Tied to His Betrayal (Dirty Little Secrets 2) - Page 18

I tuck my fingers into the front of her jeans, yanking her forward, relishing her gasp. “That’s your offer, then? I can have all of you?”

“Yes,” she rasps, licking her lips. “You can have whatever you want.”

I step in closer now, pressing the length of my hard cock against her soft belly. “Hmm…enticing.” I lean down, running my nose along her neck, feeling her shiver. “All the things I could do to you.” I let my voice lower into a rumble. Her breathing speeds up, responding to my deep voice. “All the dirty, dirty things.” And I enjoy watching the way she melts for me.

Tempted by all the wicked things I want to do to her, I slide my hand over the curve of her hip. I like that she’s not fragile, or too thin, like she once was. I’d been very careful with her before. Now she’s a woman fully capable of handling a man like me, and I’m thinking of things I probably shouldn’t do with her…a spanking, a flogging, hot wax, a rough, passionate fuck…oh, how she tempts me.

I drag my hand up the curve of her hip to her rib cage, enjoying the energy bouncing between us, as if no time has gone by since I last touched her intimately. I note her tremble a little, knowing that’s my power affecting her.

Taylor had a taste of the Dominant I would become when we dated, though I had only begun to realize that kinky, commanding, and demanding side of myself. She’d never met the man who trained and practiced his kinks to ensure any woman playing with him got exactly what she needed and more. I want to introduce her to that man, I decide, running my finger across her parted lips. “What do you want, Taylor?” I ask.

“You.”

“Why?” I need a clear reason. I need to know she wants just sex.

She makes her move then and untucks my shirt from my pants. Her eyes are on my face as she’s boldly undoing each button until the fabric hangs open.

When her hands slide underneath the fabric, up my abs and over my chest, my muscles are flexing, and my dick is throbbing, desperate to enter her. But as she begins to tug on my leather belt, my mind snaps back to my question. “Stop.” I grab her hands, my body flushing unnaturally. “Answer me. Why do you want this?”

Eyes on me, she yanks her hands out from under mine and keeps loosening my belt until she’s undoing the button of my slacks. Her confidence and the control she’s trying to take from me is wreaking havoc on my logic. No one dominates me. Not ever. And as she begins to call out to the base instinct of my soul to take control, threading her hands in my hair, yanking tight, she’s awoken the beast.

I’ve already decided that I’m taking her even before she answers me. “Darius, I want you.” She wiggles against my rock-hard cock. “And I know you want this, too.” Then she’s unhooking her bra, opening her jeans and thrusting them down, as if she owns this moment.

I smile at her, knowing it likely looks devilish, and I take her up on her offer, brazenly glancing at her body. The memory of her figure has always remained burned into my mind, though as I look from her head down to her toes, I see differences in her body from her nineteen-year-old self to her twenty-five-year-old self.

Good differences.

Differences that harden my dick to steel.

I glance over her curves, rounded stomach, and her fleshy hips. Her breasts aren’t as perky as I remember, hanging in more of a teardrop shape now. I lick my lips, salivating to suck her small, dark nipples up to the roof of my mouth, remembering how much she liked that. I slowly look back at her face, all the while deciding which way I intend to make her squirm.

Her mouth is parted, her breath is harsh. I know why. She’s both excited and unsure. She thought she had the power, and now I see, in the widening of her eyes, she realizes she doesn’t.

But that’s what I want. That’s what feeds my soul. I like the intensity and revel in her harsh gasp as I grab her head, bringing my mouth to hers. Growling against her mouth, I allow all the things I’ve been fighting to overcome me and I so very easily take back the control that she’s trying to strip from me. I feel her melt into my hold, softening in the way I like her to be soft. I gather her in my arms, slamming her back against the wall, kissing her roughly.

A release. An escape. That I can give her, and that I will give her.

Her legs are squeezing my waist tight when I sprawl my hands across her buttocks, grabbing her fleshy ass and shifting her hips. I rub her against my cock, feeling the moisture of precum sticky in my boxer briefs. Her soft moans spill over me in a hot wave as I grind against her clit, knowing from experience she’s hypersensitive. The hitch of her breath tells me that’s another thing about her that hasn’t changed.

I can’t look away from her now, not with all that heat blazing through her eyes. I like it so much, I lean in and seal my lips over hers again to increase her arousal. Her tongue tangles with mine perfectly, and I notice when I kiss her a little harder, she gives me that sweet little wiggle I like. Taylor’s not a naturally submissive woman, but her body is submissive to me. Every damn time. I like how I can make her strong mind shut off and how her body bends to my will. I fucking love how I make her melt, as if my touch is the only thing she needs in the world to satisfy her.

When her moans turn into panting, I release one of her legs, letting her foot lower to the floor, and hook her other leg around my hip. Doing what I know gets her hotter, I nudge her neck to the side and kiss her in the way she deserves to be kissed. Ravishingly. Adoringly. Fiercely. I thread my fingers into her hair, being the man she needs me to be. Touching her in the way she needs to be touched, as if no other woman compares to her. And we both know that’s very true.

Taylor is, and has always been, my woman.

The thought echoes across my mind and a low, possessive groan rises from my throat as I gyrate my hips, using my hardened length as I would my fingertips, bringing her rapidly to the release I know she is desperate for.

My hands are in all the places that make her burn; one yanks the strands of her hair, and the other runs over her warm thigh until I’m squeezing her buttocks. I keep her pinned to the wall and circle my hips, pressing harder, rubbing my shaft over her clit, faster and faster. I lick her neck, suck her earlobe, and I swirl my tongue across her flesh to tease her into thinking I’m licking her soft, wet folds. But we both know that it’s not my cock getting her there, it’s me. It’s the passion. It’s the intensity. It’s us together. It’s magic.

I hear the hitch of her breath, feel the quiver of her body against mine, then I give Taylor what she needs from me. I slid my tongue back down her neck to the b

ase, where I bite, hard. She gasps loudly, but I don’t look up, not yet. I squeeze my jaws together, flooding her with pain, until I feel her tense. Only then do I act, pressing my erection harder against her and moving from left to right, over and over again, as fast as I can, like two fingers working wildly over her bundle of nerves.

When her eager moan spills over me, I decide that’s enough and open my mouth, dragging my tongue across the marks I’ve given her. As the rush of endorphins floods her, her voice cuts off and her body strains in my arms. I smile to myself, running my tongue back up her neck, until I’m at her mouth. Her lips are a perfect O and her eyes are closed, so lost in pleasure. She’s hanging there waiting for my order, without even knowing how much I control her now.

I slide my tongue across her bottom lip and order, “Come for me, baby.”

And just like that, she does.

Tags: Stacey Kennedy Dirty Little Secrets Erotic
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