“Fuck,” he exhaled, his hand up fisting his hair. He shifted along the couch, positioning his hips directly under my face. I brought my hands to his briefs and smiled. Still looking somewhat dazed, but also glazed with lust, he lifted his hips. I slid his briefs down off him completely.
His huge cock thrust out now, exposed completely for my enjoyment. Seeing it in its glory I once again marveled over how it fully fit inside of me. It looked so huge and powerful, veins pumping through it, more pre-come at the crown. I stroked admiring fingers up and down its length, brought my tongue down again to swirl up his come and taste. He swore again, his hands grasping the couch on either side.
I opened up and took him into my mouth, surrounding him with my wet heat. He hissed and I sucked, drawing him in. I felt a heady rush, the thrill of desire, as I brought one hand to his balls and caressed them, keeping the other at the root of his cock. I didn’t know how I was going to take him all the way into my mouth. But I wanted to, dearly. I wanted him deep down my throat and I couldn’t wait for him to come, to swallow all of his load. My pussy felt so wet I bet I was dripping, a slow bead making its way down my inner thighs.
I looked up at him and met his eyes. He was watching me like a hungry animal, intent, burning up. He looked like he’d never seen anything he wanted more than me on his cock. I moaned and took it in deeper, sucking and swirling my tongue, wanting more of him.
“Fuck!” he called out and brought his hands to my hair, twining them in my locks. “Suck me, Kara.”
I did as I was told, his command sending a deep throb straight to my sex. I needed to serve this man. I’d do everything he told me and more.
Then, abruptly, he pulled me off of him. Dazed, I kneeled between his legs, looking up. What was he doing?
He brought a hand to his huge prick. It looked even bigger than it had before, swollen and slick from my mouth. I watched, riveted, while he stroked it right in front of my face, but kept his other hand fisted in my hair. Keeping me there, close, watching but not touching.
“You want to suck this?” he asked, his voice low and thick.
“Yes!” I cried out, my hands up on his thighs, fingers clutching him with need.
“Did you touch yourself last night, Kara?”
“Yes,” I readily admitted.
“Did you come?”
“No.” I looked into his eyes, heat flooding my gaze. “You didn’t tell me I could.”
He growled in satisfaction, his hand still wrapped around his cock. “Strip for me.”
My legs weak with desire, I stood up, wobbly. Looking at him the whole time, I peeled off his t-shirt, letting him see my breasts. He took me in, heavy-lidded in appreciation as he stroked himself. I brought my fingers inside the waistband of his boxers, slid them down and stepped out of them. Now he could see how wet I was, glistening and dripping with need for him.
“Show me,” he commanded, eyes locked on my pussy. “Show me how you touched yourself.”
Following his directions without hesitation, I brought my fingers down to my throbbing clit. My eyes closed in pleasure as I found myself, stroking and circling my swollen flesh. I was so close, so ready on the brink.
“And your tits,” Declan barked. I moaned at his command and brought my free hand up to my breasts, rubbing, kneading, caressing.
“That’s right, just like that,” Declan praised me and I moaned again, his words stroking me as much as my fingers. “You see this?” His words opened my eyes again and brought my attention to his cock in his hand. “Do you want to learn how to suck this? Exactly how I want you to do it?”
“Yes,” I panted, my hand frantically working my slit.
“Do you want me to train you?”
“Oh God! Yes!” I didn’t know why the word “train” almost sent me over the edge, but it did, my eyes closing again at their own will, the intensity of my reaction nearly engulfing me.
“Kneel down before me,” he thundered. I complied, scrambling to kneel down between his thighs, right next to his cock. “Keep touching yourself. And show me your tits.”
I worked myself, thrusting, circling, and arched my back. I thrust my breasts out to him, my nipples standing out like two dark pink buds, throbbing with need.
“Yes!” Declan jerked his cock over my tits. Hot come spurted onto them, splashing up over my aching nipples.
“Oh! Declan!” Shock and lust ripped through me and I threw my head back, my breasts toward him and came. Throbbing waves of pleasure broke up and through my body under his assault. He kept coming on me, each new hot load of come on my breasts driving me into another crest, another cry out as I shuddered in orgasm.
With a deep, satisfied groan, Declan shot his last drop out of his cock onto my waiting breasts. I sighed in release, deep, primal pleasure flooding my entire body. He sank back onto the couch, watching me. I dropped down onto my calves, feeling my wet, slick pussy against my ankles. It felt like I might slide off. I could still feel his thick, warm cream sliding down my breasts. My nipples covered in his come was the nastiest thing I’d ever seen in my life, but it stroked me deep in my core. The visceral evidence of his pleasure surrounded me, rewarded me.
“We’re getting on a plane in one hour,” he said, looking at me with wicked, heavy eyes. “I’d like to keep you exactly like that, kneeling before me, covered in my come.” I met his eyes and gave him a low smile in response. I wanted that, too.
“But I have other plans for you, Kara. We’re heading to New York for the week. And you’ve been a bad girl.”
My eyes widened, my smile fell. What was he talking about? He looked at me, intense, controlling. “You’re going to need to take your punishment. I didn’t tell you you could come.”
CHAPTER 2
Declan
In the limo to the airport, Kara chattered away with excitement about heading to New York City. I liked the way she called it by its full name, not New York or the city. There was nothing jaded about Kara.
Fresh-faced in a simple ponytail, she looked luminous with barely any makeup. She’d gotten ready in ten minutes, about a half-hour shy of what it took most women I knew. She’d insisted on leaving a note for the hotel cleaning staff, telling them to bring the flowers home with them. I would have let them die without another thought. But that was Kara.
A thin, white cotton top clung suggestively to her generous breasts. With it she wore fitted white jeans and high-heeled sandals. On any other woman it would be a run-of-the-mill summer outfit. On her, I wanted to rip it off her save those heels, find out what panties she had on, until I ripped them off, too.
Last night I’d finally fallen asleep with the conviction that I was ending this. I’d take my hand out of the fire, let sleeping dogs lie and all that. I was going to send her back to her ranch with a big, fat check because terminating our arrangement would be the best for the both of us.
Then, she’d woken me up, hot, wet and begging for me and I’d changed my mind. Simple as that. It wasn’t a matter of weakening my resolve. Strong men changed their minds. Frankly, I’d have to be a complete idiot to turn this down. Kara in New York at my beck and call for the week. I could do anything with her that I wanted. And I was thinking of passing up on that opportunity? Who’d be the sucker then?
“I’ve only ever been on a plane twice,” she said sitting next to me, looking out the window of the limo. “My dad had an aunt who lived down in Texas. We visited her when I was a kid. She lived a couple hours outside of Dallas. I remember seeing all the buildings from the plane. So gigantic and sprawling, I couldn’t believe it.”
“I mean—” she paused, glancing at me, growing self-conscious. “I’m sure you can believe it. I guess you travel all the time now.”
I nodded. “More time on the road than off.”
“What’s your favorite place to visit?”
I didn’t need to think about it. “Rome.”
She gasped. “Really? You’ve been to Rome? What’s it like?”
“It’s loud and gritty and busy. You’ll be walking around and suddenly you’re next to a ruin that’s been there since Julius Caesar. And the food is…” I shook my head. How could you describe perfection?
“I’ve always dreamed about seeing Rome. And Paris.”
“Paris is more polished and refined. Every street you turn down looks like a painting. It’s gorgeous. In Rome, motorcycles do 80 through the city roundabouts. There’s more people shouting.”