The Australian (Crime Royalty Romance Book 2) (15 page)

I welcomed the enticement he was offering to help my decision along—but I assumed it was common practice to fully insert the penis in the vagina.

His grip had tightened around the back of my neck and his other hand was stroking my arm. “So what’s it going to be, Charlie?”

“I would still like you to . . . appease my arousal . . . please,” I whispered. I have always hated the unknown, and coming to Australia had been about me surmounting life’s mysteries so I could stop wondering about them and get on with living. Just a few more big leaps to make, then I could go back to—

He turned my head using both hands, and clasped my mouth with his full lips, opening mine up quickly, exploring inside with his tongue.

The sensation was . . . demanding . . . foreign . . . rough . . . wet. I marveled at all he took, and yet . . .
gave
at the same time.

I tasted him, too, and let myself withdraw inside, where I discovered I relished the knowledge that I liked the taste of him, and moreover that I wanted him to like the taste of me, and that I was showing him that. Yes, that’s what we were doing. Showing each other the degree of our passion, competing with tongues and saliva and lust. He pulled away but stayed close.

“Fuck, I want you so fuckin’ bad,” he hissed. “You shouldn’t’ave made me wait for you, Charlie. I’m an impatient bloke.” He stood up suddenly by the edge of the bed, and I watched him slide his underwear off.

I was slammed with shock.

His erect penis was large enough that his own hands fisted around side by side would not cover the length. Also—I swallowed—it was thicker than a tire iron. Much thicker. Below it hung his sack, slightly tired-looking, I imagined, from supporting the needs of its master.

I could not tear my eyes off his shaft as he sheathed it in a condom he had taken from his wallet. I was stunned at the events fast unfolding before me. He kneeled on the bed and his penis drew closer, and I realized Mr. Knight had been speaking the whole time.

“. . . so I’m going to fuck you like I need to right now,” he whispered, stabbing his tongue quick and deep in my ear, now my mouth, the way he no doubt intended to stick that shaft in me shortly. His hands grabbed hold of my nightie. “. . . going to take you so hard and fast, like you should have let me weeks ago . . .” Cool air hit my body, his big eyes and hands were all over my breasts.

“. . . holding out on me like that . . .” Oh, my breasts were on display! Before I could do a thing, he licked and sucked on my nipples, squeezed both close together, sending me flat on my back with incredible physical pleasure.

He glanced at my panties, back at my breasts and then my face. “I fuckin’ knew it . . .” He fondled and squeezed my breasts like I never knew they needed to be touched.

I groaned, and I let myself fall a little further into the sensations I had longed for someone to create in me. And yet it surprised me because all I could think about was how
he
enjoyed touching me, indeed, that
he
was mad, frenzied even, over touching me, and yes, his skin, warm, leathery under my fingertips and how his body needed mine like mine needed his . . . and I felt his desire and our desire and passion, yes, passion for each other’s touch . . . taste . . . admiration . . . hurt . . . lust . . . vulnerability. “. . . because I don’t want to hold back with you, Charlie . . .” Oh! Fireworks of pleasure shot through my pelvic area and, oh! I glanced down. He’d inserted a finger and at the same time torn off my panties—yes!—even as he pushed his finger in and out, which left me writhing and moaning and gasping from pleasure.

He was working me over so quickly I could not fathom it, and my hands shadowed his as if I could control him. “. . . you are so fuckin’ sweet . . .” He hissed. “. . . and wet, mmm, nice and ready for me . . .” He put his finger in his mouth and sucked it clean as his eyes penetrated mine . . . and I was completely under the control of this man. “Give me a few minutes after I’m done fuckin’ you then I’ll give you the best comes you’ve ever had. Lots of them.”

When his powerful body slid over top of mine, between my legs, and he pressed down on me, I panicked at the sudden mountain of flesh hovering over me, even as he stretched me open with his fingers, guiding his head into my opening. It was happening so fast! He groaned out loud, and curled down to kiss me as the tip pushed its way inside . . . It felt delirious, wonderful, and I knew if I touched my clitoris I would come straight away. I sucked in air, between sighs, floating . . . He straightened out his strong, thick arms, fists deep in the bed beside my head, and stared down at me, holding himself on the brink. “You should’nt’ave held out on me, Charlie,” he said, and drove into me.

