It will suck me under, I know that, and yet I don’t care. I want to drown it it, I want to go down, down, down...
“Hunter,” I whisper as I slide out of sleep. My eyes flutter open, and I look up into the dark heat of his eyes.
His hands are pressed into the mattress on either side of my head, supporting his body as he moves slowly, languidly inside me. My body is alive—awake. Certainly more awake than the rest of me, though I’m getting there fast.
I spread my legs wider, giving him access, silently acknowledging that he has taken me in sleep—and that I like it.
He thrusts harder, again and again, until finally he explodes above me, and I watch as the orgasm draws him up, and then crashes him down upon me.
When his breathing returns to normal, he gently brushes his lips over mine. “Good morning.”
I smile in return. “Nice way to wake up.”
“You’re at my mercy, after all,” he says. “And I couldn’t resist you naked and sprawled on your back, your legs parted, just beckoning for me. You were already wet,” he said. “Wet and slick and hot before I even touched you.”
“I was dreaming of you,” I admit. “And then I was dreaming of this.” I lick my lips, then swallow, foolishly embarrassed by what I am about to say. “I like it. I want to be used.”
I see the heat flare in his eyes. “Do you. Why?”
I start to turn my head away, but he stops me with a firm finger on my chin.
“Why,” he repeats.
“You know,” I say. “It’s because I’m yours.” And then, because I have not yet had enough of him, I turn over, tucking my knees under me so that I am giving him my rear.
“I’m yours,” I say, my voice low and meaningful. I look back over my shoulder. “Please. I want you. I want you first.”
“Jamie, kitten.” His voice is raw, and there’s no mistaking the desire. “I don’t want to hurt you. If you’ve never...without lube...”
“My purse,” I say. “A holdover from my days of fucking around,” I add, then smile when he smirks.
It takes him only a moment to find it, and then he is back. “You’re sure?”
I want to tell him that I don’t want to leave him. That I think, just maybe, I have fallen in love with him.
But that isn’t something I can say, and it’s not something I can give. But I can give him me. “Yes,” I say. “Please, yes.”
“Then come here,” he says, pulling me up from my position on my knees. He crushes his mouth against mine in a kiss that is wild and deep and crazed with passion.
“I adore you,” he says when we come up for air. “I want you. Hell, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. Christ, I’m hard again.”
“You have me,” I say as he moves down my body, stroking and suckling my breasts, then laving my sex with quick, fluttery kisses until I am squirming, so close to bursting I can feel the hum of the approaching climax in my blood.
“Turn over,” he says. “Like you were, on your knees.”
I comply, and his hands stroke my back, soft and sensual as if I am some fragile thing. His finger trails down further, and he explores my rear, his lubed finger sliding over me, easing inside me, readying me.
I close my eyes, my body trembling. I am not a stranger to anal play, but I have never had a man inside me. I’m glad. I want to have Ryan, and only Ryan, and now, as he gets me slick and ready, I try to relax. I concentrate on the throbbing anticipation in my cunt. In the tightness of my nipples. On the delicious sensitivity of my skin.
“You’re ready, baby,” he says, and I close my eyes, relaxing, opening for him as he presses his cock against my tight entrance. Slowly, he eases inside, and I suck in air, wanting him to stop, and yet at the same time wanting more.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks as he moves slowly and deliberately.
“No,” I lie, because the pain is part of it. Like when he spanked my ass, the pain is mixed with pleasure, and I want it all. “It’s okay. Please. More. Don’t stop.”
He takes me at my word, still moving carefully, but thrusting more intensely until, finally, my body seems to welcome him, and the pain melts in to something red and silky, like a memory of pain turned to pleasure.
I shift my arm so that I can tease my clit, getting closer and closer along with him. I come quickly, my body too aware, too ready, and every part of me clenches, drawing him in even tighter and wresting a long, low groan from him.
He comes after me, and when he does, he cries my name, then draws me close and holds me tight. “Kitten,” he murmurs, his lips pressed to my neck. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, and his answer fills me to bursting: “For you.”
* * * *
Later, in the shower, he tenderly strokes my cheek. “You are amazing,” he says.
