Was he going to fuck her now? Did she have the energy for that? Her pussy and ass tingled as though her orgasm had completely tortured every muscle she owned.
“On the floor. Kneel.”
His quiet words held a tone of command that resonated through her at the most primal of levels. Still panting from the aftermath of the orgasms he’d given her, she slipped off the side of the bed to kneel on the hardwood floor. It was cool under her knees, and surprisingly smooth. With brisk efficiency, he adjusted her posture—straightened her back, pushed her shoulders back, parted her knees, adjusted the angle of her head, had her cup her breasts and offer them. By the time he was done, she was panting for a very different reason. His businesslike touch and tight control over himself had her intimidated and completely aroused.
“Stay.”
He unzipped his jeans, and she waited anxiously, not able to remember ever being so eager to give a man a blowjob. As the denim slid lower on his hips, she longed to follow the beautiful muscles of his lower belly with her mouth, but he’d told her to stay, and after the pleasure he’d given her, the man had earned some obedience.
His cock, when he freed it from his jeans, was far too big, pulsing, angry . . . and pierced. She knew she was staring, but how could she not? Of course she knew that some men got piercings, but it had never occurred to her that she’d see one up close and personal.
As she made to shuffle closer, he frowned at her.
“I told you to stay, woman.”
He wrapped a hand around his jutting cock, and grimaced as though it pained him. Her tongue teased her bottom lip in anticipation. No man had any right to be so fucking sexy, and the way he stared at her, eyes half-lidded as he began to stroke his length, made her shudder.
“I’m going to come on those beautiful tits of yours,” he informed her. “Now, eyes on mine.”
This wasn’t how she’d expected things to play out. And he wanted her to look at his eyes and not the way he was pleasuring himself?
“But . . .” She drew her attention away from his magnificent cock, planning to say she wanted to watch, but his expression made her forget all about her objection.
How many women could say a man looked at them this way? Earlier he’d worshiped her body, but now his full attention was on her face. What guy had ever masturbated while commanding her gaze, as though her face or her expression was more important to his orgasm than anything else?
She licked her lips in frustration.
“Can I . . . ?”
“No.”
What sane man turned down a blowjob? Sinking deeper into her stance, waiting for him to do what he wanted, reality took on a surreal, ethereal quality. Her focus narrowed down to the sexy, lazy slits of his eyes, the desperate need to be what he wanted, to give him what he needed. Fear tried to bring her back to reality, but she pushed it away, enjoying the floaty feeling and the realization that she would crawl for this man and lick his boots if he asked. She barely knew him, but the connection she was feeling was real and raw and honest.
He grunted, but didn’t close his eyes as he came. The warm spurt hit her chest and slipped slowly down toward her nipples. She felt as though he’d marked her as his, more thoroughly than any brand. One of his big hands came up to cradle her cheek, and he rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone.
“Good girl.”
Pleasure turned her world hazy. Two words shouldn’t have held such power, but she felt them somewhere deep in her belly. She was pleased to have pleased him.
“Stay.”
When he pulled his gaze from hers, she felt lost. He moved into the bathroom, and she heard water running. Returning with a washcloth and smelling of soap, he crouched in front of her. He gathered her hair up in one big hand, holding it tight and close to the scalp, and she was reminded of her lingering arousal. He washed his come from her skin, and each warm, wet swipe of the cloth made her hotter.
He returned the cloth to the bathroom. As he walked back to her, she was far too aware of his broad, muscled chest, the huge arms, narrow hips, low-slung jeans still not zipped, leather belt unbuckled and hanging open.
Without any warning, he plucked her from the floor and tossed her on the bed, then stretched out beside her. He skimmed his hand over her body, and goose bumps rose on her skin. She shivered, and his lazy grin would have melted her panties if she’d been wearing any.
“You okay?”
She nodded, afraid that saying anything would ruin the deep calm she was feeling. Had she ever felt so quiet inside? Not that she could remember.
He rolled her onto her side and spooned up behind her. Protected. She felt as if he was shielding her. Lord knew there was enough of him.
Soon, it was hard not to squirm knowing the only thing between her and that dick of his was a bit of denim. His jeans scratched pleasantly against her sore ass whenever she shifted, but the hand that cupped her breast was still and respectful, even though her nipple was trapped between his fingers. Sexual tension buzzed between them, but she got the impression he wouldn’t approve of her trying to initiate more.
After a while every breath on her hot, aroused skin was torture. She whimpered, but he only made a low, short sound of amusement.
“Lusty little thing.”