Chapter 3 #2
His gloved fingers traced firm patterns down the front of her thigh, the skirt falling as his hand moved south only to be lifted again as he went back to teasing her hip. All the while, he held her other leg up, knee hooked over his forearm.
“Stop looking at me like that, Brown Eyes.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want me to kiss you.”
Her shoulders tensed as she jerked her gaze away from his lips. She hadn’t been consciously thinking that, but she had been staring at his mouth. Embarrassment muted her arousal. The sexy position he’d forced her into now felt awkward.
“I don’t expect you to kiss me,” she whispered.
“Good. I have other plans for your mouth.”
Still embarrassed, she pointedly didn’t look at him but stared over his shoulder, only now realizing there were people in the courtyard.
Of course there were. The club would be full tonight as it had been last night due to the game.
She watched couples and groups settling into the heavy wood outdoor furniture.
Making their way to the dining room or library.
Cole had her against the wall in an out-of-the-way spot, the closest playroom door halfway down the long open-air hallway that faced the courtyard.
“No.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “When you’re with me, you’re with me.”
“Then don’t say things that make me feel stupid.”
An expression that might have been chagrin passed over his features, there and gone in a blink.
She must have imagined it because he smirked, gaze sliding down to her breasts.
He planted his hand beside her ear and leaned in, forcing contact from shoulders to hips.
She felt the warm leather of his pants with their thick laces against her mound.
“Maybe this game wasn’t a stupid idea after all,” he whispered in her ear.
Then he leaned back, abruptly putting space between them and fully exposing her to the night air. Now, instead of his body pinning her to the wall, she was balanced on the toes of one foot and anchored to the wall by the leg still hooked over his arm.
The hand that had teased her thigh dropped between them, to the place where her skirt hid nothing at all.
Fingers brushed her pussy lips.
She expected teasing, playing.
What she got was one thick, gloved finger thrust up into her. Mara pushed up higher on her toes, a sharp gasp of shock and pleasure ripped from her. This man she’d known for less than a day, spent no more than two hours with total, had his finger inside her.
He’d pushed her against the wall, forced her legs open, and was finger-fucking her.
No negotiation, no warning. Just him taking control of her body. Possessing and playing with something he clearly felt he had rights over.
It should have been shocking, and it was, but not in a horrified way. It was shocking how close to orgasm she was, how hot and desperate she felt because of just how…unrestrained…he was.
Cole finger-fucked her hard, deep thrusts that pressed his knuckles into her vulva.
“More,” she breathed, thoughts muted under the liquid heat that rolled through her like a slow wave.
He added a second finger, thrusting mercilessly. He was a big man with big hands, and she felt the pinch of being stretched. Filled.
His fingertips curled, hooking inside her as he switched to short, punishing thrusts.
That liquid warmth heated further, a fire now. A burning desperate thing that made her moan with need. Mara grabbed him, fingers digging into his biceps as the pleasure grew.
It crested, peaked, her whole body going tense. He drew out the orgasm, fingers hooked and mercilessly rubbing the sensitive spot inside her. Her pussy clenched down on him so hard, she swore she could feel the seams of the gloves.
Then it ebbed, heat retreating liked waves pulled back on the tide.
She went limp against the wall, too much of her body weight on the leg hooked over his forearm. That foot was going numb.
She wanted to put her leg down. She wanted to rest the aching calf muscle of the other leg. She wanted to sit somewhere and bask in the afterglow, then obsessively analyze why and how she’d just had a penetration-only orgasm when that was far from normal for her.
Cole didn’t let her go. He showed no signs of dropping her leg or letting her rest.
He continued to leisurely finger-fuck her as if she were his plaything, and her pussy his favorite toy.
The relief of that first orgasm was short-lived as the burning need she’d thought was gone turned out to be only temporarily muted. There were orgasms that felt like the end, and orgasms that felt like the first stop.
She would have happily accepted that as the end, as enough.
Cole had decided this was the second kind. The first stop on a path he’d chosen, and that she would willingly walk, even crawl, with him.
After another minute, her breathing slowed and she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. She wondered if he could see how dangerously accepting she was of whatever he would do next.
Cole drew his fingers from her pussy, wiping them against her mons. It was almost embarrassing how wet his gloves were.
Maybe she was wrong; this was the end. Mara lowered her gaze, staring down at the top of her own tits lifted high by the corset.
He slowly lowered her leg, keeping his hand on her to steady her. That small sign of caretaking shouldn’t have made her throat tight, but it did.
She was still clutching his arms, and after a moment released him.
“Um…thank you.” Mara winced, feeling stupid.
If this had been a normal scene, she would have known what to do, what to say. But what had just happened was something else, something born of the power exchange but stripped of the elegance of a true D/s scene.
Cole huffed in amusement, but his eyes were bright and hard. He grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand to his crotch and molding her palm against the hard, hot bulge of his erection.
“Brown Eyes, you have three minutes to find a pillow and somewhere to kneel, or you’re getting on your knees right here on the concrete.”
Mara’s gaze jerked up to his. Her fingers cupped him, pressing in just a little, and she both saw and heard his breath catch.
