The Penance of Black Betty by Kelli Maine

smelled herself on his face. She reached down and untied his swim trunks. Her hand pressed against his hard erection. She loved the feel of it aching to be inside her. He helped her shove his trunks down then kicked them off. Bethany took him in hand and stroked his length. His skin was hot and soft, his head wide and eager. She didn’t want to wait any longer.
                  “Do we need…?” She couldn’t remember if she was on the pill. She hadn’t taken one in the past week though.
                  “I’ve got it.” Quickly, he reached inside a travel case on the nightstand and pulled out a condom. It took him only seconds to roll it on.
                  “What’s my favorite position?” Bethany asked, avoiding looking him in the eye.
                  He rolled on top of her, spreading her legs with his knees and brushed her hair back from her face. “Look at me.”
                  She did. As soon as her eyes met his, he pushed inside her. She arched up, her breasts pressed against his chest. He leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes never wavering from hers. His thrusts were fast and deep. She heard the little whimpers escaping her throat, but couldn’t believe they were coming from her. Her hands clenched his ass, urging him on. Who was this woman inside her? This woman obsessed with Alistair Ingram?
                  She felt herself clench deep inside. He ground his hips against hers and groaned. They were both so close, about to fall over the edge. “Don’t hold back,” he said, and thrust in fast bursts that made her see stars.
                  The incredibly fast friction was more than she could stand. “God! It’s—I—oh!” She came hard, contracting around him. He kept thrusting, deeper, purposeful, panting until he let out a deep groan of release.
                  Alistair lowered himself beside her and pulled her into him, both of them wet with sea water, sweat and sex. “Well?” he asked. “Did anything come back to you?”
                  She looked up into his eyes and a flash of a memory hit her. “You in the shower. Wet. Naked. I’m with you.”
                  He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her lips. “Several times.” He kissed her softly.
                  “How about now?” She couldn’t believe how bold she was being. Maybe she had been a dominatrix once she got away from Trent.
                  “Sounds like a bloody good idea to me, Sweet Girl.”
                  “Sweet Girl? Is that what you call me?”
                  He shook his head, a melancholy smile touched his lips. “It is now.”
                   
     
                   
     
                   
     
                  TWELVE
     
                   
                  She was a sweet girl—now. Alistair’s Bethany—Black Betty—wasn’t sweet. She could be, when she was spent and lying open beneath him, but it was fleeting. This girl—this Bethany—was sweet. She did something to his soul, to his heart and he felt like he was cheating.
                  It was ridiculous. She was her—one and the same—Bethany Stavars. Still, her personality was so changed, it was hard not to think he was with someone entirely different.
                  He loved her still. What made her the woman he couldn’t leave Vegas without was still here in her core, just buried a bit deeper. He glimpsed it when she let herself go on top of him, against his mouth. She took without apology. That was his woman.
                  This Bethany’s shy femininity spoke to him, made him want to take control. Protect. No wonder she had been a submissive ten years earlier. He wondered what she’d think of the collar she’d given him with his initials engraved in