.r.a.ped them down to the top of his b.u.t.tocks, feeling the ripple of his response.

”Witch.” His mouth descended, and he circled his lips over hers.

She tempted him with her tongue, reaching out to lick his closed lips, stabbing at the seam.

He resisted her invitation.

But, she'd just started. Her hands glided lower, and she cupped his firm a.s.s, giving him a squeeze.

His c.o.c.k pulsed, but he didn't move inside her. He dragged his lips from hers. ”Have you no patience? Is it not enough that I'm inside you, filling you? It is for me. Your c.u.n.t is hot and moist, and your l.u.s.t is fragrant.”

Darcy glared upward. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d intended to make her wait. This was almost more diabolical than her last ”lesson.” He was there! All the way up her. How could he resist their combined heat? Her hips longed to squirm and flex, but his weight trapped her movements.

But, he'd forgotten about one set of muscles over which he had no control. As she glared defiantly, she tightened her p.u.s.s.y and released, tightened and released.

And her hands were free. She reached until her fingers found the crease of his a.s.s and trailed downward to press against his tightly furled a.n.u.s. Grinning, she said, ”Can you resist, love? Hmmm?” She circled one finger and felt his thighs tremble atop hers.

Leaning upward, she bit his lower lip and dragged his mouth down to hers, sucking his lip inside her mouth, while her hands continued their torture below.

Sweat broke out on his face and chest, his arms began to shake, and his d.i.c.k moved an inch deeper.

With a hoa.r.s.e cry, he rammed a knee between her legs, shoving her thighs wide, and pulled out of her entirely.

Darcy moaned a protest and pressed her finger into his a.s.s.

Holding himself above her on his arms, he released a deep rumble that built from the back of his throat.

Darcy chuckled and poked her finger in and out. The man did love a finger-f.u.c.k. ”What's it gonna be, Bat-boy?”

Quentin broke into a full-fledged growl, and Darcy knew she'd won.

He grabbed her and rolled her roughly onto her stomach. Then he pulled up her hips and drove his c.o.c.k straight into her, cramming himself inside her body.

Darcy yelped and rose on her hands-the better to meet his powerful thrusts.

Each forward drive jerked her entire body until she grasped the headboard to brace herself.

The moves were almost too much-too deep, too hard, too fast. He gripped her a.s.s cheeks and rammed forward as far as he could go, grinding himself inside her, lifting and lowering her hips to increase the friction where her p.u.s.s.y met the crisp, wiry hairs at his groin.

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