Chapter 6

Relieved, Moira reached down, swam her fingers in her entrance, then brought them to her mouth and licked them. “I’m done. Baked to the center. All gooey goodness.”

He grabbed her hand and forced it between her legs to swipe her wet folds again; then, he brought her fingers to his mouth. He took them all inside, sucking so hard she felt the pull all the way to her toes, sympathy pulses that tugged at her core.

And while he sucked her fingers, he thrust two digits into her, swirling deep and bringing down moisture. When he pulled them free, she cried out. He lifted her thighs, forced her knees straight, and bent them to drape over his shoulders. He traced a damp finger past her pussy to her smaller entrance. He circled a finger around and around, and she forced herself not to tighten in rejection. She’d had enough teasing, enough intimate caresses. She was aroused already. So tightly wound she could scream. She would if he entered her there.

She couldn’t help glancing down between their bodies to where his fingers played. Without thought, she splayed her thighs wider, providing them both an unimpeded view. He turned his hand, the palm facing upward, and slowly inserted a moist digit into her ass, wiggling it and swirling, opening her slowly.

She clenched around him, holding him there, enjoying the fullness of his large finger for a moment until he began to pump it slowly in and out. And then she couldn’t watch anymore because the corners of his mouth were curving upward.

He knew how much she loved the rawness. They barely knew each other, but already she’d allowed so much. She’d let him cut straight to the crudest act, where pure fucking wasn’t dirty. At least not to her, no matter how energetic her partner.

“We have a little issue here.”

Her eyelids had been floating downward with pleasure, but she lifted them again, revealing his one-sided smile. “What issue?”

“I like where my finger is, but with your ankles hugging my neck, I can’t manage to get my cock where I need it to be without removing something else.”

She bit her lip and blinked innocently. “Do you want my help?”

“Do you mind?”

So politely said, like coworkers trying to get huge boxes through a narrow door. She shook her head bemused. He wanted her to somehow angle her body between his thrusting hand and his upright cock to take him inside? Oh, she could, but not without fumbling to get there. She guessed he wasn’t going to allow her to put her feet on the mattress for leverage. “Don’t suppose…?” she said, moving one foot away from his neck.

But he gave a firm shake of his head. “You figure it out.”

The sooner she did, the better. His finger was lodged deeper now, and the way he moved the base in a wider circle, he was loosening her to take another. She didn’t know if she could accept a second finger and not come. Already, her pucker was on fire.

So she wriggled this way and that, arching and bending her back, trying to get her pussy low enough to cup the tip of his cock to capture it. If she could just push it down an inch or two, a few more wriggles should work him deep inside…

She glanced at his face to find him blinking, his smile bemused.

Wanting to deflect him so he didn’t outright laugh at her predicament, she aimed a glare below where his finger was plunging in and out of her ass. “Is it because it’s hot?”

“It’s because it makes you hot.” He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Sweetheart, you do have two hands…”

Maybe it was because she so often trained with her wrists restrained that she’d forgotten, but she didn’t mind his chuckles as she blushed, her cheeks and breasts no doubt fire-engine red, and eagerly reached between her legs to grip him with both hands. Only then she discovered she was in no hurry to tuck him away inside her when her palms glided along his silky sides.

Lightly, she wrapped the fingers of one hand around him, measuring his girth. She liked his thickness. Even through the latex, she liked the feel of the thick veins that tracked up and down the sides of his shaft. Her pussy constricted as she imagined feeling every ridge and bump sliding into her channel.

He gave a growl and thrust through her fist. “Enough playing.”

She gave him a narrowed glance and another tight pump and shivered when his glare grew harder.

“Put it in your cunt.”

Her jaw dropped a notch, and she sucked in a deep breath. Everything moistened. Her eyes. Her pussy. He could be trained. With a firm grip, she pointed the head of his cock right at her entrance and rubbed it against her clit.

“Slut.”

He gave her the word in a tight, soft voice that said he’d gritted it out because it didn’t come naturally. It was enough. Just right. She pushed him between her lips and pulled his dick to bring him deeper, taking him inside.

With her heels digging into the backs of his shoulders, Coop knew Moira was right fucking there . So was he. He grimaced as he slammed his hips forward, forcing her to withdraw her hands. With one hand cupping her rump to hold her at the height he needed and fingers still pumping into her ass, he was a little too busy to concentrate. Ambidextrous, he was not. It was hard to keep on task.

