Hottie (3 page)

“What awaits you two states over?” he asked. “A new job? A different man?”

“No job. No man.” Phoebe smiled sadly. “Just the hope of a new beginning and some random place I saw on the Travel Channel. It’s so pretty and flowery. You know…the perfect kind of town.”

“Perfect isn’t always the case. Most of the time, perfection is nothing more than an illusion. Stay with me, if only for a few days.” His fingers sprawled from her jaw to the side of her neck. He was strong. He was steady. He was reassuring.

He wanted her to stay?

“I don’t get it.” She stepped back, but he didn’t let her go. Rather, he followed, matching her rearward steps until she could go no further. The solid wall, flush against her back, thwarted her retreat while his muscular chest wall blocked any chance of escape, not that she’d want to. Not that it mattered, either. His intense regard practically pinned her in place.

“What don’t you get, Miss Morris?”

“You were all pissed a minute ago,” she whispered. “You thought that I was propositioning you. It was like sleeping with me horrified you. Insulted your manhood.”

“Not likely,” he replied, the deep timbre of his tone mesmerizing her as his hands moved to palm the wall on each side of her head, effectively caging her with his body. He lowered his head, and made no effort to hide his enjoyment of inhaling her scent and locking a devouring gaze on her lips.

Fuck.

He was hot…

Was he about to kiss her?

Holy Hell, she hoped so.

“So…um, are we going to sleep together?” Was that hope in her voice? Lord—he looked shocked. “I mean, I’m just wondering.”

“Again, I must admit I love your candor.” With a roguish smirk, he shifted his stance and pressed his thigh against her pubic bone. Her thighs parted automatically, allowing him to fit his leg snugly under her pulsing center. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

“Well, yeah, but only if you’re good.” Her clit throbbed against the hard thigh muscle and it took everything in her not to grind against him. She looked up into his slate gray eyes and knew he was more than her fantasy could ever be, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “As I said before, I don’t want you to ruin the fantasy.”

“I think I can live up to it. But you need to know that staying, sex, and your car are not connected, Phoebe,” he stipulated, lifting her onto her tippy toes with the pressure against her crotch. “I don’t do sex for anything other than pleasure…mutual pleasure.”

Between the commanding tone and the friction of her weight, she thought she might lose her mind—or worse, she might lose control of her excitement.

“Okay,” she breathed, licking her parched lips. Anticipation thrummed though her body. Her legs grew weak. If he moved a little more… “I understand.”

He must have felt her torment, for he cupped her ass and lifted her off her feet, wrapping her legs around his waist. She held on tight. He smelled of musk and man and she wanted to drown in that scent.

“First, we begin with your pleasure,” he said, striding over to the tall wood fence that enclosed the area where she’d bathed. The next thing she knew, he was rolling the large driveway gate and carrying her into a backyard of sorts. The roof she’d glimpsed above the privacy fence was not for a storage building, but a home.

His home.

He kicked open the back door and carried her over the threshold.

“We start with a kiss,” he said, claiming her mouth and stealing her breath.

Chapter Three

More Than a Few Hot Climaxes

“You have no clue how much power you hold, Miss Morris.” His lips found the pulse point beneath her ear, and his tongue swept over it, feasting on her neck. “So much power.”

“I know you’re strong, Hottie.” Digging her fingers into his broad shoulders, she balanced herself and leaned her head back. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“Not my power, sweetheart.” He pressed her against the kitchen wall. “The power is all yours.”

He tore the tank at the scooped neck and straight down the center. Her breasts sprang free, and he captured a nipple between his lips and the other between his fingers. She moaned and arched her back, tilting her hips and grinding her pussy over his abs.

“You need to be shown how a real man should treat a woman. Miss Phoebe Morris, you deserve to be cherished.”

Suckling a straining peak, he moved his mouth to the soft skin beside it and staked his claim. She groaned in acceptance, holding his head and pulling him close.

“Maybe you have a tough exterior, but the tenderness inside is impossible to hide.” He kissed the pink skin that responded to his touch at an amazingly quick pace. “You will never again give up everything to please some asshole and his ego. A proper man should enable you to grow stronger and more successful, not steal your self-worth.”

“Mmm,” she purred as he stroked up the outside of her thigh. “Can we talk later?”

“What? You using me for my body and not my mind, Miss Morris?”

“Is that bad?”

“No,” he groaned, slowly kissing every inch of her neck. “But, I should at least be rewarded with a feast fit for a king.”

Phoebe nodded, curved her back, and dropped her chin atop his head, holding herself slightly off his body. The warmth of her cunt moved off his stomach, and he slipped his hand inside her wet panties, caressing the soft curls covering her center.

“The panties need to go,” he said, sliding a finger beneath the material and between her swollen folds.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Trust me?”

“Yes,” she echoed, trying to rip the undergarment from her body, but unable to find the coordination to complete the tear.

“Yes, what?” He stilled her hands, shaking his head.

Phoebe looked into his eyes, searching for an answer.

“Yes, what?” Hottie repeated, nibbling on her lower lip

“Yes, Sir?”

“Are you asking?”

“No, Sir,” she breathed against his mouth, moving against him and offering him more of her body, urging his touch deeper within her.

“Good girl,” Hottie replied. “It’s Sir or Master Dane, Phoebe.”

Master Dane? She liked the way it sounded. Her stomach clenched in anticipation of his next statement. Not only did he accept responsibility, he did so demanding respect.

“When you are naked in my presence, I own your body, and I will do as I please with it. If you do not agree, you must say so now.”

Fear dueled with excitement. She barely knew the man. But she wanted him. She needed him. Searching his eyes, she found the reassurance required to consent.

