Relentless (Renegades 4)

“You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me just to look at you like this.”

She heaved a whimper.

“Oh, I like that sound.” His fingertips touched her shoulders, slid down her ribs, traced her waist, her hips, then disappeared. She groaned and shifted against the lounge.

His hot chuckle streaked over her skin like fire. “Angel, you are the wickedest temptation ever.”

In the mirror, she saw him lower his head and anticipated the touch of his lips on her skin. Instead, his tongue swept over her pussy in one hot, wet wave. Pressure, heat, and moisture seared through her sex, followed by the scrape of his beard.

She gasped and her spine bowed on a cry of surprise and pleasure. Her voice echoed off the walls, joined by the rattle of metal as she jerked against the cuffs. And, God, that was just…so…wrong. So…wickedly, decadently wrong.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Delicious.”

In the mirror, she saw his head dip and braced for more. But when the wet warmth slid over her sex again, she still bucked against the restraints, electric currents arcing through her body.

“Oh my God.” She was dizzy. Couldn't think. Could only feel all the sensation coursing and pulsing across her skin, deep into her sex, clouding her brain. “Oh my-”

He licked her, again.

And again.

Full strokes with that wide, flat tongue, smoothing away the prickling scratch of his beard and making her cry out with pleasure. Waves and waves of electric heat and pressure massaging her clit, her opening, her ass. The sight of him dipping his head before each stroke, the way he licked his lips after and met her eyes in the mirror just before he went down on her again, heightened anticipation and peaked pleasure.

She was trembling violently by the time he settled his mouth over her with constant pressure. She pushed against the lounge with her knees, rocking her sex toward him. He hummed, acknowledging her efforts, but showed no sign of quickening the slow plunge and retreat of his tongue into her pussy or the swirl of his tongue across her entrance or the purposeful scrape of his beard over her folds.

He lifted his head and blew on her wet skin. Exquisite tingles of torture raced across her sex. Her folds opened like a flower, reaching for his mouth. She whimpered and finally begged, “Please.”

“Angel,” he said, his voice low and raspy, “I thought you'd never ask.”

Then he closed his mouth over her pussy again, but this time with purpose. He ate at her with his lips and tongue, scraping with his teeth and beard, holding her on the razor edge between release and insanity.

“Please,” she cried. “Please, please. Yes.”

With a soul-shattering orgasm spiraling straight at her, she rocked back and into his mouth. She needed more pressure, and she needed it faster. His fingers dug into her thighs, and he growled. But he didn't touch her clit, which kept the orgasm just out of reach. “Please let me come,” she whimpered. “I want to come.”

He pulled his mouth off her with a pop of suction. “Then come.”

He lifted a hand and smacked her ass. Hard.

She jerked and cried out, more in shock than pain, but the sting radiated across her ass, into her sex, and pushed her closer to the edge. She bit her lip against the absurd burst of emotion, but the laugh still broke through. He'd spanked her, and it had brought her pleasure. This was all so insane.

But her laughter died instantly when he dropped his mouth back to her pussy, and his flat hand back to her ass. The slap ricocheted against the walls. The combination of pleasure and pain shot her out of her skin with tangled sensations but didn't allow her to climax.

He switched hands and smacked her other cheek, and the sting sang through her body. God, that was good. So good. And so wrong on some level. A level she'd think about later.

She opened her mouth to scream for more when he finally, finally, finally stroked her clit with his tongue, then spanked her again. Stroked her clit, spanked. Stroked, spanked. Stroked, spanked…right into the stratosphere.

She let out a scream at the orgasm's first wave, but it crashed hard, cutting off her air and contorting her body with ecstasy. The excitement pushed through and crashed, pushed, crashed, pushed, crashed. Leaving her quaking, shivering, spasming, and limp.

Her chest heaved. Her muscles quivered. Her hands ached where her fingers were fisted so hard, her nails had left a pattern of half-moons in her palms.

The sound of Disclosure's “You & Me” drifted to her ears, along with more sounds of sex in the room beyond. Her head was spinning so hard, she couldn't lift it from the lounge. She opened her eyes and found her hair spilled across her face.

The heavy strands cleared in one swoop, and the devil's brown eyes smiled into hers. Before she could ask him to let her go, he kissed her, his mouth hungry and hot.

“Wild,” he rasped pulling out of the kiss. “You're incredible.”

“Up,” she said, voice rough. “Can I…get up? I feel…so dizzy.”