Calling her slut had made her expression soften, her lips poutier. The word had done something to him, too.

It had made him powerful and then immediately remorseful, ashamed for feeling that way. She wanted it, but he wasn’t comfortable giving it. His upbringing, which required that he always treat a woman like a lady, even when she wasn’t behaving like one, might be a little too ingrained.

Still, his remorse didn’t soften his dick one iota. Gazing down at her, he found he was searching her face for clues, looking for indications he was getting this right, giving her what she needed—something he usually took for granted with his partners because what he brought had always seemed to be enough.

With Moira, he wasn’t sure. For one thing, she wasn’t sinking her nails into him. Her hands were curled beside her head, her gaze clinging to his face, begging him silently. He wanted to ask her what she needed but sensed she didn’t want to direct him. He’d have to figure this out himself. Go with his gut.

Only once had his gut failed him.

He swallowed, halting his motions. He stared down at her and a drop of sweat trickled from his hairline down his cheek to his nose, and then plopped on her cheek.

Moira angled her face and swiped the droplet as it veered toward her mouth.

It was sexy as hell. He was driving into two of her three orifices and staring at the third. She was his. He could take her any way he wanted. And she was waiting…for what? To see whether he was worthy? Whether he’d figure her out?

He remembered the dude on the stage at La Forge. The one with the ridiculous saw-blade hair. He’d been in control, and while he’d paddled the woman and burned her skin, he’d never been too crude about it. Never made her an object. His tone had remained intimate, respectful, even when he’d called her slut .

He’d given her what she’d wanted— no, needed —and never taken a thing from her, except perhaps the pleasure of knowing he’d given Britney pleasure.

Coop wanted to be like that. Wanted to see Moira’s eyes flare with pleasure and respect. He wanted her to trust him. For her to know that if she fell through the roof, he’d catch her.

He bowed his head, dropping it to lie against her shoulder to hide his face, seeking privacy while he came to terms with his emotions.

Grief was still there at the fleeting, unwanted thought of that roof and the black cloud of smoke that had burned his eyes to tears. He hadn’t failed Danny. He knew it in his heart. Danny’s death had been out of his control. Lack of control was the crux of his problem.

The woman beginning to quiver beneath him was a gift he didn’t deserve but one he wasn’t about to refuse. She was giving him the means to take back control, if only for the short time they were together. She was willing to let him take charge, take her wherever he wanted in any way he desired. She’d offered him only her unequivocal submission.

The thought was combustive to his libido but also a sweet balm to his soul.

He lifted his head to find her wide silver-gray eyes staring at him. “Close your eyes, baby. I’ll be right back.”

He left her after arranging her with her knees raised and splayed, her hands stretched above her head. She’d sighed with relief when he’d stretched her arms and groaned when he’d slightly hyper-extended them. Her nipples were rigid pricks, and he gave one a tweak before he rolled off the bed.

After washing his hands, he gathered a couple of towels Christa hadn’t bothered taking because they were tattered at the edges. He found his flat hairbrush. A glance at the mirror brought him still for a minute. The man he’d been was reflected there—in the cocky tilt of his jaw, in the dark, gleaming eyes.

Back inside the bedroom, he searched his closet, reaching a hand to pat one high shelf until he found the nylon rope he’d used for rappelling when climbing rock faces had been for fun rather than work. He found a tie the same color as her silver eyes. He entered the bathroom and plucked condoms from the box in the drawer. Thank God, Christa hadn’t taken those, too. Then he walked back toward the bed.

He liked how she looked, her chest quivering with anticipation. Her pussy was moist. He flipped the slats of the blinds to let more sunlight inside and then bent to grip the bed frame, scraping the posts along the bamboo floor to move the bed to the center of the room where it belonged—a stage for him to play on.

“Don’t look.”

She bit her lower lip and then let it go. “I won’t. Sir.”

This time, the word didn’t strike him as obscene or even silly. His cock bobbed. Obviously, part of him approved.

He went to work, climbing onto the bed on his knees and tying the rope to one post. He wound it around her wrist, not so tightly she couldn’t escape if she really wanted to, but tightly enough to give her the sensation of being trapped and controlled. “Roll onto your belly.”

