Chapter 24 #3
“I’m not here because of a contract, Zinaida.” His hands splay over my belly, holding me, settling me. He puts his mouth to my ear. “I’m here because the woman behind the mask drives me fucking mad, and I’m done pretending I don’t want her.”
My entire body goes limp with relief and desire. I turn my face to his neck, touching my tongue to the tanned cords of muscle there. “Then don’t,” I whisper.
His mouth curls dangerously. “Oh, I think we both know we’re long past pretending.” He slides his hands back up to cover my breasts, and I moan. “Do you want my mouth on them, Zinaida?”
I nod frantically.
“Say it.”
I twist my head to him, and he catches my lips, kissing me with a lethal, controlled dexterity that leaves me fucking helpless. “Say it.”
“I want your mouth on my nipples,” I pant, arching in his grasp.
Spinning me around, he lifts me onto the vanity bench beneath the mirror, then takes my nipple in his mouth.
“Oh God!” I clutch his hair, pulling his face onto me, spreading my legs wide, but he doesn’t touch me there, no matter how much I squirm toward him.
His enormous hands hold me firmly in place, his tongue agonizingly slow but utterly thorough, plying one nipple until I’m close to coming before finally shifting to the other.
He keeps it up until I’m gasping his name and my legs are spread impossibly wide, begging for what I need. Then he takes his mouth away from my breasts and steps back, staring at me.
“Don’t move,” he says roughly, pulling off his shirt and kicking his pants aside, his cock jutting up to his belly. I suck in my breath as I stare at the glorious mountain of his body, the new tan lines showing over the old, his scars silver against the burnished bronze of his skin.
I wriggle out of my skirt, but when I reach for my stockings and suspenders, his hands close over my own. “Leave them on.”
He takes my hands and moves them to the bench, and I clutch it helplessly as his own hands slide up over my stockings and suspenders, his thumbs pressing my outer lips until I moan. He kisses me again, his thumbs slowly manipulating me until I could scream. “Please,” I pant.
He slips his mouth next to my ear. “Please what, Zinaida?”
The bastard. I’m literally dripping on his fingers. “You know what.”
“That isn’t how this works.” He pulls back, his hands going frustratingly still.
“Fuck you,” I mutter.
His smile is dark and dangerous. “Soon.”
He licks his lips, his eyes dipping down between my legs, and I take a dark satisfaction in seeing his cock surge. But his hands don’t stop their remorseless teasing, and when he speaks again, his voice is low and deadly. “I told you the first time: you’re not going to come until I tell you to.”
Then he slips my legs over his shoulders, and I bite down to change my scream to a moan.
If I thought his tongue was lethal on my nipples, it’s something else entirely between my legs.
Slow. Sure. A controlled ferocity that has me trembling and helpless beneath him, unable to think beyond the fatal artistry of his touch.
He holds me firmly in place until my fingers are twined in his hair, my body bucking against his mouth, and I’m so close to exploding the first tremors are already creeping up my spine.
“Oh!” My eyes roll back, my head falling against the mirror. “Yes,” I pant, my hips rising off the bench, lost to everything but his mouth covering me. “Oh, God—yes.”
“No.” Suddenly, his mouth is gone.
My eyes fly wide open to find him staring at me, and I shiver at the savagery I can see behind his carefully guarded control.
His large hands close around my hips and pluck me from the bench.
He turns me so I’m facing the mirror again and slowly bends me over, running his hands down my arms, guiding my hands to hold the edge of the bench, then stroking my body with exquisite sureness, all the way down my spine to my ass, his eyes never leaving mine in the mirror.
I gasp as he nudges my legs apart and hitches my ass against him.
I’m still wearing my stockings and suspenders, my stilettos discarded back on the floor in the cabin.
He strokes the curve of my ass, stroking his cock over my dripping heat and swollen clit until I’m trembling.
“Oh.” My head falls forward, my legs shaking. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
“Look at me,” he rasps, and I raise my eyes to his in the mirror.