“I’m glad you think so,” I tease. “I feel amazing.”
It’s true. My body feels thoroughly fucked, deliciously used. And simply having Ryan beside me is pleasure enough. The fact that he’s also naked adds on serious bonus points.
“Yeah,” I repeat, and then kiss him. “I feel amazing.”
When we get out of the shower, he is dressed and looking sinfully handsome in under fifteen minutes.
I take a bit longer to put together. Especially since today is my interview with Ellison Ward.
I spend an hour doing my makeup for the camera, then dressing, then checking myself in the mirror. I’m not naïve—I know that Ward is the one who will get the screen time—but I also know this gig is potentially a break for me, and I don’t want to fuck it up.
“You look stunning,” Ryan says. “Professional, sexy, feminine and smart. All excellent qualities as far as I’m concerned.”
“I appreciate the endorsement,” I say, then accept his kiss, though I make him kiss me on the cheek so as to not muck up my lipstick.
The collar is on the counter where I left it before showering, and now I pick it up. I want to wear it, but it really doesn’t go with my camera-ready outfit. I’m about to say that to Ryan—to tell him why I’m not wearing this gift that so moved me—when he takes it from me.
“What are you—” I begin, but he hushes me with a single press of a fingertip to my lips. Then he uses a small pocket knife to remove the lock from the loop on the collar. He puts the necklace back, then presses the lock into my hand. “You hold the key to my heart,” he says as I melt just a little. “Keep it safe.”
I nod, then put the lock gently in the pocket of my jacket. The weight is minimal, but I can feel it there, and it bolsters my confidence.
As we are leaving the suite, a bellman arrives and hands me a valet ticket. “Your Ferrari, Ms. Archer.”
“Thank you,” I say, but I’m looking at Ryan.
“My guys brought it in,” he says. “The gas gauge is still off, but the tank’s full. I wanted to ask before I sent her ahead to Texas, but just so you know, you’ll be driving there with me.”
I smile. “Perfect,” I say. What I don’t say is that it would be perfect, except for the part where we leave each other at the end.
I drop the valet ticket into my purse for the time being, then follow Ryan to the elevator.
“Hunter,” I whisper as I slide out of sleep. My eyes flutter open, and I look up into the dark heat of his eyes.
His hands are pressed into the mattress on either side of my head, supporting his body as he moves slowly, languidly inside me. My body is alive—awake. Certainly more awake than the rest of me, though I’m getting there fast.
I spread my legs wider, giving him access, silently acknowledging that he has taken me in sleep—and that I like it.
He thrusts harder, again and again, until finally he explodes above me, and I watch as the orgasm draws him up, and then crashes him down upon me.
When his breathing returns to normal, he gently brushes his lips over mine. “Good morning.”
I smile in return. “Nice way to wake up.”
“You’re at my mercy, after all,” he says. “And I couldn’t resist you naked and sprawled on your back, your legs parted, just beckoning for me. You were already wet,” he said. “Wet and slick and hot before I even touched you.”
“I was dreaming of you,” I admit. “And then I was dreaming of this.” I lick my lips, then swallow, foolishly embarrassed by what I am about to say. “I like it. I want to be used.”
I see the heat flare in his eyes. “Do you. Why?”
I start to turn my head away, but he stops me with a firm finger on my chin.
“Why,” he repeats.
“You know,” I say. “It’s because I’m yours.” And then, because I have not yet had enough of him, I turn over, tucking my knees under me so that I am giving him my rear.
“I’m yours,” I say, my voice low and meaningful. I look back over my shoulder. “Please. I want you. I want you first.”
“Jamie, kitten.” His voice is raw, and there’s no mistaking the desire. “I don’t want to hurt you. If you’ve never...without lube...”
“My purse,” I say. “A holdover from my days of fucking around,” I add, then smile when he smirks.
It takes him only a moment to find it, and then he is back. “You’re sure?”
I want to tell him that I don’t want to leave him. That I think, just maybe, I have fallen in love with him.
But that isn’t something I can say, and it’s not something I can give. But I can give him me. “Yes,” I say. “Please, yes.”