She moved quickly and didn’t complain when her arms crossed. He wrapped her wrists together and then moved to the opposite post to loop the rope over it and drop the remaining coil to the floor. Then he straddled her soft bottom and slid the tie beneath her face. He tied it behind her head and sat back, staring at when he’d done.

The sight of her, wrists bound and blindfolded, tightened his balls, brought them uncomfortably snug against his groin. He climbed off her body and reached to the floor for the hairbrush.

He’d work his way up to this, the same way Anton had worked his way up to dripping molten wax atop Britney’s sweet curves.

Hardening his voice, he said, “Come up on your knees.”

Her fingers tried to clutch the rope, but the ends leading away were stretched too far to the sides, so she leaned into the binding and came up on her knees, moving up the bed to relieve the strain on her wrists.

“Not too tight?” he asked, just to be sure.

“No, they don’t bite.”

He went to her side, reached beneath her to cup one and then the other breast to give them firm squeezes. “I like your tits,” he said. “I’ll spend time with them, I promise. But right now, I want to love your ass.”

She hissed between her teeth. Her knees shifted, thighs clenching. She knew what he was going to do, and it excited her. He roamed his hands over her torso, above and below, caressing her skin, learning her curves, arriving at her buttocks—lush, fleshy globes. He was glad she wasn’t too thin, preferring an ample, feminine butt. Shoving against it, pounding it, would be pure pleasure.

He lifted a hand, noted her indrawn breath, and let it fall. The strike was harder than he’d intended and stung his fingers. When he lifted his hand, her skin was red, displaying a pronounced outline of his fingers and palm.

He almost apologized, but her back sank, and she gave an agonized groan. Not pain-filled—pleasure-drunk.

He was glad he hadn’t hurt her, but he still gauged his next strikes to be a little less harsh, paddling her with enthusiasm, warming every inch of her ass and the backs of her thighs. Copious trickles of arousal wet her pussy. A tempting target he couldn’t resist. He curved his palm to lessen the impact while heightening the sound as he clapped his hand against her pussy.

This time she squirmed, mewing like a kitten, moving her ass left then right, playing at avoiding his swats, but lifting her bottom to invite more.

Her sex was swollen and red. Beautiful.

He bent and ran his tongue through her folds, tasting her musk, liking the salty, sea-fresh flavor. “You’re so hot. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, please, Sir,” she said, bucking to push her face against his mouth.

He pulled away, picked up the hairbrush, and held his breath as he hit her with the flat plastic back across the fleshiest part of her ass.

Her back arched, and she screamed. She flung her head back and froze. A sob followed a shudder that shook her from shoulders to quivering knees.

The mark he left was raised and red. For a moment, he froze, too. Horrified at what he’d done.

“Please, Sir,” she said in a small, breathless voice. “ More . Please, more.”

Freed, and so relieved he felt moisture gather in his eyes, he pressed one hand against her hip to hold her still and stroked her bottom in sharp little passes that left lovely pink welts atop her already reddened skin. The scent of her arousal grew stronger, her sobs deeper, but she never moved away, never begged him to stop, until…

“Enough.”

He heard her surrender in the ragged texture of her softly spoken plea.

He tossed away the brush, then bent and gently smoothed his mouth over her hot flesh, offering kindness now, giving her his silent thanks for what she’d given him. Release. Trust. A chance to deliver pain and experience it through her.

“Was it too much?” he whispered.

“No.”

He kissed a hot welt, heard her hiss, and so licked it, and blew across her skin to cool it. “I’ve never done this. Never left a mark before.”

“Sometimes, I need it.”

He scraped his cheek across her bottom. “Why?”

Her shrug stretched her shoulders. “I don’t know. Orgasms used to be hard for me to achieve with a partner. A friend suggested it.”

Although he’d found his own dark pleasure while spanking her, he wasn’t sure he could stomach doing it often. “Is it something you have to have to reach orgasm?”

She shook her head. “My friend thinks it’s like opening a door. That I have to trust my partner enough to let it happen. That inside me, I’m always wondering if he’s going to turn on the pain or not. It keeps me…edgy…excited.”

He licked her seam, enjoying the way her cunt spasmed, tightening against his tongue. “Makes you wet,” he muttered.