One large hand splays possessively over the base of my spine, holding me in place.
The other cups my ass, his thumb resting so close to my clit I’m squirming for it.
His cock, impossibly huge, lies flat against the crack of my ass, infuriatingly far from where I need it.
“Do it.” I rise to my toes, trying to lift myself onto him. “Now. I want you inside me now.”
He holds me still easily, refusing to let me take what I need, his eyes boring into mine in the mirror.
“Do it,” I gasp. I’m mindless with desire, so close to orgasm I know I’ll come as soon as he enters me.
His eyes run over me, taking in every inch of flushed, swollen, dripping flesh, and his slight smile deepens into something very dark.
He steps back from me. “Turn around.” He doesn’t touch himself, and he doesn’t touch me.
Just stands there, eyeing me with that inscrutable fucking mask that has driven me insane from day one.
I stare at him in the mirror in disbelief. I want to scream at him to fuck me. I know he can see how turned on I am. And his furiously hard, throbbing cock tells me he is not at all unaffected by the sight.
“You bastard,” I say to his reflection.
He just grins.
Reluctantly, I turn.
“On your knees.”
Oh, fuck.
Gushing between my legs, I drop helplessly to my knees, staring up at him. He slips a thumb in my mouth, and I groan around it, staring at the throbbing length of him. He takes his thumb from my mouth and cups my face. I look up at him, hazy with lust.
His eyes glitter. “Open your mouth, Zinaida.”
He guides my mouth onto him, and I hear his harsh intake of breath as he slips between my lips.
I swallow half of him, my tongue swirling around the spongy head. He feeds me only inches at a time, withholding himself with a superhuman restraint that does fucking dangerous things to every part of me.
I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of him stretching my mouth, the hint of salt still lingering on his skin.
I grasp the tight cheeks of his ass, trying to force him further into my mouth.
Agonizingly slowly, he slides deeper. His thumbs touch my lips as I slide them down his cock, probing my mouth, and I moan around him as he goes as deep as I can take and holds there.
I look up to find him staring down at me, mouth pressed into a hard line, eyes dark as a storm.
He withdraws, then slowly enters my mouth again.
And again.
It’s an addictive taste of what is to come, a reminder of how fierce his control is, how ruthless his own discipline. Every time he slides back into my mouth I moan, hungry for more, utterly lost to sensation.
I can feel him swelling to bursting point, his thrusts becoming deep and insistent, and I suck him deep, urging him onward. Then, just as I’m sure he’s so close he will lose it completely, he pulls out of my mouth and turns me around again, positioning himself behind me.
“Do it,” I whisper, staring at him, and this time, we both know the game is up. My body feels ready to explode. And Luke is no longer smiling. There’s a barely controlled savagery in his face that makes me shiver as I grip the bench, bracing myself for the broad head poised at my entrance.
“Fuck.” He surges into me, pulling my hips back onto him, and I bite down hard to stifle my scream. He thrusts into me with relentless, sure strokes, driving us both mercilessly forward. His eyes drop to the swollen bud of my clit. “Touch yourself,” he growls.
My hand slips between my thighs, and I feel his slight tremor as I hit the spot and my pussy clenches around him.
He pulls me back hard against him, filling me completely, finding the place inside me that nothing but him ever has before, and I teeter on the edge.
He finds my eyes in the mirror, his hand slides over mine on my clit, and he holds still deep inside me, watching me in that endless moment of suspended pleasure, the exquisite moment when my body is poised on the crest of the wave.
“Come for me, Zinaida.” He moves his hand, just enough to throw me over the edge, and I almost bite through my lip to stop myself screaming.
As the waves come crashing down, he lets go, slamming into me with the fierce, powerful strokes that take him over the edge.
He surges deep, his cock pulsing jet after searing jet into me as my entire body seizes around him, clenching with a ferocity that seems never-ending.
He holds me hard against him as he rides the spasms, answering them with his own, his head back as he pumps to the last.