An old familiar feeling of power slid through her, but when he looked pointedly at the floor of the hallway, she yanked her hand back and raced for the basket of floor cushions in the open-air courtyard.
Mara grabbed one of the heavy, thick cushions, looking around for an empty chair or private spot in the large courtyard which was divided up into smaller areas by massive pots of tall native plants and screens of vines that grew up into the overhead beams, creating a verdant roof in some spots.
Groupings of furniture were tucked into the leafy alcoves, but where she stood now was a large empty area in front of the low platform that served as a stage.
She was still standing there, looking around when she ran out of time.
Cole’s hand fisted in her hair. She jerked in surprise, the heavy cushion falling to the ground.
Using his hold on her hair, Cole forced her to her knees on the cushion and yanked her head back so she was looking up at him.
“Finger-fucking your tight little cunt has me on edge, Brown Eyes. Open that mouth.”
Breathing fast and shallow, Mara parted her lips as she stared up at him.
He released her hair, using both hands to yank open the laces of his pants.
She had a moment to study his cock, the tip already wet.
It was thick and so erect, it almost touched his belly.
Even in the low light of the courtyard, she could see the thick vein along the underside. She wanted to trace it with her tongue.
Cole yanked a condom from his pocket and rolled it on, pumping his cock a few times, before wrapping his fist around the base and angling the tip down toward her face.
Mara waited obediently on her knees, mouth open, ready.
His big hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her forward.
His cock tapped her cheek and then it was at her lips.
She’d braced herself for him to thrust all the way in with that first stroke, but he was gentler with her mouth than he had been with her pussy, gliding the head of his cock over her tongue.
She sealed her lips around him, cheeks hollowing as she sucked while tonguing the line of the vein.
“Fuck,” he snarled.
Knowing what was coming, Mara gripped his leather-covered thighs and braced herself.
Instead of thrusting deeper, he withdrew.
Cole’s cock pulled out with a pop. She licked her lips—tasting the unidentifiable fruit-flavored lube that was on the condom—and looked up.
He studied her with an almost-angry expression, but the need that glittered in his eyes made her feel both soft and bold.
Holding his gaze, she stuck out her tongue, flicking it against his tip.
Approval flashed in Cole’s eyes and he released his cock, grabbed her head with both hands, and thrust.
His cock hit the back of her throat and didn’t stop, not until she choked on it. Mara swallowed against the gag reflex, but his cock was in her throat, stopping the swallow. Her nails dug into his leather-covered thighs.
He pulled back and she swallowed hard then sucked in a breath before he thrust in again.
The first dozen thrusts were hard and deep, but slow. Measured.
He didn’t just fuck her mouth but her throat. He used her, forced himself inside her fast past the point of casual oral sex.
His cock was in her throat, her nose pressed to his pelvis, and his balls against her chin. His hands held her head in place, his fingers covering her ears and muting the ambient murmur of the other people in the courtyard. People who were no doubt watching her get face fucked.
Her nose started to run, and her eyes were watering. Her chin was wet with spit, and each time he pulled out, she made desperate sounds—gagging and hard inhales.
“You’re a fucking mess, Brown Eyes.”
It was an accusation and praise.
She raised her gaze to his face. Some distant part of her wanted to counter, to tell him it was his fault she was a mess, and how dare he look at her with that curl to his upper lip.
That part of her mind retreated as he once more forced his cock into her mouth and then down her throat. The voice that was always analyzing, worrying, thinking, got to sit down and rest, to clock out and be still as this stranger used her.
With another curse, the rhythm changed, shallow and fast. It was too fast, too raw, for her to focus on anything but keeping her tongue over her lower teeth so they didn’t scrape him. Now, he wasn’t holding her head still but pulling her forward and back in sync with his thrusts.
She was lost in the moment, eyes closed, sounds muffled, her chin wet with spit, and pussy clenching in time with his thrusts.
His rhythm changed—faster, not as deep. Stuttering and uneven.
Then he thrust in deep one final time, holding her head as his fingertips pressed and released against her scalp like a cat’s claws. She gagged, fingers digging into his legs as his cock twitched. She wished she could feel his come, wished she were forced to swallow it down.
He released her head, but she stayed obediently in place, his cock down her throat, her diaphragm working in an effort to inhale. She’d stay right here, his cock in her throat, until he was done with her. She trusted, stupidly no doubt, that he’d pull back before she passed out.
A hand in her hair jerked her head back, her scalp prickling with pain. A punishing touch paired with praise.
“Good.”
She wiped her eyes with her fingers and blinked up at him.
It was gratifying, the way his chest still heaved as he rubbed one palm over his short hair.
“Fuck, look at you.”
She wondered what she looked like there on her knees, mouth still parted, face damp, body barely covered by the sheer lingerie.
“Scoot.”
Mara blinked, confused, but when he crouched, she shifted to one edge, and Cole dropped to sit with her on the large cushion, his broad back pressed to her arm.
She rolled off her knees onto her butt then leaned against him.
Back-to-back, they didn’t say anything until their breathing had evened out.
“Unrestrained…” she mused, voice husky and throat sore.
Behind her, Cole laughed.