Читать книгу Sweet Spot - Kimberly Kaye Terry - Страница 9

With one final shove, deep inside her ass, he groaned harshly and dragged his cock out of her body. Seconds later, she felt his semen spurt on her back before trickling down her spine.

She reached a hand between her legs and frantically worked her clitoris until she spasmed and her own orgasm hit.

“Shit,” Adam panted. He sank down on the bed after moving his body away from her.

With his head thrown back on the white, cotton-covered pillows against the headboard, he flung one arm over his eyes, his chest rising and falling sharply with each breath he inhaled.

“It was good for you, then?”

Adam grunted out what sounded like an affirmative, without removing his arm from covering his eyes.

One corner of Marissa’s silicone-injected, pouty mouth hitched up in a half grin with satisfaction. With a purely feminine purr of contentment, she reached a slim arm out and withdrew a package of cigarettes from her purse set on the bedside table.

After shaking out a cigarette, she withdrew a gold-plated lighter encrusted with faux diamonds from her purse, placed the cigarette between her pursed lips, and lit it.

As she sucked the nicotine deeply into her lungs, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard, enjoying the pleasurable buzz that the combination of a good screw—well, a decent screw—coupled with the nicotine gave.

“What?!” Marissa’s eyes flew open when her cigarette was snatched out of her mouth.

“What the hell are you thinking about, smoking in here?” Adam grimaced, holding the smoldering cigarette between two fingers and bounding from the bed. He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and seconds later she heard the toilet flush.

Bare-assed, he strode angrily back into the room, energetically blasting the room with diffusing aroma from an aerosol can of air freshener.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, bitch? Gaby knows I don’t smoke. She hates smoke!”

“Oh, yeah, gotta make sure precious little Gaby doesn’t suspect her Prince Charming is getting a little extra pussy on the side,” Marissa mumbled, and allowed her eyes to drift down into slits as she observed Adam.

Not that Adam was technically getting pussy from her, Marissa thought. With her he was an ass man, literally. Whenever they had their liaisons, it would take him sodomizing her several times before he’d finally get around to more traditional sex.

She arched her spine and sat up, wincing lightly, as she continued to observe him.

He was handsome in a classic surfer-boy sort of way, with his Nordic good looks—classic aristocratic features; long nose, bright blue eyes, and blond hair.

He wore his thick blond hair slightly long, the ends curling at the nape of his neck and tied back in a small ponytail.

Although he wasn’t all that tall, only an inch or two at best taller than she was, at five feet ten inches, he was perfectly proportioned.

She watched his tight, muscled ass and his lean calves flex as he walked around the room spraying. His penis was at odds with the rest of him.

Just like the rest of his body, his cock was lean, average in length, nothing distinct about it, with the exception of the fat, round knob of his dick. It was so round and fat that when she’d first seen it, her reaction had been to laugh. She’d never seen a man’s dick that fat at the end, with that funky curve. It reminded her of a warped banana.

She’d swallowed her laughter when he shoved that oddly shaped dick inside her ass.

She hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t been properly lubricated, and had cried out in pain that first time when he’d flipped her on her stomach, gripped her hips tightly, and shoved his fat-end cock deep.

She’d barely caught her breath from the unexpected backend invasion when he started rooting inside her. In short, staccato thrusts he stabbed into her; the pressure had been painful as hell.

At the same time he’d eased two of his fingers inside her pussy, pressing past her resistance, no gentleness at all. Then he’d added the others, until the bastard had his entire hand jammed inside her, fisting her.

Despite her screaming he’d continued his harsh fucking. She’d breathlessly begged him to stop, telling him that it hurt.

He’d laughed, told her she knew she liked it, ignored her cries, and continued to ply both ends of her.

He continued to screw her with his fist and sodomize her with his oddly shaped dick, rotating it, shoving both deep inside her until she’d surprisingly felt her pussy gush. Her fluids eased over his hand and down her thighs, and within moments she was pumping and grinding, fucking him as wildly as he was fucking her.

When he bit down on her nipple the pain sent a direct zing to her core and within seconds she came so hard, she nearly blacked out.

Despite her dislike of him, his self-absorbtion, his overconfidence, the way he strutted about like a rooster, she’d gotten hooked on his kinky brand of sex.

