What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [73]
She appeared to be thinking back over the evening. “Okay, maybe I mostly felt like a silly plebe at the beginning. I was pretty scared.”
“But you still managed to go along with the fantasy. And I enjoyed every minute of it,” he assured her.
She sat up a bit more, leaning back on her hands, and bent her knees, her legs still spread before him. “What did you enjoy? In particular? It would help me to know.”
His cock still ached in his pants—he’d actually been through a lot of arousal himself tonight without getting off. And thinking back on it all made him begin to throb—but he still met her gaze as he answered. “The way you look in leather. Your tits, with the rings, and the chain. That you’re able to let a woman touch you now without flinching.” His voice deepened. “How you let yourself accept pleasure when you were chained to the wall. The way you looked . . . bound. The way your ass closed so tight around the glass. The way you whimpered and moaned.”
Her skin flushed and he tightened his hold on her thighs, squeezing lightly. He found himself watching her eyes, then her mouth—her lips pouty-looking from stretching around his dick for so long. He felt the urge to kiss her. But he resisted. It was best he start doing that more—resisting.
Remembering the period of time when she’d been strapped to the kneeling rail and how intense it had all gotten, he felt a little bad. But he wasn’t going to keep apologizing. Instead, he said, “What were you going to ask me for at the kneeling rail?”
“I was going to beg you to fuck me,” she said. Little Mary Sunshine no more. A perfect good girl gone perfectly bad. He wanted her like hell. “It turned out you were right, like always—what you wanted did bring me pleasure. I wasn’t repulsed by it—it was . . . more than I could have dreamed. But . . .” She lowered her eyes then, looking strangely bashful for a girl who wore a revealing corset and dominatrix boots. “I still find myself wanting now,” she went on softly, “what I wanted then.”
For him to fuck her. Him. No one else.
Brent lifted his hand from her fishnet-clad thigh, leaning over to touch her pretty face. He should resist. But he wasn’t going to. “Beg me now, sunshine.”
Looking beautifully needy but determined, she sat up fully and ran her hands through his hair, making his scalp tingle. “Please, Brent. Fuck me.” Her breath was shaky, audible. “Please, please, please—fuck me hard and deep. I’ll beg you all night if you want—I just need you inside me. Please.”
Damn. He’d begun to think she didn’t have it in her—the ability to let a lover know what she desired so honestly, so frankly. And this was another major step—a triumph—in her journey toward sexual freedom. But mainly, he heard it with his cock. And with his heart, which was beating way too rapidly. “I love hearing you say that, baby. Say it some more,” he rasped.
“Fuck me, Brent. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she pleaded in a hot, breathy voice that nearly buried him. “I want you to make me come. And I want to make you come, too. Please.”
A low groan left him as he kissed her. As he thrust his tongue into her mouth. As he molded his hands to her gorgeous tits, squeezing, massaging.
He loved it when she reached to undo his pants. Sweet Jenna, going for what she wanted. It made him even stiffer, if that was possible.
When his erection was freed, she moaned at the sight, then took him in her hand. Mmm, yeah—so good. He couldn’t hold in a low growl.
And then he was leaning in, letting her pull his dick toward her pussy, until he thrust inside. Aw, God. So fucking tight. Wet. Even after all she’d been through tonight, she was so hot for him. He curled his hands around her ass and let her set the pace, find her rhythm.
As she undulated against him, tits to chest, belly to belly, he let that rhythm move through him and soaked up everything hungry and wild and female about her. He ran his hands over her curves. He listened to her hot breath in his ear. Then he molded his hands tight to her ass, squeezing hard