“I agree,” she said.

“I lead,” he answered, between biting and soothing her kiss-swollen lip. “I tell you when and how. You said yes, the decision is now all mine.”

Excitement zinged to Phoebe’s core. Her cream-coated channel gripped his thick finger and begged for more. No man had ever taken responsibility for her pleasure. No one had cared.

“Okay,” she whispered, closing her eyes and inhaling his scent. “It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

Hottie placed her flat on the kitchen table, his finger still hooked inside her pussy, stroking the recesses of her most private spots. Lowering his head, he kissed the darkening skin beside her nipple and soothed the deepening bruise. His hair tickled the sensitive area on her heated torso as he licked down the center. Taking little detours, he covered every part of her stomach, continuously playing with the torn elastic of her panties that was still looped about her thighs.

He added a second finger, stretching her ache and infusing her pussy with wanton desire. His thumb pressed over her clit, and ecstasy pulsed in her core.

“I’m going to come,” she said.

“No, you won’t,” he replied, pushing a third finger into her channel and stretching her beyond her imagined fantasy. “You will let it build. You will not come until I say you can.” He strummed her clit, teasing her control and testing her strength. “You still have your panties on. My woman comes without panties, sweetheart.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. How was she supposed to ignore the magic of his fingers when he said such things to her?

With his free hand, he rolled a nipple and pinched the peak. Pain jolted through her being, causing her to push down on his other hand and ride his fingers as he continued to roll and pinch her nipple. The pain morphed into pleasure.

“Oh,” she breathed, her body moving of its own accord. “I so needed to be fucked. But I never thought a finger fuck could be so good.”

In an effortless move, he took all her weight and swept her into his hold, pulling off her panties and returning her to the edge of the table. Pushing her knees apart, he revealed her swollen sex, and a guttural groan rose from his throat.

“Beautiful,” he said, spreading her folds with one hand and slowly running the index finger on his other hand from the top of her clit, along her cunt, into her channel, out, and up again. He repeated the gesture till he had pumped each finger into her alone, in doubles, then triples.

“You’re so wet. So responsive,” he announced, sliding his middle finger home. He removed it and sucked it into his mouth. “Delicious.”

Moisture pooled in her core, and her legs trembled as he lowered his head and covered her pussy with his mouth, lapping at her cream and filling her ache with alternating fingers and tongue. Manually shackling her ankles, he held her feet flat on the table, and she lifted her hips off the wood. He licked, sucked, and fucked her, until she fought to breathe.

“Not yet,” he warned, releasing an ankle and fitting his pinky against the soft rim of her ass. “If you come without permission, I will have to spank you for your disobedience.”

Spank?

Her orgasm shattered at the mere thought of him spanking her ass. Prisms of color danced in her sight. The air dissipated, and she thought she’d pass out from the bliss that exploded within her. He pushed his pinky into her anus. The sting of pain brought her back to a state of extreme awareness, yet her cunt clamped on his fingers with the renewed force of another, stronger orgasm.

“Your ass is mine,” he said. His tongue circled her clit, encouraging her higher. “Pink and swollen, and all mine.”

“Yes, yes,” she agreed. “Please…”

Begging, she moved her hips, searching for his mouth. After what seemed like endless writhing, he obliged and finally replaced his fingers with his tongue. She climaxed a third time, her body tingling with the release, and her hips rising to take more.

Somewhere between her orgasms, his pants had vanished. Large and ready, his naked cock pushed at her. His erection glided between her folds, but did not enter her. The hot, smooth head pushed at her sensitized clit and she whimpered.

“Please…” she panted.

With a warning glint in his eyes, he ignored her entreaty.

She whined in frustration, trying to reach for his balls, only to find her hands suddenly trapped above her head.

“I say when,” he repeated, flexing his hips and dipping his dick in her juices. “I fuck you, sweetheart. You don’t fuck me—not unless I say you do.”

Hottie lifted her off the table, secured her legs around his waist, and lowered her onto his erection, a slow and torturous inch at a time. Long and thick, he stretched her, waited for her to adjust to his cock, then pushed a little further while pulling her lower.

She tried to move, to take him in and out, but he held her in place, pulling her down and burying himself at his leisure. His fingers had not prepared her for his girth. He filled her. Consumed her. Claimed her.

One thrust…two…

“Together,” he said, then sealed his mouth to hers and pushed a long finger inside her ass.

Her climax splintered through her body as he groaned out his pleasure.

He turned and sat on the table, allowing his control to slip as they climbed high. Her nails dug into his back, and her teeth sank into his shoulder. As her orgasm subsided, he stroked her hair, held her in his embrace, and kissed the length of her neck, whispering words of treasure against her skin.

If only he’d cradle her in his lap and let her sleep in his arms.

“You ready?” he rasped.

“For?”

“Your spanking.”

Before she could respond, he was on his feet and turning around. He placed her upon the kitchen table on her hands and knees.

“Shoulders down, ass up,” he murmured, adjusting her so.

“But—”

“Hush,” he instructed. “I lead, you follow. Remember?”

Holy shit, he really was going to spank her.

In the bowed position, Phoebe cradled her head upon her forearms and closed her eyes, hoping the darkness would settle her racing thoughts and her pounding heart. Though she couldn’t see him behind her, she felt him there, felt his gaze burning into her skin like the potent rays of a noonday’s sun.

The coolness of the room in contrast to the heat of her exposed sex compounded the myriad of sensations assaulting her body—arousal and anxiety and anticipation to name a few. Cum trickled down her thighs, and shame flamed her cheeks. She was sloppy wet, and this displayed position just highlighted the wantonness of her actions.