His Black Pearl by Colette Howard Page A

the rest of his hand possessed her cunt. Forgetting the hand at her throat, Hallie melted against the cushion. She pressed her eyes tight, unwilling to witness her hips’ rolling surrender as he fucked her with all four fingers.
    “Not yet, Hallie.” He shifted forward so that his head rested against her chest as he listened to her little gasps and moans and sucked at her lush breast.
    She wanted her hands free, wanted to grab him and hold on tight as she felt the whole of his hand stretching her. Her chest rising and falling in a pant, her cunt closed around his wrist. He started to pump and then, with the hand at her throat, he tightened his grip.
    Squeezing, he whispered her name, his words carrying with them the unmistakable sound of ownership. She turned her head, tried to twist free. Her pulse pounded low and hypnotic through her head, each beat matched by a contraction of her pussy around his fist.
    The floor moved around them. She threw a leg up over the back of the couch, opening herself to him. He relaxed his hold on her throat and her head lolled to the side. He stopped the thrust of his hand, easing her back from the edge of climax as he did nothing more than clench and unclench his fist inside her.
    Slowly, he returned to alternating between his fingers tight around her throat and his hand flexing and pumping inside her. She knew -- her life, her pleasure, were completely at his command. The knowledge only intensified her climax.
    Colors bled to gray at the edge of her vision. Shadows took shape and fell like a blanket over her face, blacking the world out, leaving her to the sound of her breath squeezed through her throat, the wet thrust of his closed hand as she trembled around it.
    She was coming, had been doing so for what seemed like minutes. Every time she thought she would lose consciousness, he pulled her back from the edge, the rhythm of it submerging her in an orgasmic trance.
    Letting go of her throat, he moved his head down to her cunt. His fist still controlling her sex, he rolled his tongue around the hood of her clit then gently suckled the tip. She was jerking uncontrollably, her thighs pressed tight around his arm and wrist as she rode her climax. When he started to pull out, his slow, teasing withdrawal unleashed sobs from Hallie.
    Aaron reached beneath her and untied her hands. Then he kissed and massaged his way up her body until he had his big arms wrapped around her, her head cradled against his chest.
    “I can’t think.”
    He chuckled, his lips against her throat. “I’d be insulted if you could.”
    Ignoring the deep throb between her legs, she forced her arms up and around his neck. She grabbed a handful of hair, tried to knot her fingers in the thick curls but her fingers wouldn’t obey.
    “You’ll be lucky if I don’t Krazy Glue your dick to your stomach,” she warned.
    He reached between her legs, a quickly inserted middle finger revealing the deep muscle contractions that still pulsed through her cunt. He nipped at her ear. “You’d miss my cock too much, moro mou .”
    Biting at her lower lip, she looked away. True as it was, Hallie didn’t want to admit it.

 
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
    Two more weeks passed in a creative fugue. Hallie finished the portrait of her mom, paint breaking across the canvas in a splash of rich, sunbaked colors and not the institutional gray that had marked the last months of Mama Brandt’s life. With the image done, she was finally able to sit down and finish the piece Aaron had commissioned.
    He’d placed it on the wall opposite their bed last night, the canvas unframed to give the oils time to cure. With the picture up, he had fucked her senseless -- in the bed, at the edge of the bed, on the floor.
    He’d spent an hour eating her out -- his lips, tongue and fingers teasing her cunt every which way possible until he had taken her head in his hands and held her still as he locked eyes with her. They’d fucked like that, lips open,