Taming His Tutor

She bit her lip, aching for him to touch her there. So ready.

He parted her, and she felt her slickness on him and rocked, wordlessly urging him to breach her.

And he did, pushing a finger deep inside her. Groaning, she clenched hard on him. Seeking to lock him inside. Slowly he pumped.

Too slowly. Too good. But not enough.

She arched, wanting more. “Joe.”

“Patience.” He slid out of her, leaving her aching.

She whimpered.

“Here’s your lesson.” He pushed her legs farther apart with his knee, releasing her wrists at the same time. “Passive means no response. Just lying there. Not enjoying. You respond.” He rose above her, bent, and slid his tongue along her wet cleft. He growled, a raw, satisfied masculine growl. “You respond a lot.”

To him she did. She shivered, about to come. But she didn’t want to yet. She reached down to touch him, to draw him up. She needed all of him now. She couldn’t go another orgasm without him inside her. “Please.”

“When I’m ready.” He moved up her body, and closed his mouth around her nipple, allowing his teeth to graze the tight nub again.

She ran her hands over his shoulders, barely getting the pleasure of the breadth of him before he pulled away long enough to reach into his nightstand.

He pulled out a condom and rolled it on. It felt like forever.

“Joe.” A whisper, a plea, she ran her hand over his back.

“Yeah.” He moved into position quickly, braced above her, his cock pressing against her entrance. “You’re so wet. You’re ready.”

She was more than ready.

“And so am I,” he groaned. “I’m so ready for this.”

She swept her hands down his sides, feeling the breadth of his torso taper to his narrow waist. So hot, so hard. She gripped his hips and kept her eyes locked on his face. She wanted to savor this, to read his expression, to know if getting this close felt as good for him as it did for her.

Slowly he flexed, pushing into her.

Oh fuck. Abbi inhaled deeply and gazed into his suddenly tense face.

“You’re tight.” He huffed out a breath.

She spread her legs wider, aching for him to thrust all the way and fill her the way she knew he was going to—completely.

He groaned as he pulled back.

“Don’t stop.” She stilled.

“No.” Slowly he drove a half-inch farther into her before pausing again. “So gorgeously tight.”

But he was there. So incredible.

Her whole body clenched in delight; she trembled and squeezed down on him.

“Fuck.” He closed his eyes, his forehead creasing as if he were in pain. “Don’t do that. Not yet.”

But she did. He felt too good.

His eyes flashed open, boring into hers. “Do it again and I’ll stop.”

With a struggle, she relaxed her muscles. Breathing hard.

He too huffed out another long, harsh breath. “You feel fantastic.”

“So do you.” She gulped.

He pushed again, harder. Abbi wrapped her arms around his back, quivering as she fought the urge to clamp down on him—she’d come if she did.

But she wanted to feel him thrusting hard and wild and out of control and at the point of orgasm himself.

Then she’d come again.

“Good.” His word was muffled as he slammed his lips over hers.

She opened and he thrust his tongue into her hungry mouth. Pleasure engulfed her, more so as she tasted his groan. But then he broke the seal.

Desperate, she arched, writhing beneath him. She needed more.

“That’s it. Move with me,” he whispered.

At his powerful stroke she clamped—couldn’t help the reaction as he filled her. She felt his length hit the top of her cervix. A pleasure pain. She breathed out and relaxed for a second before the second stroke hit. Harder. Even deeper.

Her fingers curled into his shoulder.

Joe.

He was so much more than she’d ever imagined he’d be. In body, in force, in person. In soul.

So much better. And she’d never felt as fantastic, never been held as close. Never as filled. Never as free.

She threw back her head and let herself fall into his rhythm.

Tighten, release, tighten, release.

Close. Closer. Closer still.

Their dance quickened, so good she wondered if maybe she was delirious. If maybe she was dreaming this whole thing.

But not even her imagination could come up with pleasure this extreme.

And he was too huge, too powerful, too damn demanding not to be real. So vibrant, so virile…and so vigorous she was going to feel the effects of his possession for days.

And she was going to revel in that.

“Abbi,” he growled as she tensed on him again.

She lifted her chin, opened her dazed eyes, and smiled at him delightedly. “I told you I’d been working out.”

…

“You’re too strong.” Joe narrowed his eyes.

If she did that again his eyes were gonna roll back in his head and that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to see her in his moment—looking up at him like that. All flushed and aroused and willing. And his.

She felt so fucking good.

If she wanted to get her vixen on, fine by him. But ultimately, this was where it was at. She could dare and tease and try it on. But it would always end up like this—with him deep inside her. With her welcoming him. And what a welcome.

That was what he wanted.

He’d had to flip it—seeing her hesitate when she’d first gone astride him? Seeing the passion leach from her eyes as doubts crept in? He couldn’t let that happen; he’d had to take charge. And fuck him if it hadn’t been the best idea ever. Turned out she responded most to him taking charge.

How the hell could she think she wasn’t an equal participant?

But the way she’d clamped so tight on his finger when he’d pushed inside her was nothing compared to the sensations pouring through him now.

Her big breasts were flattened against his chest, her body a heated satin cushion. And her pussy like a vise on his aching cock. She clenched on him again and again like she was trying to milk him every time he thrust deeper.

So he couldn’t stop thrusting.

Vixen, all right.

When he shifted his position slightly, pushing against her at a different angle, the little trickster wriggled her hips and kept up her feminine assault on him. Like she didn’t want to let him go ever.

And he was losing. Losing and loving it.

How the hell could she think she was bad at this? How could any guy tell her that bullshit? Momentarily angered, he grasped her wrists again, pulled her arms up above her head, pushing them deep into the mattress. Driving closer still.

Her moans were music to him. The flush in her cheeks deepened; her wide eyes were glazed and fixed on him.

“This is so fucking good, Abbi. Got that? So. Fucking. Good.” He emphasized his point literally.

There was no finesse anymore. This was an out-and-out fucking. A fast fight in which he thrust as deep as he could, as hard as he could, over and over and over. And she met him stroke for stoke, her lush hips lifting, her inner walls clenching. Until sweat dampened her beautiful hair and her skin was rose-kissed all over.

Until he couldn’t hold back the wave of pleasure any longer.