“Then come here,” he says, pulling me up from my position on my knees. He crushes his mouth against mine in a kiss that is wild and deep and crazed with passion.
“I adore you,” he says when we come up for air. “I want you. Hell, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. Christ, I’m hard again.”
“You have me,” I say as he moves down my body, stroking and suckling my breasts, then laving my sex with quick, fluttery kisses until I am squirming, so close to bursting I can feel the hum of the approaching climax in my blood.
“Turn over,” he says. “Like you were, on your knees.”
I comply, and his hands stroke my back, soft and sensual as if I am some fragile thing. His finger trails down further, and he explores my rear, his lubed finger sliding over me, easing inside me, readying me.
I close my eyes, my body trembling. I am not a stranger to anal play, but I have never had a man inside me. I’m glad. I want to have Ryan, and only Ryan, and now, as he gets me slick and ready, I try to relax. I concentrate on the throbbing anticipation in my cunt. In the tightness of my nipples. On the delicious sensitivity of my skin.
“You’re ready, baby,” he says, and I close my eyes, relaxing, opening for him as he presses his cock against my tight entrance. Slowly, he eases inside, and I suck in air, wanting him to stop, and yet at the same time wanting more.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks as he moves slowly and deliberately.
“No,” I lie, because the pain is part of it. Like when he spanked my ass, the pain is mixed with pleasure, and I want it all. “It’s okay. Please. More. Don’t stop.”
He takes me at my word, still moving carefully, but thrusting more intensely until, finally, my body seems to welcome him, and the pain melts in to something red and silky, like a memory of pain turned to pleasure.
I shift my arm so that I can tease my clit, getting closer and closer along with him. I come quickly, my body too aware, too ready, and every part of me clenches, drawing him in even tighter and wresting a long, low groan from him.
He comes after me, and when he does, he cries my name, then draws me close and holds me tight. “Kitten,” he murmurs, his lips pressed to my neck. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, and his answer fills me to bursting: “For you.”
* * * *
Later, in the shower, he tenderly strokes my cheek. “You are amazing,” he says.
“I’m glad you think so,” I tease. “I feel amazing.”
It’s true. My body feels thoroughly fucked, deliciously used. And simply having Ryan beside me is pleasure enough. The fact that he’s also naked adds on serious bonus points.
“Yeah,” I repeat, and then kiss him. “I feel amazing.”
When we get out of the shower, he is dressed and looking sinfully handsome in under fifteen minutes.
I take a bit longer to put together. Especially since today is my interview with Ellison Ward.
I spend an hour doing my makeup for the camera, then dressing, then checking myself in the mirror. I’m not naïve—I know that Ward is the one who will get the screen time—but I also know this gig is potentially a break for me, and I don’t want to fuck it up.
“You look stunning,” Ryan says. “Professional, sexy, feminine and smart. All excellent qualities as far as I’m concerned.”
“I appreciate the endorsement,” I say, then accept his kiss, though I make him kiss me on the cheek so as to not muck up my lipstick.
The collar is on the counter where I left it before showering, and now I pick it up. I want to wear it, but it really doesn’t go with my camera-ready outfit. I’m about to say that to Ryan—to tell him why I’m not wearing this gift that so moved me—when he takes it from me.
“What are you—” I begin, but he hushes me with a single press of a fingertip to my lips. Then he uses a small pocket knife to remove the lock from the loop on the collar. He puts the necklace back, then presses the lock into my hand. “You hold the key to my heart,” he says as I melt just a little. “Keep it safe.”
I nod, then put the lock gently in the pocket of my jacket. The weight is minimal, but I can feel it there, and it bolsters my confidence.
As we are leaving the suite, a bellman arrives and hands me a valet ticket. “Your Ferrari, Ms. Archer.”
“Thank you,” I say, but I’m looking at Ryan.
“My guys brought it in,” he says. “The gas gauge is still off, but the tank’s full. I wanted to ask before I sent her ahead to Texas, but just so you know, you’ll be driving there with me.”
I smile. “Perfect,” I say. What I don’t say is that it would be perfect, except for the part where we leave each other at the end.
I drop the valet ticket into my purse for the time being, then follow Ryan to the elevator.