I was not sure how far he got inside me.

All the anticipation had been replaced by injury.

He froze.

His hand was clamped hard over my mouth.

I had screamed.

His eyes were wide open with disbelief, his body rigid, above me. I strained to see . . . He had barely gotten in! I stared back up at him, pleading, silently.

He folded down around me and removed his hand, breathing heavy in my face, staring at me with shock. “Fuckin’ ’ell! You’re a virgin,” he gasped. “You’re a fuckin’ virgin,” he repeated, astonished. “Why didn’t you say anything? I would never have done that . . . Jesus, are you okay?”

I shook my head.

Tears leaked down the sides of my face. “Can you take it out, please?” I gasped. I felt his penis move ever so slightly inside, but he did not remove it.

He grimaced and sighed, lying further down on me—much to my consternation, remaining inside me—with both arms on either side of my head. He hung his head down beside me, resting his forehead on the pillow.

“Charlie, mind reconsidering that?”

“But it hurts,” I whined. “I mean, more than I anticipated.” Everything had been suddenly rewritten. Now I was naked, sticky, in bed with my employer with his sexual member ever so slightly inside me.

He leaned up and brushed my hair out of my face.

I’d never seen his face so full of . . . lightness. It immediately erased my regret. He seemed happy. “Charlie, love, you already said yes, and it’s done now, right? You want me to beg? Because I will.”

He appeared . . . tormented.

“Jesus. I should’ve known. But I assumed, you being such a soft touch, lots of blokes . . . But I’m honored. Truly.” He kissed my lips softly.

“We’ve come this far. Please say yes,” he pleaded.

He rubbed my face with his thumbs, trying to draw my attention out of my suffering. I searched his face and eyes and found my center. He was right. It would be illogical to stop now. And—I dug deeper—yes, I did not want to stop. It was only the pain that had given me pause.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Thank Christ, because I wasn’t sure I could stop—” He kissed my mouth deep and hard, locking my lips with his, and pushed himself farther in. I whimpered and moaned in his mouth, as he just kept pressing himself into me, inch by burning inch.

He heaved his upper body off me, and said “almost there” before locking back down on my lips.

He released my mouth and paused above me. “There. That’s as far as I’ll go. Can you manage that?” The veins under his eye were plump, his lips bright red, wet and full.

My entire pelvic region was searing. My head was empty. But my heart . . . full.

I nodded, longing to feel connected to him again in that deeper way, if I could have nothing else. He smiled. “Right, now just relax right, get used to me,” he uttered hoarsely, curling over me, and between kisses on my neck added, “Because I hope to be there a lot. It’s fuckin’ heaven, Charlie, though I imagine that doesn’t mean much to you right now.”

Heaven. His words did warm and reassure me.

I wanted to believe them. It helped when Mr. Knight hoisted himself up in order to rub my clitoris with his finger. I whimpered from the nearly unbearable additional sensitivity, but the rousing sensation allowed me to remember the goal, an orgasm, and soon, a meter of pain dissipated.

“Is it better?” he asked, strained, bending down to kiss my cheek and my lips, barely letting me answer.

“A little.”

He pulled back. “I would never hurt you, Charlie,” he said. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His body trembled from holding up his weight on one arm, which, I further realized, enabled him to limit his entry to only partway while rubbing my clitoris at the same time.

I longed to connect with him again.

I stared into his dark eyes—like tunnels into a cave, and inside it was warm, and dark, and quiet and safe. And there! I believed him. No. I believed
in
him. The feeling was beyond generous. It was astonishing. It was as mystical as I imagine spirituality is. He wasn’t just a man. He was broader, richer, far more complex . . . a person.

My hands slid away from his chest, and up onto his glistening shoulders. “I think I can see all the way into your eyes, too!” I exclaimed, reciprocating the earlier point he had made about me.

His brows cast together, and when he understood what I meant, he said, “Yes, you can, Charlie.”

He pulled his hips back and his cock slid out of me, creating a ripping sensation of pain and pleasure, while he stared at me half-smiling, and slowly eased himself back into my body, groaning the whole way, hitting a deeper, richer-toned pleasure while rubbing my clitoris. I gasped, but not from fright.

