Knight's Mistress
Page 67

He saw the effort it took for her to obey, debated how much more he could expect from his playmate, whether he was pressing her too hard. A short debate, a quick decision. ‘There, see? Jewelled, sparkling nipples. You must be trying to attract my attention tricked out like that.’ Gripping her hips more firmly, he slid back in with compelling strength until he was fully submerged and she was chock-full and trembling. ‘How much more can you take?’ An ambiguous, perhaps meaningless question in his current mood.
Her eyes met his piercing gaze in the mirror. She forced herself to speak because he was waiting and she was still desperate for him. ‘You decide.’
He smiled at her. ‘You’re becoming a model student, Katherine. I’ll allow you another orgasm.’ He shifted into a languorous, methodical, perfectly positioned rhythm of thrust and withdrawal that never failed to press female orgasmic buttons, nor did it now. Soon Kate was frantically panting, riding his cock with single-minded purpose, her erratic breathing a familiar prelude to another orgasm. ‘I think I’m going to keep you filled with cum while you’re here,’ he said in a demonstrably settled tone of voice, holding himself motionless at the very depth of his down-stroke for a moment to heighten the frenzy. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ His platitude was as smooth as his slow withdrawal.
She gazed at his reflection as if she’d come back from the other side of the world – breathless, dazed – but she whispered, ‘I don’t mind,’ because she’d heard him even on the other side of the world.
She met his next gliding, measured thrust with perfect precision, as if they were life-long dance partners, as if it was as natural as breathing. Until the prodigal limit was reached, there was nowhere else to go and he pushed that explosive fraction deeper. The sexual equivalent of free-basing crack melted their brains, the world disappeared, bliss crystallized in diamond splinters.
Dominic dragged himself up from the depths of delirium first because he’d had more practice. But what he said next was neither habitual nor customary – and in any other circumstances, beyond comprehension. ‘I might stop giving you your birth control pills. See what happens – like a game of Russian roulette. Do you think that would add another level of excitement to our fucking?’
She went rigid under his hands, her eyes flared wide.
‘Relax. You have to learn to relax, Katherine. I’ll take care of you no matter how the game plays out. Did you think I wouldn’t? And instead of these pearls’ – he reached down to prod one with his finger – ‘dangling from your nipples, your breasts will drip milk for a baby. What do you think?’
What did she think? It was impossible! Inconceivable! But her body wantonly opened in welcome, as if reason had become a marginal issue to irrepressible lust.
‘I think I’d like it,’ he murmured, driven by some redhot, sexed up irrational impulse. ‘A body like yours was made for babies. Interested?’
Since he was moving in her with the kind of undulating rhythm that inflamed and bewitched, overwhelmed intellect with fiery sensation, propelled her frenzied nerve endings ever closer to orgasm – and since she understood that she couldn’t climax without his approval, her immediate answer was never in doubt. ‘Whatever you want,’ she breathed in a dissolving exhalation as he dragged her back into the unyielding rigidity of his erection.
With her climax hovering on the brink, Dominic knew how she’d answer – still, such unchecked largesse was intoxicating. Almost as intoxicating as the image of Miss Hart nursing his baby.
He went absolutely still for a split second, an error message flashing wildly in his brain. Another second passed before he resumed breathing, then another before he concluded that the conversation about procreation at lunch was to blame for his bizarre thoughts. Or the illusion suggested by the dangling pearls. Or perhaps it was only that Miss Hart unclothed triggered images of voluptuous fertility.
None of which mattered with his sanity fully restored. This holiday was about sex and games of mastery and submission, power and control. Nothing else. Miss Hart hadn’t lost her focus; she was swinging her bottom back and forth, being proactive in her quest for orgasm, her breathing erratic like it was just prior to orgasm. So get with the programme. Talk her over the edge.
‘You have a lot of cum running down your legs, Katherine,’ Dominic said gently, smoothly matching her rhythm, conscious of her fast approaching orgasm with the first small tremors fluttering up his dick. ‘If we’re going to get you pregnant, it might be better if you were lying down. Or I could just keep fucking you so you were always filled with cum. That way we’d be sure to make a baby before too—’
She sobbed in a sharp little outcry and climaxed in a rapid fire series of hard convulsions that spiked through Dominic’s brain like a dynamite charge, stole his breath away, ignited an instant, simultaneous ejaculatory explosion that did fill the lady.
And left them both gasping for breath.
But Miss Hart was still slippery wet around him, fully available, delivering herself up to him with her bottom raised high. He felt invincible. As if he could fuck for ever, as if his cock was made of rock, impervious to all but the lure of Miss Hart’s lush, lubricated pussy and his militant lust.
As he proceeded to test his theory of invincibility, he didn’t hear Kate’s safe word after his next orgasm or the next. But her frantic, high-pitched, ‘No, no, no!’ finally broke through the hardcore death-by-screwing strategy he was pursuing. ‘A few seconds more,’ he gasped, grabbing her around the waist to hold her up as her arms gave way. A grunt, a jerk, a half-dozen violent, shuddering thrusts later and he stopped moving. And a second after that, he swept her up into his arms, kissed her parted lips, inhaled her breathless sob, and murmured on a laboured breath, ‘Poor baby – I didn’t … hear you.’