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She forced her eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of this. Up close, Wyatt was even more potent than she’d imagined, the blue in his eyes more intense, the curve of his mouth more sensual. Male beauty tucked behind dark-rimmed glasses and a stoic’s disposition. His palms glided across her shoulders and over the straps of her tank top, then his fingers were threading in her hair. He touched her as if he were sculpting a piece of clay to create her form—a reverence and appreciation there that made everything in her want to break open. “Promise me you won’t let me hurt you, Kelsey.”

The words were so soft, the look in his eyes so stripped, that she lost her breath for a moment. She reached out and brushed the back of her hand along his stubbled jaw. “I promise.” You can’t break the broken.

With that last assurance, it was as if the tide he’d been swimming against reversed. His fingers tightened along her skull, and he brought her mouth down to his, his lips capturing hers in a soft but demanding kiss. Her body seemed to sigh into it, to surrender to the moment. But the second her muscles went lax, his tongue parted her lips, and all semblance of slow and easy fell away from them. Their tongues collided in a rush, hungry and seeking. Her hands began to roam, grabbing at his shirt, pressing against the hard, solid body beneath, wishing there were no layers between them.

All the pent-up months of wanting this man, wanting to know what he tasted like, what would please him poured into the connection between them. Everything went electric, like static coursing over her skin, heightening her senses. The feel of his hands against her scalp, the spicy scent of his cologne, the scrape of stubble against her face—it was all amplified.

This man lit her up.

And his kiss was as desperate as hers, his lips and mouth drinking her in, consuming her one stroke and nibble at a time. He arched his hips, grinding his cock against her sex and making her moan into his mouth. In that moment, she was ready for whatever this crazy agreement would entail, as long as she got to experience him like this. This untethered abandon. She rocked forward, curling her fingers into his dark blue polo shirt and holding tight, as he bit her bottom lip and then worked his way along the curve of her neck.

He lowered his hands to the curve of her hips, guiding her against him in a slow, undulating motion, his hard length teasing and tormenting her. The soft satin of her panties brushed along her now-slippery cleft, making her skin go flushed all over. When he grazed her collarbone with his teeth, she let out a pleading gasp. “Wyatt.”

“I want you to come for me,” he said, the heated command hitting her like a branding iron, marking unfamiliar places inside her. “And then you won’t be allowed to again until our trip. You understand?”

Fuck. The shift in him was so absolute, so gut-wrenchingly sexy, she could barely form her response. “Yes, sir.”

He closed his eyes, as if inhaling and absorbing her reply. Then he moved his hand between her spread legs, cupping her sex through the thin cotton and massaging her clit with toe-curling accuracy using the heel of his hand. “I can smell your arousal, love. And you’re wrong about one thing: You’re definitely sweet. I can’t wait to taste just how very.”

Her head tilted back, the pleasure crawling up her spine and climbing out in a groan. It wouldn’t take long. Even though she was more than adept at handling her own needs, she’d thought about Wyatt touching her for so long that she felt as if she’d been on the edge of this particular orgasm for months—one only he could give her.

While he continued the skillful rocking pressure between her thighs, his free hand traced up her sternum, brushing the inner curves of her breasts through her shirt, and then collaring her neck. She’d seen the move done a hundred times by doms in The Ranch’s playspaces, but never before had anyone done it to her. An overwhelming wash of pure need went through her system, the press of his palm against the hollow of her throat slaying her. She closed her eyes against the dueling sensations of helplessness and blinding desire as he held her exactly in the spot he wanted her, not allowing her to escape his erotic torment.

“Come for me, Kelsey,” he said, his voice like warm cider on a cold night. “I’ve imagined it one too many times alone in my own bed. I want to know what you sound like when you break open.”

The words sent her body aflame. Images of him slipping his hand beneath the covers at night, taking his cock in his hand and thinking of her was a little too much for her stampeding hormones to handle. His grip tightened against her throat, and the hand between her legs became more intense and precise, her swollen nub pulsing now.

“Wyatt.” His name was more plea than anything else. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract, bracing for impact.

“Let go,” he said softly.

At that last whispered command, blessed release crashed over her, wrenching a sharp, keening cry from her throat. Her hips bucked against his hand, shamelessly seeking every bit of pleasure he was willing to bestow upon her, as she rode the wave of orgasm.

“That’s it,” he said, still holding her in place, though there was grit and strain in his voice. “So fucking gorgeous.”

She shuddered hard, and her breath came out in ragged gasps.

“Good girl,” he said softly, the two words holding pride, endearment.

And as if he knew the exact second where she couldn’t take anymore, he moved his hand away and eased her against him, pressing her forehead into his shoulder as she panted her way down from her peak. His fingers caressed her back, tracing her spine. But the relaxing move didn’t hide the fact that his erection was a prominent and insistent pressure against her hip.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing a gentle palm over the back of her head.

“I’m fantastic,” she murmured into the curve of his neck. She shifted her weight, languidly reaching down to clasp the hard ridge of his cock through his slacks. “Now it’s your turn, handsome.”

He grabbed her wrist, not roughly, but firmly enough to halt her movement. Startled, she sat back to face him, and he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist. “Tonight was for you.”

“But I want to make you feel good, too.” And that was the damn truth. She couldn’t wait to touch, to explore, to pleasure him. Her mouth watered at the thought of sliding down between his knees and taking that thick cock between her lips, to finally know what he tasted like.

“And that’s not your decision,” he said with a faint smile, though she could see he was more than tempted. His whole body was taut, tense—hungry. But he didn’t move. “We’ve made a lot of agreements tonight. Big agreements. I want you to have time to think this through before I take it any further.”

“You think I’m going to change my mind?”r: Roni Loren

“An exchange?” he asked, his tone growing wary.

“I’ll go with you to your retreat and be the best pretend girlfriend a guy could have.” Before she could think too hard on it and chicken out, she slid off the chair and onto the floor, her knees hitting the cool wood and her heart trying to pound right out of her chest. “And you knock the dust off your dominance and put me through my paces for the first week or so of this. After that, you can decide if you want to finish my training or send me back to Colby for the rest.”

He made some noise in the back of his throat, and she couldn’t tell if it was a pleased sound or a horrified one. “Kelsey, I don’t . . . I haven’t since college.”


Tags: Roni Loren Loving on the Edge Erotic