He kept still inside of me.

“Howzat?” he gasped.

“Better,” I offered, wishing to put his mind at ease. It was now a five out of ten in terms of pain. However, I understood clearly how he would prefer to take me, like earlier. “Perhaps you could move it quicker?”

He sucked his teeth, even through a locked jaw. “Don’t know how you do it,” he rasped. “You think I don’t know how to fuck? When you’re ready, you’ll see.”

He pumped me twice, quick and short like exclamation marks on a page, and returned to rubbing my clitoris fast while holding his body halfway out of mine, shifting back in and out, slower and faster, breathing heavy, manly moans.

Sweat dripped on to me, and his entire torso was tight from the tension.

I closed my eyes and focused on what B had said to me, just to feel, not analyze. But really, what I wanted was to go back to that place where it was just him and me, us, open and understanding. He accepted me and I accepted him and pleasure was the gift . . . my vagina was humming with warmth and even though it hurt, it was a delicious kind of burn, like one feels when exercising a muscle too hard.

My heart was bursting, and that made me shudder with steeped sexual pleasure. With my hands free, I clasped my own breasts and pulled hard on my nipples, wanting more, more, more. The scent was earthy, like rain hitting warm cement, but more elemental, like flower pollen just rubbed between your fingertips.

I let go of the circumstances, the
what
, the
why
, but not the
who
. No. I focused on the
who
giving me pleasure, taking pleasure, the person above me, how I had been so scared not even knowing what I was asking for until this moment, how he was giving it to me and
POW!
My back arched and quaked rather violently from a rocket of starry, shiny, flashing bliss. Yes, it was bright diamond-colored. Lustrous. Harder than glass. Yet transparent. Sparkling. More beautiful than light itself.

Only when I came back down did I hear him goading me on in my orgasm. He collapsed back down on both arms and buckled over me, grunting out, his face twisted in his own pleasure.

I felt my tender muscles squeeze with gratification at this sight of making him feel so out of control.

He kissed my mouth even as he finished, and I
felt
his gratitude before he whispered, “Thank you, Charlie,” and kissed my face and neck.

Goosebumps spread. I had a successful read on an emotion in another human being.

After a moment, while he restored his breath, he slid out of me. I was disappointed, as the pain had not been alleviated nearly enough.

I would need ibuprofen.

He arched up, removed the bloodied condom with his fist, and leaned over on his side, pulling me over to face him. “I’ll be right back. You okay?” His eyes were full of concern.

“Yes.” I smiled slightly, too shocked at the events to even think.

“Stay put,” he ordered, and I admired his perfect buttocks as he went to the washroom. When he returned he held his penis, still slightly extended. I couldn’t tear my eyes from it.

“You want some more?” he asked, smiling, sliding in beside me. I glanced up into his face. “Easy! I’m having a go.” He laughed at me, and kissed me lightly on my nose and my forehead. “I can’t believe you didn’t give me any warning,” he added, stroking my back with one hand and tweaking my nipple with the other. The sensation made me shiver.

“I did.” I grabbed his hand. I was not able to assimilate the idea of my body not being mine alone. “And you asked me if I wanted my chastity in the business contract,” I reminded him, dazed, remotely aware I was lying naked with my employer, not caring. I greatly appreciated not caring.
Responsibility is for suckers
, my mother would say. My goodness. She was right.

“Jesus, Charlie. I didn’t think you meant you’d never been with a bloke. Just that you weren’t very experienced. I would never have gone at you like that.”

He brushed aside my hair, held my chin and rubbed it with his thumb. I could not be certain but I think he was amused by me. Perhaps pleased. He was examining my face like I had had a makeover.

“Did you like it, then?”

I was surprised he was uncertain.

I had no way to compare Mr. Knight’s skill (B said most men were bad lays), but I could compare the orgasm to self-induced ones and state with certainty it was much better.

“Yes. It was very shiny.”

“Shiny?” He laughed awkwardly, pulling back. “What do you mean?”

“It was white and sparkly and blinding.” He stared at me, silent, and my cheeks reddened. “I am not very good at describing emotions, Mr.—” I caught myself. “Jace . . .”