“That’s it.” He groaned in pleasure, bringing a hand to the back of her head.
She made a deep purring noise, running her hands up and down his thighs as she sucked. “Mmm.” She enjoyed herself as she took him in deep.
I stood, frozen to the spot, banana bread in one hand, thermos of lemonade tucked under my arm. My jaw must have dropped to the floor. But I didn’t move.
Eyes closed, Declan leaned back with his throat stretched out and a dusting of stubble across his strong jaw. His shoulders were so broad, so defined, his chest a pure wall of muscle. He looked like raw, potent power with his thick thighs spread. A groan came out of his throat.
He cupped the back of the other girl’s head and pushed her down on his hard cock. All male domination, in a deep, throaty voice he told her, “Suck it.” The girl moaned, loving every second of it.
A shudder traveled up through my body. My core tightened and heat pooled deep within, my pussy starting to throb. I’d never seen anything so dirty, so erotic.
Hand on her head, so controlling, he said, “Yes, like that.”
I knew I should turn and run but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move a muscle. I could see his pulse throbbing in his neck, could see his outstretched hand fisting in the couch pillow. His thighs corded with muscle, tense. Her head bobbed up and down, working for him.
I bit my lip and looked up. He was looking straight at me. Frozen, caught, I couldn’t move. His eyes devoured me, scorching me with an intensity I’d never seen before.
“I’m going to come,” he growled, looking straight at me. I couldn’t stop a soft moan from escaping my lips as he threw his head back and groaned while his cock exploded come into the other girl’s mouth.
Then I ran. Holding my ridiculous banana bread and my church picnic thermos of lemonade, I ran as fast as my 18-year-old legs could carry me all the way back to my house up on the hill. I pounded up the porch, slammed the front door behind me and though we never did, I locked it tight. Throwing my undelivered gifts to the floor, I ran up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom.
But then what did I do? Did I bury my head in my hands and cry like a good girl, promising myself that I was done for good with Declan? Did I learn my lesson?
No. I brought my fevered hands down to my wet, throbbing pussy and discovered my own needs. I’d never seen anything like that.
My fingers worked my slick clit. I wanted to kneel between his legs. I wanted to take his cock full in my mouth, have his hand fisted in my hair and forcing me down on him. I moaned, my fingers moving faster. I wanted him to tilt his head back and call out my name. I wanted his hot come shooting down my throat.
It was the last thought that put me over the edge, sending wave after crashing wave of orgasm shuddering though my sweat-soaked body. I wanted him, I needed him. I hated him.
Now
“Go stand behind the couch,” he ordered, his dark eyes intense and unreadable. He stood in the corner of his penthouse, the cool and collected businessman in his dress shirt and crisp jeans. All of Billings lay below him through the windows on one side. I stood on the other, half-naked and awaiting his commands.
“What?” My head felt foggy, flooded with desire so intense it didn’t leave room for much else. He’d told me it was time to begin my training. What did he mean? Why did I want to find out?
“Over to the back of the couch. Put your hands under your ass and sit on them.”
“Declan?” I bit my lip. Even as his words, his demeanor and his dominance made my sex throb, I couldn’t fully shake the reluctance out of my head. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t how people behaved.
Pointing to the couch, he repeated, “Your hands. Under your ass. Now.”
Shaking, my body took over and I walked to the couch. I turned to face him. Then I placed my hands behind me, palm-down on the back of the couch. And I sat on them. The leather felt cool and unyielding. My skirt rode up so high I could feel it against my upper thighs and even the base of my bottom. With my hands secured behind me, I sat like he told me to with my shoulders back and my back arched.
I felt exposed, trapped, and slippery hot with need. I had to be a twisted, sick woman to love this, but I did. And he knew it.
There was nothing I could do to hide my arousal, my breasts straining toward him, begging for his attention. I squirmed and panted and he could see how desperate he made me.
He approached me, striding slowly, his massive strength tightly controlled. He clenched his jaw.
In a low voice, he asked, “Did it turn you on, flirting with those men in the bar tonight?” He reached out a finger, slow and deliberate, making a circle first around one nipple, then around the next. I whimpered, panting under his touch.
I couldn’t help it. I had to touch him. I brought a hand out from behind me and reached up, grabbing his huge shoulder and raking my nails across his muscles.
He pulled away, a stern look on his face and an index finger up in admonishment. “No.”
Surprised, I looked up into his eyes, my hand feeling so empty.
“You need to do as I say, Kara.”
He’d told me to put my hands under my ass. I bit my lip. He wanted me to obey his orders. I wanted him to touch me. Reluctantly, I brought my hand back under my bottom like he’d told me.
“Good girl,” he praised me. “You’re mine for the week. You need to learn how to behave. I’m in control here, do you understand?”
His voice coated me thick and dark like velvet and I wondered if the sound of it alone could make me come. I nodded, but couldn’t think to speak with his hands back on my body, slowly caressing my waist, up again at my breasts, brushing, circling, squeezing, coaxing. With the slightest, briefest whisper, his fingers grazed my nipple.
“Oh!” I cried out, unable to stop myself. I felt so vulnerable and exposed, unable to move my hands under his commands.
Suddenly, he reached out and tweaked my nipple, hard. I gasped, then moaned as he brought his mouth down to it, sucking it, then circling it with his tongue. All still through the barrier of the bra. I’d never hated a bra more.
“You didn’t answer me, Kara.” His breath hot against the wet fabric, he asked, “Did it turn you on, flirting with those men in the bar?”
“Declan…” I panted as he took his thumbs to my breasts, teasing me again, tracing them lightly, outlining their swell. I felt agitated, embarrassed to be called out for doing exactly what I had been doing. I had been flirting, enjoying the male attention.
“I saw you strutting around,” he continued. “Working it.”
“No!” I gasped, ashamed. But I had been, thrusting out my tits, swaying my ass, using my body to turn them on. Especially when I knew Declan was watching.
“No? You weren’t being a tease, Kara?” He brought his hot mouth down again and bit me, lightly on the soft mound of my breast, harder, his teeth on my nipple.
I cried out, twisting on my hands, arching into him, shocked and confused and desperately wanting more. I had been teasing. And I’d wanted him to catch me doing it, to see that I was sexy and desirable. But I felt guilty about being caught. Good girls weren’t supposed to do that.
He drew back and surveyed me, cupping my breasts lovingly. “I’ve always loved your tits, Kara. So sensitive. So responsive.”
I was vaguely aware of him taking one hand away, the sound of ice clinking against a glass. I assumed he was taking a drink.
He brought an ice cube directly onto my erect nipple. So cold, it made me gasp and straighten up, my eyes wide now in surprise. He smiled, not pulling away at all, and began to trace a path around my breast with the ice cube. I still wore the bra, but it didn’t offer much coverage. He plastered the lace to my trembling skin with the cold, dripping ice.
He reached down with his free hand to my inner thigh. I parted my legs without being asked. Declan gave a low, appreciative murmur. “That’s good, Kara. Open for me.”
I moaned in response, parting my legs more. He stroked my inner thigh and brought the cube in slow circles around my nipple, making me think about how much I needed direct contact. I tilted my head back, wantonly pressing my breast up into the ice, seeking more sensation. I wanted to reach out, pull him toward me, but I kept my hands pinned where I’d been told.
“I like how much I can see with this bra.” The wet lace pressed against my curves, my nipples stiff and aching. He licked his lips. “But it has to go. Take it off. Take everything off for me, Kara.”