and position myself over his erection.
“You’re mine now,” I tell him. Then, remembering what he said earlier—“Slut.”
He laughs darkly to himself as he slides inside of me. God damn, he feels incredible, pressing tight against my walls. I run my hands along the gorgeous dark brown row of muscled abdomen before me and cup my palms around his shoulders.
“You feel heavenly.” Marcus grips my hips and thrusts up into me. My head spins, delirious, as pleasure rocks through me at his thrust.
“So do you.”
“I want to feel you come.” His gaze bores into mine as he grips me harder—hard enough to leave a bruise. But I don’t mind. It only adds to the pleasure, lacing it with a sweet sting.
“So make me,” I tease.
He smirks, tightens his hold, and thrusts up into me like a goddamned piston.
Oh, my god. He finds just the right spot to drive me wild, slamming into it again and again. I gasp, trying to catch my breath, but my climax rises like a tidal wave to swallow me up.
I cry out, arching forward, hands going slack on his shoulders. His thrusts continue until he’s taut as a bowstring beneath me. Marcus grits his teeth and groans right in my ear as I slump forward on his chest. Then peppers kisses against my ear.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, slinging both arms around my waist. “Absolutely stunning.”
I start to stand, but he holds me tighter. It’s a weird and wonderful feeling. Most guys are practically shoving me out of bed the minute they get what they want. But Marcus nestles his nose against my throat, tender and sweet.
It’s a little wonderful.
And a little scary.
“I—I’m sorry. I really can’t stay . . .”
“You’re sure?” His lashes flutter against my cheek. “I’ve got a really comfy bed. Way better than this rug.”
I laugh, but already my stomach is wringing itself out. He can sweet talk me all he likes, but I know the end result will be the same. By morning, he’ll have forgotten my name. Forgotten how much he claimed he liked to be underneath me.
It never changes. I’m a novelty. Not a girlfriend. No guy can withstand my forcefulness for long.
“Maybe some other time,” I say, though I taste the bitterness in the words. I know they won’t come true. “Early class tomorrow.”
He sighs, and his arms go slack. “Okay. I understand.”
Reluctantly, I stand up, and excuse myself to the restroom. After I’ve cleaned myself up, I return to the living room. Marcus holds out my skirt toward me, and watches with a smirk as I shimmy back into it.
“If you’re free tomorrow,” he says, “I can leave some tickets for you at the box office. You can bring a friend if you want.”
I pause, fingers hovering over the buttons to my shirt. He can’t be serious. He’s just being nice. I force myself to smile. “Thanks. I’d like that.”
But I know what’ll happen. I’ll get a free hockey game, and no phone call. Nothing more.
I slip out of his condo as quickly as I can, trying to ride this high, but thinking all too much about the coming crash.
I’m practically skipping out the door as I chug my protein shake and slide into my hired car. Fiona Callahan. Fiona of the acid tongue and ferocious tits and hips that won’t quit and crafty, crafty mind. My god, she was incredible—just what I was hoping she would be. A little timid, a little uncertain in her role on top, but she more than made up for it with her enthusiasm.
I can still hear her delightful little gasp, ringing through my skull. Perfection. I need more.
Okay, so maybe the sex was a little more vanilla than I’d hoped. Not a problem. Everyone’s got to start somewhere. She has all the makings of a top-notch domme. She’s a natural, after all—always eager to put me in my place and hold me back, so we’d do things on her terms. Her timetable.
And the look in her eyes when she pinned my wrists back and told me— Not yet .
It’s nearly enough to get me hard
“You’re mine now,” I tell him. Then, remembering what he said earlier—“Slut.”
He laughs darkly to himself as he slides inside of me. God damn, he feels incredible, pressing tight against my walls. I run my hands along the gorgeous dark brown row of muscled abdomen before me and cup my palms around his shoulders.
“You feel heavenly.” Marcus grips my hips and thrusts up into me. My head spins, delirious, as pleasure rocks through me at his thrust.
“So do you.”
“I want to feel you come.” His gaze bores into mine as he grips me harder—hard enough to leave a bruise. But I don’t mind. It only adds to the pleasure, lacing it with a sweet sting.
“So make me,” I tease.
He smirks, tightens his hold, and thrusts up into me like a goddamned piston.
Oh, my god. He finds just the right spot to drive me wild, slamming into it again and again. I gasp, trying to catch my breath, but my climax rises like a tidal wave to swallow me up.
I cry out, arching forward, hands going slack on his shoulders. His thrusts continue until he’s taut as a bowstring beneath me. Marcus grits his teeth and groans right in my ear as I slump forward on his chest. Then peppers kisses against my ear.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, slinging both arms around my waist. “Absolutely stunning.”
I start to stand, but he holds me tighter. It’s a weird and wonderful feeling. Most guys are practically shoving me out of bed the minute they get what they want. But Marcus nestles his nose against my throat, tender and sweet.
It’s a little wonderful.
And a little scary.
“I—I’m sorry. I really can’t stay . . .”
“You’re sure?” His lashes flutter against my cheek. “I’ve got a really comfy bed. Way better than this rug.”
I laugh, but already my stomach is wringing itself out. He can sweet talk me all he likes, but I know the end result will be the same. By morning, he’ll have forgotten my name. Forgotten how much he claimed he liked to be underneath me.
It never changes. I’m a novelty. Not a girlfriend. No guy can withstand my forcefulness for long.
“Maybe some other time,” I say, though I taste the bitterness in the words. I know they won’t come true. “Early class tomorrow.”
He sighs, and his arms go slack. “Okay. I understand.”
Reluctantly, I stand up, and excuse myself to the restroom. After I’ve cleaned myself up, I return to the living room. Marcus holds out my skirt toward me, and watches with a smirk as I shimmy back into it.
“If you’re free tomorrow,” he says, “I can leave some tickets for you at the box office. You can bring a friend if you want.”
I pause, fingers hovering over the buttons to my shirt. He can’t be serious. He’s just being nice. I force myself to smile. “Thanks. I’d like that.”
But I know what’ll happen. I’ll get a free hockey game, and no phone call. Nothing more.
I slip out of his condo as quickly as I can, trying to ride this high, but thinking all too much about the coming crash.
I’m practically skipping out the door as I chug my protein shake and slide into my hired car. Fiona Callahan. Fiona of the acid tongue and ferocious tits and hips that won’t quit and crafty, crafty mind. My god, she was incredible—just what I was hoping she would be. A little timid, a little uncertain in her role on top, but she more than made up for it with her enthusiasm.
I can still hear her delightful little gasp, ringing through my skull. Perfection. I need more.
Okay, so maybe the sex was a little more vanilla than I’d hoped. Not a problem. Everyone’s got to start somewhere. She has all the makings of a top-notch domme. She’s a natural, after all—always eager to put me in my place and hold me back, so we’d do things on her terms. Her timetable.
And the look in her eyes when she pinned my wrists back and told me— Not yet .
It’s nearly enough to get me hard
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