Читать книгу The Dare Collection January 2019 - J.C. Harroway - Страница 21

MY BUTT WAS on fire, my throat felt hoarse and my eyes were gritty with tears.

My orgasm was still pulsing through me, the echoes of my screams reverberating off the glass of the windows and the white walls of Xander’s apartment.

I’d never felt so good in my whole damn life.

He’d taken me apart so completely I’d kind of lost myself. In the burning pain as he’d spanked me and the pleasure that had come with it. I didn’t know why it had turned me on so much, but it had. And the words he’d used, calling me his fuck toy and his bad girl, had turned me on even more.

I’d been wet before he’d even started spanking me and then, when he’d touched my pussy and pushed his thumb in my butt... God...

I couldn’t stop shaking.

Lying across his lap like this, with my jeans and underwear pulled down, felt exposing and yet at the same time so unbelievably erotic. He’d been watching me the whole time he’d touched me, making me the complete focus of his attention, as if my pleasure was important to him.

As if I was important to him.

God, if I wasn’t careful I was going to be desperate for him again and I hadn’t even come down from the last orgasm.

Xander removed his hand from between my thighs and gave me a light stroke that made me shiver from my head all the way down to my toes.

‘Kneel on the floor,’ he ordered, his voice containing that stern note that I loved so much. ‘And don’t move until I get back.’

I wanted to ask him where he was going, but he was already urging me from his lap and down onto the floor, and my brain wasn’t working well enough for me to get the question out.

Then he was gone, leaving me to kneel in the silence.

My legs were still quaking and I could smell my own arousal. My inner thighs were slick with it. It was embarrassing.

After a minute or two I shifted to pull my undies and jeans back up again, but he came back just as I was doing so.

‘No,’ he said curtly. ‘Don’t cover yourself.’

He strode past me to the sofa, tossing some condom packets down on the cushions as he sat down.

I stilled, my heart racing, wondering what he was going to ask of me next and half afraid, half excited about it.

He leaned back on the sofa, his thighs spread. He was tall, dark, powerful. His black gaze was so compelling and so full of fierce heat that I could hardly breathe.

‘Take your clothes off,’ he said in a voice full of steel.

Okay, so he wanted me to strip. In front of him.

I swallowed and got to my feet, awkward and afraid and yet somehow even more turned on than I had been before.

The me of a few days ago would have found this demeaning, stripping for a man while he watched. It would have made me feel too like my mother for comfort.

But the way Xander stared at me, intense and watchful, his sharp, predatory features full of hunger... No, it didn’t feel demeaning at all.

There was a power in doing this for him, in following his orders.

Because it was obvious from the look on his face that it made him as desperate as it made me.

My hands shook a little as I shrugged out of my denim jacket, dropping it on the floor. I pulled off my T-shirt and discarded it before bending to unlace my sneakers. My fingers felt thick and unwieldy, and I kept fumbling with the laces until eventually Xander said, ‘Stop.’

I froze. ‘I... I’m sorry. I can...’

But, before I could get any more words out, he pushed himself off the sofa and knelt at my feet, his long fingers deftly undoing my laces for me.

It shocked me into silence.

He didn’t say a word and I could only watch as he finished undoing them. Then he gently urged me to lift up my foot and, before I knew what he was doing, he’d slipped the sneaker off then my sock too.

His fingertips on my bare skin were so hot that I began to tremble again. My chest felt tight at the care with which he touched me, easing my foot back down onto the floor before urging up the other one.

When he finished, I thought he’d go back to sitting again, but he didn’t. He stayed on his knees but straightened up, reaching for the waistband of my jeans and pushing the denim down my legs, taking my underwear with it.

‘I thought you wanted me to take my clothes off,’ I said huskily.

‘I changed my mind.’ He urged me to lift one foot then the other again, helping me step out of my jeans. ‘Besides, you’re mine to do with as I see fit so don’t question me.’

The dark, rough words whispered over my skin, making me catch my breath. And then I was naked in front of him and shaking with the force of my desire.

He looked slowly up my body as if he was committing every part of me to memory, and the hot possessiveness in his black gaze eased the fear inside me, made me even more aware of the way I affected him. And how in this moment I was just as powerful as he was.

I could deny him at any time. I could say my word and he would have to stop, and he would stop. Xander King had always been a man of his word.

Power glowed inside me as his hands dropped to my ankles, but I didn’t say seven. And I knew I wouldn’t say it.

Because there was nothing he could do to me that I wouldn’t want.

Slowly he ran his fingers up the backs of my legs, his palms hot against my calves and then the backs of my knees, and up to my thighs.

The look on his dark, handsome face became one of intense male satisfaction.

‘Beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘You’re beautiful.’

I’d always hated my beauty. Hated how it made me a target, how it made men always want a piece of me. But right now, standing in front of Xander with him looking at me, desire like a fire in his eyes, for the first time I didn’t hate it. I was glad of it. I was glad he found me beautiful and that it pleased him.

You’ve really lowered yourself to this? Pleasing a man?

But I ignored that thought and then it exploded into stars as Xander’s fingers tightened on the backs of my thighs and he leaned forward, brushing a light kiss over my stomach.

Goosebumps erupted all over me, the breath hissing in my throat. And then stopped altogether as he moved lower, burying his face between my thighs.

Pleasure twisted like a knife as his tongue pushed roughly inside me and I groaned aloud, my back arching.

Oh, my God. I was nearly ready to come apart. Again.

His hands slid higher, cupping my butt and squeezing. It hurt, but the pain was sweet somehow, giving an edge to the pleasure that was cascading through me.

He held me tightly, pressing his tongue deeper, holding me still.

I gasped, my hands reaching down and threading through his thick, silky black hair. Standing was difficult, my knees weak and shaky.

