Gentleman Sinner

‘That sounded good,’ Theo muses with deep satisfaction, rolling his hips on and on.

‘Stop,’ I breathe, my clitoris starting to zing sensitively. My stomach muscles feel shredded, my skin clammy.

‘I’ll never stop.’ He leans down and nuzzles my face. ‘Give me your mouth.’ I turn into him, letting my mouth fall open in welcome. The soft roll of his tongue around mine has me moaning and humming, the sounds pleading as well as gratifying. I can’t get enough of him. ‘I’m going to free your hands,’ he whispers past my lips. ‘I’m going to turn you over, and you’re going to hold on to the bed, okay?’

I nod, eager, though slightly nervous about the power that I’m about to accept into my body from behind. Teeth lightly bite my lip and pull away, and he reaches to my wrists in turn and unfastens the leather cuffs. A satisfied smile creases his cheeks when he checks my wrists, clearly finding no friction marks. I don’t have the chance to see for myself. One swift move sees him flipping me over to my hands and knees. ‘Hold on,’ he orders, taking my hands to the gold bar spanning the bed.

I grip hard, feeling my hips being pulled back as he’s poised behind me, spreading my legs with his knee. My head drops, my lungs expanding in preparation.

‘Arch your back, Izzy,’ he says, drawing a perfect straight line down my spine to my bum, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. I groan, my back bending to his will.

‘Now that make-up sex is done, are you ready to be fucked like a whore?’

I swallow hard, nodding into my darkness, just as his palm collides with my flesh. A yelp, part surprise and part pain, jerks my body back, and my bum crashes into his groin. I get another swift slap in return.

‘Be still,’ he growls, his hand skimming the skin of my abused arse.

My hold on the bar tightens, blood whooshing in my ears. The folds of my entrance get separated, and when the tip of his cock slips across my slickness, I grit my teeth. ‘Your pussy.’ He slides in, his voice shaking. ‘Oh Jesus.’

The muscles of my walls greedily draw him into me, my hips rocking to accommodate his sheer size. Strong fingers dig into my flesh and hold me still, and I hear him working to control his laboured breathing. Any minute now, he’s going to power into action. I need to be prepared, so I join Theo and try to regulate my ragged breaths.

It’s futile.

The first crash of his body against mine catapults me forward on a scream. And from there, he finds his pace quickly, and he keeps it, pounding on, yanking me back on to him repeatedly until I’m dizzy and my throat is sore from my variations of screams and cries, ecstasy and pain, despair and delight. My arms brace against the bed, and the sounds of two people fucking wildly fill the room, probably even the whole damn mansion, maybe reaching as far as the Playground. How the bed is sustaining us is beyond me. He goes on and on, yelling, slapping my arse, and reaching down to feel my breasts. I begin to wonder how much more I can take when I hear Theo suck in air and hold it. He’s on his way. I can feel the thickening of his dick even through the chaotic thrusting of our bodies.

‘Oh, fuck,’ he bellows, slamming on harder. My mind blanks of everything except the unexpected orgasm that smashes into me with equal force as Theo’s body. The power of it takes me out, and I collapse to the bed, Theo following me down and grinding his hips in smooth, effective rotations.

The sheets are wet beneath me, my hair damp, and my skin burning. I was just fucked like a whore. And, strangely, I feel more precious than ever with my big man twitching on top of me, his skin slipping over mine as my cheek rests on the pillow and I stare across the bed. ‘See how much I want you?’ he pants, biting at my shoulder.

I beam wide, happy beyond description, and his mouth pauses. I feel him smile against my skin before he abruptly flips me to my back and pins me to the bed, my arms high above my head. His chest hovering above me, shimmering with sweat and undulating with his erratic breathing, only stretches my smile more, making my face hurt. How? How does he do this to me? He blows a cool stream of air across my cheek, dislodging a lock of hair that’s stuck there. Then he grins, arching a brow as he scans my flustered face.

The vision of raw masculinity floating over me is just . . . it’s just . . . just . . . I sigh. I’ve run out of words. Theo Kane is like marshmallow coated with steel. He’s a big softy in a hard exterior. He’s a certain kind of cut handsome that I think only I can see. Because the hard lines of his gorgeous face don’t affect me like they do others. I don’t tremble in my boots or shake with dread in his presence. Instead, I quiver with want and vibrate with need.