Compromised in Paradise (Compromise Me 3)

She abandoned her breasts and clamped her hands to her trembling thighs. And then, because she had no shame, she reached around and traced her way to where his fingers fucked her with maddeningly shallow, abusively leisurely strokes. “Please.” She licked her lips and tried to calm herself, because somehow she’d ended up on the edge of a sexual panic. “I want more. I want you. You promised.”

“Are you going to come if I part your legs?” He sank his fingers in deeper, sweeping along her inner walls.

“Yes!” Her hips flexed and lifted of their own accord. “God, yes. I think so.”

“Good.” He withdrew, leaving her bereft, but rested his hand there in a gesture she should have considered offensively possessive—this is mine—but instead she found the protection of his hand over her most tender, most vulnerable parts strangely reassuring. “Here’s the deal, Czarina. I’m going to let you go, climb up there, and get into position. But you are not going to open your legs. Not a millimeter. Your job is to lie there with your legs in the air, knees and ankles crossed, and keep that orgasm locked up tight. Wait like a good girl while I slide my cock between those pouting lips. Can you do that?”

She honestly didn’t know if she was strong enough to hold a leg-lift that long. Especially not in her current condition. She tightened her abs and lifted her legs off his shoulder. “Hurry. It hurts.”

“I know. Believe me, I’m hurting, too, but no matter how much it hurts, you’re going to do it. Hold that position while I feed myself into your mouth as deep as you can take—deeper than you’ve taken anyone before. Hold it while I make sure you can handle what I’ve given you. Once I’m sure you’re good to go, I’ll tell you to lower your legs. But even then, you’re not going to open them.”

“I’m not?” Her muscles were already starting to burn. Somehow, the strain only added to the pressure building inside her. Was he going to make her earn her orgasm this time, by seeing to him first? Fair enough, but she hoped she would make it that long.

“No. That privilege is mine. Understand, Czarina? It’s mine.”

…

“I understand.”

Her words were barely a whisper, but he knew the weakness in her voice wasn’t a sign of uncertainty. She was co

nsumed in the moment, and verbal responses took too much effort. All of those eternal stressors that invaded her mind to interfere with her pleasure were far away. She was so ready.

He was ready, too. Insanely ready. He dragged his trunks off and tossed them aside, but even the cool water couldn’t calm his raging cock. Pressure formed a painful weight in his balls. Every beat of his heart sent more blood into his shaft. Despite it all, he took a moment to soak her in. She’d never know what a sight she made, with her slender body laid out on the rock—legs in the air, ass a little red from the scrape of his stubble, hands draped across her breasts. Her damp skin glistened in the watery light, and her long hair flowed away from her face to form rivers of dark silk over the weathered basalt. And that face? An uncontrived and irresistible seduction, with her heavy-lidded eyes, her lust-flushed cheeks, and lips parted to release quick, shallow breaths. This was the face of raw, feminine need. A woman desperate for a man.

For him.

Jesus, she was beautiful, and Jesus, he’d fucked up, because once again he wasn’t going to get to watch her come. Tomorrow, he vowed as he climbed onto the rock. He’d fix that tomorrow.

Her eyes raced over him as he moved over her. Impossibly, he got harder, and harder still as he watched her gaze focus on his cock and her tongue slide over her upper lip. Her hands closed around his ankles.

“Come down. Give it to me. Now.”

He was on his knees before she finished speaking. Carefully, he gathered up her hair, twisted it around his fist, and kept her head still while he moved closer. Once he straddled her face, he draped the smooth rope over her chest where he wouldn’t be in danger of kneeling on it. She needed to be free to move. “Open your mouth, Czarina.”

She responded immediately and gave him yet another sight to appreciate. Head tipped to an accommodating angle, lips parted in invitation, and round, rapt eyes trained on his jutting cock. He wrapped his fist around the base. Although it was a risky move at this stage, he tightened his grip and choked his shaft a little, because he wanted to be perfect for her. Then he primed the pump even more with a firm pull, wringing a drop of liquid from his dick in the process. It beaded on the crown, and a shiver rippled down his spine at the thought of her flicking her tongue over the tip to lick it away.

Being this hard made him feel burly and unwieldy to his own hand, but all that really mattered was how he felt to her. Her body responded to the sensation of being filled. Part of that, he suspected, was mental. She got off on the challenge of it, and the primitive emotional comfort of feeling replete. But she also got off on the physical aspects of penetration. Bottom line? She liked having something inside her. His tongue, his fingers, his dick—they all worked for her as far as he could tell—and before they parted ways he’d make sure something portable worked for her, too, so she could…what? See to her needs, and not give some other lucky bastard the opportunity to please her?

That depressing notion ambushed him from a hiding place in the back of his mind. A no-win zone he’d warned himself to stay clear of, but now that he was in there, the unwanted thoughts piled on.

Because there will be some other lucky bastard. You know that. She’s moving on. Hell, she has a date this Saturday with Dr. Nicholas Bancroft.

You need to call Evelyn and cancel. You should have done it yesterday. Why are you waiting?

A little moan brought him back to the fact that he had her under him, holding her legs in the air like her life depended on it, relying on him to keep his head in the game and make sure they both scored. He shook off the unwanted thoughts. He was supposed to be showing her how to push stress aside and enjoy the moment, not wallowing in ill-timed and pointless self-examination.

Enjoy the moment. Enjoy the fucking moment and make sure she enjoys it, too.

He could do this. He specialized in enjoyable moments. Still holding the base of his shaft, he leaned over her and planted a hand by her hip. The move sent his balls swinging. He gritted his teeth and concentrated on the czarina’s stomach. It fluttered from the effort of keeping her legs suspended and then hollowed as she inhaled. Her hands settled on his thighs. His muscles bunched in reaction, giving her a solid place to hold on. He took a deep breath as well and then looked down their bodies and angled his cock toward her mouth. She raised her head a fraction and opened wider.

“Uh-uh. Just your lips. I want a minute with just your lips.” When she lowered her head and resumed her waiting position, he rewarded her patience by rolling the crown over her lips. Back and forth, lubricating them with her saliva and his precome, until his head glided easily. Her tongue sneaked out to join the party, which brutalized him as much as he’d imagined it would, but he didn’t scold her for what amounted to an instinctive response. Her somatosensory cortex was lighting up like crazy right now, processing the messages from the millions of sensory receptors in her lips and demanding more data. She pursed her lips, capturing his head and taking him in until she sealed her mouth around the flare.

He indulged in a couple shallow thrusts while lights exploded behind his eyes. “Christ, I could lose myself right here. Another day, another time, I’ll let you play those lips on me forever, but right now I have to go deeper. Are you ready?”

Her response was to lift her head while simultaneously dragging her hand down the back of his balls, nudging him on.

Jaw clenched, he guided himself in, sinking slowly into the warm, soft haven of her mouth. Muffled sounds—little gasps and moans—accompanied his intrusion. Manners dictated he wait for her to do whatever adjusting she needed to do to accommodate him, but her busy tongue explored at will, and she continued fondling his balls. Stroking, squeezing, driving him out of his mind. When he was in deep enough to feel the narrowing at the back of her throat, her tongue and hand stilled. “Good?”