I wanted to lie down, spread my legs wide, give him greater access, but he held me tight and I couldn’t. And somehow that made it even hotter, the lash of his tongue even wickeder.

Oh, holy shit. He was going to make me come again.

But, just before the release hit me, he pulled away, dark eyes burning.

I moaned in protest, swaying on my feet as he let me go.

He licked his lips, one corner of his mouth curling in a smile that made me go hot all over. ‘Not yet, bad girl. It’s my turn now.’

He moved back to the sofa and sat down, spreading his thighs once again. ‘Kneel. Your mouth needs to be around my cock in five seconds or I’ll turn you over my knee again.’

I was helpless to do anything but obey him—not that I wanted to disobey. The thought of getting to taste him was making my mouth water.

Shakily I lowered myself to the floor, ignoring the hard press of the wood against my bare knees, then leaned forward, my fingers reaching for the zip of his suit trousers.

He didn’t help this time, letting me fumble as I got him unzipped then reached inside his boxers. He was long, thick, his skin hot and silky-smooth. And God, so hard.

That was me, wasn’t it? That was me making him hard.

He was staring at me so intently, so arrogantly I could hardly breathe. And then, like he could read my mind, he said, ‘That’s because of you.’ There was an accusing note in the words that made me shiver with delight. ‘You and your delicious pussy made me hard. Now, what are you going to do about it?’

I held him in one hand and eased forward between his thighs. ‘Shall I...suck it?’ My voice was embarrassingly thick and shaky-sounding, making me blush. But I couldn’t stop myself from adding, ‘Please...’

He made a rough sound. ‘Of course you should suck it. What did I say about getting your mouth around my cock?’

I didn’t need to be told twice. I bent, touching my tongue to the shiny head of his dick, tasting salt and musk.

A moan escaped me and I opened my mouth wider, taking him in deep.

God, he tasted so good. Raw and dark, and intensely masculine.

The look on his face mesmerised me, set in harsh lines of hunger, his gaze boring into mine with such intensity I wanted to look away.

But his hands were suddenly fisting in my hair on either side of my head, holding me still as his hips flexed and he thrust his cock into mouth, hitting the back of my throat.

I groaned, holding him as tightly as he was holding me, the sound vibrating against his shaft as he thrust again.

He bared his teeth, his breath hissing. ‘You’ve got no idea how fucking erotic this is, watching my dick disappear into your mouth.’ He thrust again. ‘I could do this all night.’

I couldn’t speak, not that I wanted to. Not that I could have with my mouth full of his cock. The ache between my thighs was getting unbearable and I was desperate to touch myself, get myself off because the taste of him and the look on his face, stern and commanding and full of desire, was turning me inside out.

Because, yet again, there was power here. A power that was mine. The power to make this strong, harsh, beautiful man breathless with desire. So much so that he wanted to make me his for the night.

You want to be his for more than one night.

I pushed that thought away hard.

I didn’t have time to think about crap like that, not when his cock was in my mouth and the harsh sounds of his breathing filled the room.

‘This is getting you off, isn’t it?’ His voice was gravelly and ragged. ‘Sucking my cock is making my bad girl horny.’

I nodded frantically. I didn’t know why I just didn’t touch myself. Maybe because I wanted his permission—which was totally against everything I’d believed about myself, but then again, this whole evening was totally against everything I’d believed about myself.

That I’d be some man’s fuck toy. That he’d spank me then order me to suck him off and that I’d like it.

No, that I’d love it. Even find power in it.

Makes a difference when someone other than yourself is punishing you, right?

The thought was fleeting, gone before I had time to hold onto it, and then he abruptly pulled out of my mouth and I let out a helpless sound of loss.

He ignored me, reaching for one of the condom packets then ripping it open. With a lazy, practised movement that stole my breath completely away, he rolled the condom down. Then, before I could move, he leaned forward and pushed me down onto the floor onto my back.

Kneeling between my thighs, he gripped my hips, hauling my pelvis into his lap but leaving the rest of me lying on the floor, making my back arch.

He looked arrogantly down at my pussy and I couldn’t breathe as he rubbed the head of his cock through my slippery flesh a couple of times, teasing me. Then he fitted himself to the entrance of my body and, gripping my hips, thrust hard, watching all the while. I cried out, my sex throbbing as I felt myself part then clench around him.

The hard wood of the floor pressed against my spine, but I barely noticed. All I was aware of was the iron bar of his cock and the exquisite slide of it inside me, the deep, hard thrusts that had me crying out yet again.

Casually, he lifted a hand, his dark gaze watching where we were joined and his fingers found my clit, stroking me in time to his thrusts.

The orgasm crashed over me and I sobbed, writhing on the floor, arching up as he thrust harder, deeper.

He didn’t stop, the ragged sounds of masculine pleasure echoing around me in time to the sound of his flesh on mine and, before I knew it, another climax was building inside me again, bringing raw pleasure. Intense ecstasy.

I sobbed, his name pouring out of me. ‘Xander... God... Xander...’

‘You’ve been such a good girl.’ His voice was so dark, so rough. His hold on me was so tight it was going to leave bruises. ‘Such a good little fuck toy. I’m going to make you come again.’

‘I...can’t,’ I moaned.

‘Yes, you can,’ he said as if there was no doubt or argument. ‘Unless you want to say your word.’

No. Never.

I said nothing and he laughed, the sound as roughly erotic and deep as the feel of his cock inside me.

Then he didn’t talk any more, using his fingers as he fucked me, making me come yet again, sobbing and writhing on the floor.

And when he was done I felt him move harder, faster and, through the pleasure that was dragging me under, I heard him call my name. And then follow me into ecstasy.