5. - – Jules #2
Fuck it. I grabbed my shirt, wrenching it over my head.
It landed with a splat. My bra followed.
I slid off my shorts, boots, and socks before his eyes returned to me in nothing but a thong, loose hair dripping on his hardwood floor, and willing to do whatever he demanded to quiet the need throbbing deep in my core.
He had all the power, still dressed. “Change your mind, Princess?”
“It’s only physical.”
Dean tipped his head and looked me up and down. “For now.”
“My body is all you get.”
He prowled toward me and paused, towering over me, but with Dean, I never felt him looking down on me. He licked his lips. “Done. Now, on your knees, Jules.”
To my utter shock, I kneeled without breaking eye contact. The sight and sounds of him undoing his jeans and pulling his hard cock out had wetness leaking down my thighs. The thong didn’t stand a chance of containing the effect he had on me.
“Open up.” He tapped the head of his dick to my lips.
I did. When the tip of his cock passed my lips, his salty goodness exploded on my tongue, making me whimper like a needy little slut.
For him, I would be. I was prepared to give him whatever he wanted.
Dean wrapped my hair in his hands and drove deeper down my throat.
I cupped his balls in response, evoking a hiss.
He stepped into me and placed a hand on the wall.
“Tap my leg if it’s too much.”
I moaned my consent, willing to let this man defile every hole I owned, but nothing could’ve prepared me for him savagely thrusting into my mouth.
He pumped in and out. Saliva ran down my chin and dripped to my exposed breasts.
I cried with need the faster and deeper he went.
I ached to be filled everywhere. Tears poured from my eyes, but I never stopped watching him ravage me.
“Fucking gorgeous, Jules. I knew you’d look amazing with my dick deep in your throat.”
I moaned at his praise.
“You’re doing so good. You going to make me come?”
I whimpered and cried for his cum. His thrusting increased. Faster. Deeper. I held my breath. My own wetness was starting to drip to the floor.
“Swallow it, Princess.”
I screamed around his thick length as he shoved all the way in and exploded with a primal roar, both hands back in my hair. He petted my hair as he pulled out, letting me finally swallow. With my first taste of him, how could I walk away?
“Princess, did you drip all over my floor?”
A flush of embarrassment crept up my chest and through my cheeks. My head dropped.
“Don’t,” Dean snapped. He bent, scooped me up, and tossed me over his shoulder.
“Dean—”
“My turn.”
Before I could process his words, he dropped me on a bed. I bounced. He grabbed my thong, and the sound of ripping material filled the air. In awe, I took him in.
“A riding crop?” I was hoarse.
“Yes, Princess. You need it.”
“I’m not a fucking horse, Dean!” I went to sit up, but he got out of his clothes and was on the bed faster than I could move. The riding crop was at the base of my throat.
“I know you’re not a horse. You’re mine. Like it or not, you’ve been mine for years.” He traced my breasts lightly with the crop. My treacherous nipples hardened. “You ride, but do you truly understand what the crop is for?”
“No.” It was a breathy and lust-filled reply.
“The crop is an extension of the rider’s leg to correct or steer the horse. It’s meant to be used to keep both the mount and horse safe. It’s not a punishment.”
With a featherlight touch, he dragged the crop between my breasts, over my navel, and stopped on my clit… then he pressed. I moaned.
“See an extension of me for your pleasure.”
“Please, Dean… I need more.”
When I said please, fire burned in his eyes. Dean lifted the crop and, with deadly precision, slapped my clit. I screamed—a sting followed by instant pleasure as an orgasm ripped through my body.
“Good fucking girl, Princess,” Dean growled and pushed my legs apart. He descended.
The first heated flick of his tongue, coupled with his deep groans, conjured the start of a second climax.
It shot from under my navel and tightened my internal walls.
Two fingers drove deep inside while he feasted, leaving me writhing and bellowing in bliss.
Dean slapped the crop to a nipple. More cries of ecstasy filled the room as a third wave swept me under.
A fucking extension of him indeed. Holy orgasmic heaven, this man was going to kill me via rapture.
Dean bit my clit and sucked. He curled his fingers and pumped in short, fast strokes.
A new sensation overtook me. There was too much pressure behind my pubic bone.
It was electrifying. His tongue quickened, making tiny circles over my clit.
What ended me was the quick-fire slaps from one nipple, then the next with the crop.
A dam broke. A euphoric howl shattered my lungs and bowed my back as a gush of fluid poured out of me, drenching his face and the bed.
Dean sat back, wearing a bemused smirk as cum trickled from his face to his sculpted, tattoo-covered chest.
“So dangerously delicious.” He wiped his face with a palm and rubbed my wetness into his massive erection. “You’ve kneeled and begged… Now it’s time to bow, Princess.”
Before his words registered, I was flipped to my belly, his hands on my hips yanked my ass into the air. “Face to the bed. Grab the headboard.”
I did as he commanded because, yeah, near-death by orgasm could make a woman bonelessly compliant, and I wanted—no needed—his cock. Fuck my pride. It didn’t matter with a man like Dean.
With his knees placed outside mine—he had my legs pinned together—head down, arms outstretched overhead, holding on for dear life as I offered up my cunt to the godly man behind me in a position of complete supplication.
“Princess?”
“Mmmm?”
“Birth control?”
“On it… no one… long time.” Words, what were those?
“Me either. Give me permission to take you raw.”
“Ye—” The word ended in a cry of both pleasure and pain.
Dean controlled all of me with his bruising grip on my hips when he pulled me back to impale me on his mind-altering cock. He paused.
“Good… great… perfect,” I panted and pushed back into him. The mountainous man didn’t move.
“Fuck, Princess, I can’t remember a time I didn’t want you… You were worth the wait.” He ran his fingertips in a worshipping touch from the base of my skull down my spine.
I murmured my admission into the bedding. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t want you.”
He squeezed my hips, confirmation he heard me. My body only—what bullshit. It was his first time inside my body, but he already owned my heart and soul—I’d never taken them back.
Dean kept caressing my back with his cock implanted inside my cunt, giving me time to open for him. “I must admit, you bowing for me is addictive.”
“More.”
“More what?”
“You… harder, faster, deeper… I want you.”
Dean pressed his pelvis into my ass. I whimpered. “Beg. For. Me.”
“Fuck. You.” I couldn’t help myself—old habits die hard.
“Tsk… You missed the mark on that one.” Dean slapped my ass with the crop. I flinched but grew wetter. “Hmmm—noted… My Princess likes to be spanked. Now, say please.”
I rocked back against him, but he leaned back with the movement and spanked me harder. “Fine! Please fuck me until I forget my name and can’t walk. Bet-ahhh?—”
He slammed into me hard, deep, and fast. I held onto the headboard. What a fucking ride. I didn’t want to admit it, but Dean was, in fact, breaking me like a horse. After this, there’d never be another man for me. Dean Lockwood ruined me and stole my heart in the process.