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can see that I am."
She could. And he was indeed ready thick, and hard, and
pulsing with heat. Suddenly thankful she wasn't wearing any
panties, she climbed onto the bed and straddled him,
pressing herself against the heat of him, sliding him back and
forth through her slickness. He began to move with her, and
she stopped.
"Don't," she said softly, "move. Just stay still. This one is
for me, and me alone."
He didn't say anything, just watched her, an intentness in
his gaze that sent a delicious thrill down her spine. She
continued to hold his gaze and began to slide up and down his
shaft again, watching his pupils dilate with desire and lust,
until the blue was almost gone and all that was left was black
ringed by silver. Which was odd when his eyes were blue.
But she really wasn't worried by oddities right now, but
rather how damn fine everything was feeling. She closed her
eyes, concentrating on sensation, concentrating on sliding
him back and forth, teasingly touching all the right places, but
never for long enough. Pleasure spiraled, and her breath
caught, then quickened. She hadn't intended to fly solo all the
way, but right now, she just couldn't stop. It felt too good. He
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felt too good, just sliding back and forth, back and forth. A
shudder ran through her, and she rubbed against him harder
as the sweet pressure began to build low in her stomach and
flutter upwards.
"Look at me," he demanded, voice harsh, raw.
She opened her eyes. His gaze consumed her, burned her.
The scent of his need swam around her, flaying her skin,
flaying her senses, until all she could feel, all she could smell,
was his desire. His body quivered beneath her, as if
demanding she unleash him, take him. She didn't, losing
herself instead to the rapture and power of denying him
pleasure, denying them both that moment of complete
oneness while at the same time satisfying her own needs.
And even though his frustration lashed at her, there was also
something fierce in his eyes, as if what she was doing was
exactly what he wanted her to do. And that, somehow, he
was deriving almost as much pleasure by watching her take
what she needed as he would have if he were inside her.
The thought became lost as the waves of pleasure rose
and rose, until they were a molten force that would not be
denied.
Yet even as her orgasm ripped through her, some small
part of her half-wished it was Grey she rode, that it was Grey
whom she would soon allow to pleasure her anyway he damn
well pleased.
Trust her to be landed with hormones that could never be
happy with what they had.
When the trembling eased, she took a deep breath and let
it out slowly. Sweat glimmered across the warm gold of his
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by Keri Arthur
skin, and his body trembled beneath her. His gaze was fierce,
hungry. Demanding. A tremor that was all anticipation ran
through her. What was still to come would be good. Real
good.
"Satisfied?" His voice was a growl that rumbled right
through her.
She allowed a small smile to touch her lips. "If you mean
am I satisfied that you're willing to let a woman take
complete control in the bedroom, then yes, most definitely.
"Good." He tugged on the rope, freeing his hands. "Your
turn."
Another tremor of excitement ran through her. The edge in
his voice, the heat in his eyes, suggested that her turn would
be a long, drawn out seduction, despite the fact that he was
quivering with need.
And women had turned away from this man? What kind of
fools were they?
She silently offered him her hands. He looped the silken
rope around her wrists, then undid the rope around his ankles
and shifted so she could lie down.
"On your stomach," he said, voice still rough.
She obeyed, and he straddled her, the heat of him
brushing her skin as he leaned forward and loosely looped the
rope around the middle post of the headboard.
Then he said, his words little more than a whisper of
warmth past her ear, "You will beg me to give you what you
denied me."
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by Keri Arthur
"I don't beg for anyone," she replied, knowing even as she
said it that in her present state, begging was high on the
agenda if she didn't get what her body demanded.
"We'll see." His voice held a confidence that made her
quiver deep inside. And that quiver had absolutely nothing to
do with fear.
She closed her eyes, waiting for his touch. A top popped,
and the warm aroma of citrus and sunshine stung the air. She
cracked open an eye. What were the odds of two men
wanting to do the exact same thing to her?
Then his oiled hands slid over her back, and the question
was rolled away by pleasure. She closed her eyes again, all
but purring as his fingers worked magic up her back and
across her shoulders. By the time he'd finished she wanted
him badly, and she couldn't help groaning in frustration when
he climbed off.
"And what was wrong with finishing as we were?"
"The fact that you're not ready to beg me for it yet." He
slapped her butt lightly. Even the sting of his hand on her
flesh had excitement flushing through her body. "Turn
around."
She did. He moved down to her feet, tying them spread-
eagled, then started the whole massaging process all over
again. It was a sensual and erotic experience that had her
panting with need and aching like crazy. But still she wasn't
ready to beg, and the dangerous glint in his eyes suggested
he had no intention of moving on until she did. Part of her did
want to give him that, to just beg so she could feel the thick
heat of him inside. She needed that, needed him thrusting
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by Keri Arthur
deep, so very, very deep ... and yet, there was also
something undeniably exquisite in the torture of waiting. In
letting the moment, the tension, and the desire build, until
there was nothing between them but urgency and need. She
might not be far from that point, but she hadn't reached it
yet. And obviously, neither had he.
He reached across her and placed the oil back on the
bedside table. "Beg for me," he said softly, his words warm
whispers across her lips.
"No," she whispered back, then kissed him.
There was nothing soft, nothing sweet, about this kiss, and
yet it was incredibly passionate. It was the kiss of lovers, not
two strangers making love.
And then he was inside, driving deep, and she was arching
up to meet him, wanting everything he could give, as hard
and as fast as he could give it.
Only he didn't give her anything else, just pulled out of
her, leaving her empty and aching. His teeth nipped her
bottom lip lightly when she opened her mouth to protest.
"Beg for me," he whispered again.
"No," she panted, squirming beneath him, trying to
recapture his cock and drive him home again.
Only she didn't need to. The words were barely out of her
mouth when he was ramming hard inside her again. This
time, he stroked several times before withdrawing. The man
obviously had amazing control.
"Give me what I want," he said, his gaze holding hers,
fiercely determined.
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by Keri Arthur
"No," she said, wondering why she felt it was so important
that she kept resisting. Damn it, she wanted to be fucked
hard, he wanted to oblige, and all she had to do was open her
mouth and say please.
But something deep inside had decided resistance was
important.
He shifted, moving to one side, then slid his hand down
her body and into her slickness. She shuddered, enjoying his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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