The Exposure (The Submissive 9)

“Flip over onto your back,” he said. He wanted to see her face as he possessed her. More than that, he wanted her to see his. There was no way he could change the past, but perhaps it would ease her mind about the present if she saw what she did to him.

She turned quickly and raked her eyes over his body, a faint smile playing on her lips. He was pleased to find her looking at him. All in all, it seemed only fair; he’d certainly looked his share at her.

“Like what you see?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, shocking him with her honesty. “Very much so.”

“That makes two of us. Every inch of you is fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He wanted to tell her she was more beautiful now than she was all those years ago, but didn’t, thinking it would probably not be in his best interest to bring up the past. Focus on the present, he told himself. The past was unchangeable, the future uncertain. All he had control over at the moment was now and he was going to make the most of it.

“You ready for me?” he asked, rolling on a condom. “Ready for me to fuck you—how did you pick? Slow?”

“So ready, Sir.”

“Open your legs for me.”

He moved between her thighs as she dropped them open. She held her breath waiting for his first penetration, but he didn’t appease her. Instead he slapped her clit with his cock.

“You look so damn fuckable. Your legs spread. Your pussy glistening. Your clit aching to be touched.”

She gritted her teeth and hissed as his cock struck that spot again.

“I bet I could get you off like this.”

“I bet you could too, Sir.” She arched her back against the continuing torment of her sensitive flesh.

“Maybe we’ll try that later. We agreed to one night, but you’d better believe I’m going to ensure it’s a night you won’t soon forget. In fact, I hope you don’t have plans for tomorrow, because I’m going to take all damn night. By morning you won’t know your own name, but your body won’t forget mine.”

To prove his point, he shifted his hips and entered her with one long, slow thrust.

Her eyes fluttered. “Oh my God. Did you get bigger?”

It was so unexpected, he chuckled. “Not that I’m aware of.”

He withdrew and started a torment-inducing rhythm with his hips. At least it was torment inducing for him. He should have thought through giving her a choice in how he took her. Though from the way she kept lifting her hips, trying to draw him closer, she was second-guessing her decision as well.

“Ah, yes,” he lied. “I could do this all night.”

She whimpered.

“You feel incredible. So hot and tight, and”—he punctuated his words with a hard thrust—“good.”

He started moving just a touch faster. “Wrap your legs around my waist.” He needed to feel her wrapped around his body. He loved the feel of her wrapped more intimately around him.

No sooner did he feel her heels on his butt than he knew he’d made a mistake. With each thrust into her, her legs tightened around him, urging him onward, pleading silently for him to take her faster.

He moved within her a few more times before he gave in to the need his body screamed for.

“Fuck slow.”

“Oh, hell, yes,” she said, as he drove into her harder and faster. Allowing them both to move toward what they needed. “Sir.”

He slipped a hand between their bodies. He’d never come first before in his life, but if she didn’t catch up to him soon, he was going to break that record.

“How close?” he asked.

“Very, Sir.”

He stroked her clit. “Let it go.”

She didn’t give a verbal answer, but nodded and closed her eyes. A few more thrusts and her body spasmed around him. Normally, he’d have given her a second orgasm before allowing himself to take his own pleasure. But he knew he’d never be able to last that long. It was a miracle he’d lasted as long as he had.

He managed to slow his thrusts down, drawing out every sigh, whimper, and moan she had before his own climax crashed over him, drowning out her sounds of pleasure with his.

* * *

Meagan wasn’t sure she could work up enough energy to move. Though, all things considered, if she never moved again, she probably wouldn’t find it in herself to complain. Holy shit. She didn’t remember sex with Luke being that good.

Granted, she recalled it had been pretty awesome, but there was no way it was THAT awesome.

“I’m crushing you,” he said, shifting away from her.

Was he? She didn’t care. In fact, she rather liked the feel of his weight on her. Odd, she normally didn’t. She didn’t want him to move too far away, so she found the strength to keep a hand on his shoulder.

His hard, slick-with-sweat-from-fucking-you shoulder. Just remembering the way he looked above her, his muscles flexing as he pounded into her . . .

Fuck.

She wanted him again.

And that was A Very Bad Sign for a number of reasons, beginning with the fact that they were working together professionally. They had been down this road before. It didn’t end well.

Her body went cold as the second reason came to her.

Taskmaster.

Damn it all to hell and back. She hadn’t even thought of the blackmailer all night. Why did he have to jump straight to her head after such an amazing time with Luke?

Because anyone who knew what was going on would assume she’d just slept with Luke to get close to him. She knew that’s the way she’d look at her current situation. And she didn’t even want to think about what Luke would say. Whatever happened, she’d just have to make sure he never found out.

As if she didn’t already hate The Taskmaster enough, this just added to the number. He’d just managed to throw a wet blanket on the most perfect sex she’d had in . . . well, ever.

She refused to let him have that much power. Not on the one night she’d decided to give herself to Luke. Yet another reason why one night only was smart. And if she had only one night, she wasn’t going to waste it.

“Hey,” she said, rolling over to her side to face Luke.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey, yourself.”

She stretched. “That was amazing.”

“I agree.”

She lifted herself up on one elbow so she could see the alarm clock over his shoulder. “Night’s still young.”

“Is that a subtle hint, Meagan Bishop?”

“Oh no.” She traced his raised eyebrow. “There was nothing meant to be subtle about it.”

He laughed and rolled her over to her back. “If you want me to continue to be awesome, I’m going to need to recover.”

“It’s good to be a girl.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He sat up. “I’m going to go get rid of this condom and when I get back, we’ll see if I can’t make you even more happy to be a girl.”

“I look so forward to it, Sir.”

He was gone for only a few minutes, but in that time she felt utterly alone in his large bed. She couldn’t fathom why. The only thing she could attribute it to was The Taskmaster. God, she hated that man. At least, she thought it was a man. No, it was more; what she felt was beyond hate for whoever it was. Not only for what they were doing to her, but because they had now cast a shadow on what