Take (Deliver 5)

Maybe this was a sick game of reverse psychology? But why would he bother with a mind fuck when he could just pin her down and fuck her like all the other times?

This wasn’t a game.

He regretted forcing her, and she felt that at gut level.

They were already late, and the truth was she couldn’t leave him like this. It went against every instinct inside her.

Fuck it.

She strode into the bedroom and shut the door. “I feel like the flakiest woman in existence.”

He raised his head and lifted to his elbows, his gaze following her approach, pupils flaring.

“I changed my mind.”

“Thank, fuck,” he growled.

“But I want this on my terms.” She glided her hands along the back of the gown, trying to locate the invisible zipper.

“What are your terms?”

“I get to be in control.” Her skin heated, and her body bloomed into a galloping throb, fortifying her decision. “Can you handle that?”

“I don’t know.” He watched her hunt for the zipper and gripped his dick through the trousers. “Leave on the dress.”

After a few more seconds of searching, she gave up and reached for the floor-length hem.

There was a lot of material to collect, and as she gathered it up her legs, his hands ghosted up the backs of her thighs, caressing, urging her to move faster.

Once the dress was ruched around her waist, he held it in place while she crawled over him and opened his fly.

He lifted his hips as she dragged the pants and briefs to his knees. His cock jutted upward, beautifully shaped and leaking a clear bead of moisture from the slit.

She wanted to taste it, ride it, and come all over it. Maybe that was wrong for someone in her situation. Maybe it was a psychological condition. But it didn’t change how she felt.

“Don’t just stare at it.” He dug his fingers into her thigh.

She clutched him, enclosing both hands around the thick, turgid, burning hot length.

A groan rumbled in his chest, his thighs flexing as he pushed himself into the squeeze of her fists.

“Fuck, Kate.” His hand enclosed hers, tightening her fingers the way he liked it. “Goddamn, I need you. Come here.”

“Stop bossing.” She inched up his body and straddled his hips, careful not to mess up his tuxedo. “We’re going to do this quick. I’m worried about our clothing and—”

“Shut up, and put me inside you.” His hand guided her fingers up and down his cock, angling his hardness to fit at her entrance.

She knocked his arm away and took over, stirring his plump crown through her folds, readying her body, making herself wetter, hungrier.

His fingers joined in, stroking her pussy and rubbing her arousal over the head of his cock.

What now? She’d never done this before. What if she bent his dick when she sat on it?

“You’re ready.” His voice cracked, his bedroom eyes reading the expression on her face. “Just slide down. You won’t hurt me.”

He laced their fingers together, and his other hand went to her waist, pushing down with impatience.

“I’ve got this.” She braced herself on the twitching bricks of his stomach. “Relax.”

His grip loosened on her waist, and she lowered her body, taking him in inch by hard inch. His jaw stiffened, and the cords in his neck strained taut as he groaned deep and long in the back of his throat.

“Holy fuck, Kate. So good.” He kicked his hips, thrusting to get deeper. “Mierda, you feel sinful.”

“Stop moving.” She pressed a hand on his thigh beneath her, trying to calm his need to dominate. “Let me do this.”

“Then do it. Fuck me.”

Holding their entwined fingers against her midsection, she flattened her other hand on his abs and rocked her hips.

Each movement wrenched a groan from him. When she lifted and lowered, sliding him in and out in languid rolls and undulations, he started to pant.

His hungry responses spurred her faster, harder, until their gasps became one. She threw her head back and writhed on him, losing herself in the pleasure, until his fingers closed around her nipple piercing and painfully tugged.

“Eyes on me.” His accent rolled over her, as thick as the Venezuelan humidity.

She met his gaze, and in one look, he obliterated everything between them. There was no air, no fear, no words.

It was a monumental moment. She was on top of him, controlling the pace and rhythm, fucking him into the bed. Something he’d never allowed anyone else to do and would probably never allow again. It was all there in his eyes, drowning her in the gravity of it.

“Give me your mouth.” He caught her neck and yanked her to him.

She fumbled around his tuxedo coat until her arms found a safe place to land. Then she leaned up, her chest flush with his, and kissed him.

He let her take a few gentle licks before he annihilated her easy pace with his aggressive, sinful tongue.