He reached for the rope, loosening one side enough to release her hands. Then he turned her onto her back. Lying beside her, he smoothed a hand from her breast to her mound and kept his hand cupping it, warming it. He nuzzled her ear. “Would I be an ass to order you to blow me now?”

Her breath caught. “You would.”

“But you like that.”

“I do.”

He sat up and leaned against the headboard. Then, he fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her up. The sight of her, his tie tight around her eyes, head canted to ease his grip, pleased him. Maybe he was one of those who had a drop of Neanderthal somewhere back in his genetic line, but he liked her wince—loved the way her neck arched and her breasts thrust out. The tips were erect. An invitation. He leaned toward her, tongued one, and sucked it deep into his mouth, teething the base and sucking more of her breast inside until his mouth was filled, and he was groaning with pleasure.

Moira wished she could sink her fingers into her pussy. He already had her hot. He had her channel rippling, ready to accept his thrusts. But here he was, taking his sweet time as he burrowed against her breast, shaking his head like a puppy at a bitch’s teat, trying to take her deeper.

She wished she could see him sucking her there. She’d like to know his expression, figure out what he was thinking…about her…but knew he needed her blindfolded. It gave him the freedom to act out his fantasies and to experiment without having to worry about whether he betrayed any doubts or indecision. And it wasn’t as though she wasn’t delirious with the pleasure he was giving her.

When he pulled free, she was sobbing again, little whimpers at the end of each breath. Her breast felt ravaged, raw, and deliciously used.

Slowly, he tugged her face downward. “I want it deep. I want to feel your lips pulling like a damn Hoover.”

She held back a smile, and when her lips met the end of his cock, she latched on to him, greedy for a taste. But the hand in her hair only let her sink so far. So, she teased him, rimming his head with her tongue, around and around, her lips fastening just beneath the ridge of his glans and suctioning gently, just enough, she was sure, to drive him crazy, but not enough to give him nearly the sensation he craved.

She was good at this. The best. Or so Anton had often told her, and he’d had plenty of women sucking him off to know.

He curved his fingers, pulling harder on her hair to the point tears burned her eyes and seeped into the silk, and then he slowly released her. “Use your hands. Touch my balls.”

Freed, she went to work, sinking down and then up, touching the back of her throat against his cock head before darting back. Yes, she could deep-throat him, but she wasn’t hungry enough to try. Not just yet.

She came off him and trailed her tongue down his length, licking at his base. She moved on to his balls. They were as hard as steel Ben Wa balls and cloaked in a velvety sack. Her hunger built, and she licked and sucked them, drawing them into her mouth to tug and mouth until his thighs shifted, and she knew he was ready for her to move again. Reluctantly, she let them pop free.

With a secret smile, she lifted them, then bent lower until her cheek was against the mattress to lave the tender skin just behind his balls. She licked it and sucked it, leaving a love bite that made him a jerk. Only then, when she was satisfied she’d tortured him enough, did she come back to his cock.

She knew how she must look. Her mouth and the surrounding skin were red and wet. She licked her lips, a slow swipe to draw his gaze and give him a moment to prepare before she bent over him, her fist holding him erect. She sank down his length, letting him glide slowly over her tongue and touch the back of her throat. She swallowed, once, twice, giving his head a sexy caress that had him sucking in a sharp breath. And then she opened her jaw, relaxed her throat, and sank deeper, circling to take him inside her all the way until her nose bumped his groin. Then up and down, up and down she went, her lips getting tighter and tighter. Her suctioning grew gradually in intensity until her cheeks and mouth ached with the effort.

But it was worth it. At last, his hips moved, lifting to spear her mouth. His hands roamed her head, fingers threading gently through her hair, tugging on her now and then as he lost himself to the pleasure.

Moira smiled inwardly, happy to please him, happy to serve, growing hotter and hotter as his scent filled her nose and his taste became the most favorite thing she’d ever savored in her mouth.

At last, she felt him sneak his hands under her mouth to ring his cock at the base, squeezing and groaning. Forestalling his orgasm. She licked his fingers, and he laughed. “Enough. Jesus. Fuck.”

She lifted her head, waiting. He tugged off her blindfold, and she blinked in the brightness of the room.

His cheeks were red, his jaw so tight she’d bet he could chew nails. His acute need was apparent. And she was a nurse, wasn’t she? She soothed away aches.

“Sir, would you like me to ride you?”

His chest billowed, but he held out his arms.