She’d been his secretary for less than six months. It had taken her all of a few weeks to get him in bed. She’d wondered why he took her up on the offer. Not that she doubted her own attraction, but she knew he was dating that nerdy-ass pharmacist. She also knew he had someone else he was seeing, although he didn’t know she knew that. After the first few times together, she’d asked him why.

He’d laughed, looking at her as though she were someone to be pitied. With her, he said, he was the one in charge; he was the one calling the shots. She’d thought the answer odd.

At first, when he’d told her he couldn’t do the things he did to her to Gaby, his precious Gaby, she’d resented it, even though she had initiated the first encounter with him. Hearing him say that he couldn’t get freaky with Gaby like he could with her had made Marissa furious.

He couldn’t soil the princess.

For her, he gave his gentle lovemaking. Kissing, eating her pussy, never allowing her to swallow his dick, none of the shit he had Marissa doing, getting her so wrapped up in him, he had her on her knees, begging to suck his cock.

She clenched her teeth in anger. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She was the one that was supposed to get him sprung, not the other way around.

As he went about energetically spraying the room, she ran resentful eyes over his body, settling on his pale cock as it swung gently. Her eyes settled over his tight, small, compact ballsack, nestled snugly behind his cock.

Marissa grimaced and slightly adjusted her sore bottom into a more comfortable position. She reached for her purse.

“She’s not supposed to come back until tomorrow, anyway. What’s the fuss?” she mumbled and defiantly shook out another cigarette.

He spared her only a withering glance from his pale blue eyes, his gaze holding hers for a fraction of a second. Marissa shivered from the expression in his flat eyes, and with shaky hands, returned the cigarette to the package and put it back inside her purse.

Once she’d obeyed his silent edict, he threw her a small, satisfied nod before he turned away and walked back into the bathroom.

“So when is she getting back? What time, exactly?” Marissa leaned back against the headboard, pretending a nonchalance she was far from feeling. She heard him open the closet door inside the bathroom, before, minutes later, he emerged.

By the time he reentered the room, he’d pulled on a pair of cream-colored loose-fitting linen slacks, and was in the process of buttoning a matching short-sleeve shirt. After he’d buttoned the last button, he turned his attention back to her.

Marissa plastered a lazy smile on her face, keeping her irritation in check.

As much as she liked to pull his tail, his reactions weren’t always predictable. She didn’t feel like going through the routine of him having to “discipline” her. The sadistic son of a bitch liked that shit way too much.

He picked up his gold Rolex—fake, Marissa thought with an inner smirk—and fastened it onto his wrist before answering her.

“She’s flying in later today. I pick her up at the airport in a few hours. Speaking of which, you’d better get dressed and get out of here. I need to clean up before Gaby gets home,” he told her, picking up her discarded underclothes.

As if her clothes were some nasty thing, he held them out for her to take, pinched between three of his fingers, a look of distaste on his angular features.

“Sure, baby, no problem.”

Marissa leisurely swung her feet over the side of the bed, stood, and stretched her body, purposely pushing her large impressive breasts forward, and yawned deeply. She took satisfaction in the look of irritation that flashed across his face when she took her time before accepting her clothes from him.

“What’s the rush? We have time for one more…bit of play, don’t we?” she asked, hooking her clothes over her arm. She raked the long acrylic fingernails of her other hand down his chest.

“No, I’ve got things to do.” He reached a hand out and grasped her hand as it stopped at the waistband of his slacks.

A trill of fearful excitement settled in her stomach when he pinned her with his flat stare.

“Did you set up the meeting?” he asked, reminding her of what he wanted her to do for him.

“Yes, uh, I did. I’d better get going,” she murmured, and breathed an audible sigh of relief when he released her arm. She barely controlled her trembling legs and stopped herself from stumbling when he abruptly let her go.

“Good,” he said in satisfaction as he walked toward the door.

His next words halted her before she could make her escape into the bathroom. “And, Marissa, I won’t be in need of your…services…for a while. I’ll call you when I need you. Don’t make the mistake of calling me when I’m not at the office again. I don’t want Gaby to start asking questions about you. Do I make myself clear?” He didn’t bother to look at her as he asked the question.

She nodded her head slowly, even though he wasn’t there to see her.

If she played her cards right, went along with what he wanted from her, she would take him away from his princess, as well as the other, she thought, a calculating smile crossing her mouth.