She climbed over him, sliding her breasts up his belly, landing against the nest of soft hair on his chest. She rubbed against him, enjoying the gentle chafing.

“You know you’re killing me, right?”

She gave him a mischievous grin. “I was that good?”

“An unexpected treasure.”

She doubted he ever talked to a woman so poetically, so she believed his compliment. “I love your cock.”

“Mind giving it some relief?”

She wrinkled her nose. “The vigorous kind, or something slow and melting?”

“I’ll leave it up to you for a while.” Then he reached to the side and picked up a small plastic-wrapped packet.

She made a show of cloaking him and then lifting herself high to fit him against her. She let her head fall back, and her hair feathered her back and his thighs before she landed against his groin.

The feel of him, so hard and so deep, filling her empty space so completely, made her next breaths ragged.

Hands cupped her breasts. Callused palms. She jounced once on his cock and gave him a desperate look. “I don’t think I can do this. I can’t…” Hell, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but quiver. Her pussy clenched hard around him and then released, already pulsating. She was close. Too close.

He clamped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed her clit. Giving it a hard pinch. The sting arrested her orgasm.

Rearranging his knees, he bent toward her while keeping her pinned with his cock. He took her down to the bed.

Moira moved her legs, opening them, lifting them, letting them fall as wide as she could manage while her toes curled in the air.

Already deep, he jerked up inside her and began grinding. Friction built a quick, hot fire and juiced up her channel. At the next spill of moisture, he pulled out halfway and thrust forward. His strokes began steady, slow, deliberate. Too measured.

She met his glance, took in his tight jaw, and knew he was barely holding on. She kissed his mouth, his cheek, and then nuzzled his ear. “I’m there, Coop. Right there,” she whispered. “And it’s going to be huge. I promise. Best ever.”

His thrusts quickened, and he pushed up, his chest hovering as he pounded her below. Not that she didn’t mind the distance. She liked the view. Loved watching his glistening, thick cock sink again and again inside her. His chest and abdomen fascinated her, too. The effort he expended caused the muscles to tense, displaying his male perfection. Unable to resist, she roamed her hands over him.

“Rub your clit,” he growled.

She shook her head. She’d come too fast. The pounding was another punishment, another form of spanking that heightened her pleasure and sent nerve endings tingling.

“Frig your clit, or I stop.”

“No,” she groaned. She was too close.

But his expression was implacable. She reached down a hand and slid a finger atop her clit. It was swollen and hot. Rigid to the touch. She brought her finger to her mouth, wet it, and did as he’d asked. Frigged it while he watched her, while he pounded harder and faster inside her pussy.

She couldn’t stop herself. She told him so.

“Not yet, baby. Not yet.”

Her head thrashed. “I’m there…fucking there. Please, Coop. Please, Sir.”

“No!” It was a husky bellow, strained.

She rocked her head again, staring up at him. He hammered her with his teeth bared. And then his eyelids dipped, his breath hitched. “Now. Come now.”

In an instant, she came hard, her back bowing. Her fingers drifted to his hips and scraped over his ass to feel the power behind his final thrusts. Her head felt as though it was exploding, her breathing stopped, and she keened between clenched jaws.

Her orgasm was painfully hard, deliriously beautiful—the end…a splash against concrete.

His arms were beneath her, holding her against his chest. His mouth was kissing her hair, her ear, and her cheek. When his mouth found hers, their lips rested, not greedy but replete, until finally, they shared a lazy, sensuous blending of lips.

Coop came up on his elbows and stared down at her. “You okay?” he asked, framing her face with his hands.

Her smile was feeble, she knew, but she could barely keep her eyes open. “Demolished,” she said. “Best fuck ever.”

His grin was wolfish as he waggled his eyebrows. “I have a confession to make.”

Her mouth quirked. “You’re secretly gay?” she said slyly.

“Not even bi,” he growled.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she teased. “I’d share.”

“I wouldn’t.”

She felt her smile freeze and was reminded that she was obligated to disclose her prior arrangement with Anton fully. “We still have tonight and tomorrow, right? You don’t have any other plans?”

His eyelids drifted halfway down. “No. What do you have in mind?”

More than he could ever envision, she was sure. Her gaze fell to the finger that traced his flat brown nipple. “I have this friend. She owns a lake house we can use. I have a key…”