What You Crave (1Night Stand): Desperately Seeking Submissive Page 6
He untied and discarded the ankle binding, then pulled her up off the table.
Face flushed and gaze confused, she shook her head slowly. “Why are you stopping?”
“I need you. Need to see you ride me.”
***
Sig fell back on the couch with Lauren on top, straddling him. She reached for him drawing his cock between both palms. He was fire, velvet, and steel all-wrapped-in-one. He’d pleasured her, drove her fucking insane. Yes, she wanted to swear in six different ways at how he set her afire, making her buck like some desperate, wild thing, and then denying her the full tie-up adventure. Yet, she understood his need to be close. The same yearning clawed at her mind, too.
She slid off him, down to the floor, never letting go of his cock. She traced the tip with her tongue. A drop of precum emerged like an early present and she lapped it up. His fist wrapped in her hair, but he let her lead. She didn’t swallow him whole, recalling his earlier statement labeling himself a Dom and a masochist. He liked to be denied, and deny she did. Tracing the length of him with her tongue, down one side and up the other before he tugged on her hair and she stopped.
He held out a wrapped condom. “Get up here.”
She obeyed, letting her pussy hover and tease. For a faint moment she imagined them together exclusively and him driving into her bareback. She imagined his tan hands tracing her pale belly, large with child. Sure, a little bit rushed, but they were visions she’d avoided with her ex. Sig inspired crazy ideas and wild notions she’d never entertain under normal circumstances.
“Put the condom on me.”
A slow, torturous stretch, and he hissed when she massaged him, rolling the latex down the length of his shaft. Fire burned in those dark brown eyes and he gripped her waist, squeezing tight before he guided her down. She tried to fight against him as he entered her, a torture all its own, wanting his cock to pound inside her passage. But those firm arms kept her from achieving the desperate fullness she craved.
Half-inch by half-inch he submerged into her, gaze locked on hers. She’d been trying to stay silent, except her mouth kept opening subconsciously, wanting to speak out. To beg.
“Tell me.” Sig, the fucking masochist, wanted her to vocalize.
So she did. “I want you to fuck me, please. So hard I’ll remember this for weeks.”
He drew a sharp breath and for a moment everything stopped. Then he kissed her, rough and messy. Tongues, teeth, and lips desperate for connection… for taste. When they broke apart he slammed his cock all the way into her.
As he drove in and out, she marveled at how he fit her as if made for her pussy alone. Coupled with the rhythm were his fingers digging into her hips, no doubt leaving marks. He added to the pain by biting her shoulder, hard. Her body tensed and her brain went fuzzy, like how she felt right before going to sleep. A plane where nothing existed except pleasure, and all stood at peace.
How long it continued she didn’t know. This time when her orgasm crested and a keening cry left her lips, she saw stars, everything more vivid than her last release. He came at the same time, jerking against her body and holding her tight against him.
Lauren collapsed against his shoulder, spent.
All too soon he moved her, positioning her on the couch before he left. She closed her eyes to rest, a smile on her face. Sig symbolized perfection. Demanding, thoughtful, and everything she wanted. Even his mistakes endeared her, since he’d learned from them, unlike others.
A warm cloth caressed her leg and her lover’s voice spread over her like syrup on pancakes. “Let me clean you up.”
She spread her legs, allowing him access and he administered to her as one would to someone they love. “Do you do this for all your subs?”
“No, because most of them I never slept with.”
Her eyes flew open when he slid both arms under her. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed,” he replied with a smile.
Once inside the bedroom, he laid her down and pulled the covers up. The sheets were cool against her skin and sprouted gooseflesh everywhere they touched. Turning off the lights, he climbed in beside her. A domestic moment, for sure. One she easily imagined happening every night.
“Are you serious about this…us?” She waited, unable to face him. Maybe he changed his mind.
He grabbed her shoulders and tugged. Rolling with the motion, she faced him. “Lauren.” Her name sounded like a plea. “I can’t think of anything I crave more.”
They curled up then, entwining legs and arms. He pressed soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks, before giving one final command. “Sleep, so we can have more adventures tomorrow.”
Sign up for the Decadent Publishing Newsletter here http://eepurl.com/SQ75f and never miss stories like:
What You Need by Landra Graf
Chapter One
A simple knock would grant him entrance to a suite in one of the most expensive hotels in the tri-county area. Royce clutched his canvas bag and stared at the room number plate. According to Madame Eve, a beautiful woman stood behind the barrier, one who could make all his fantasies come true. He had plenty of ideas rattling around in his head, and being with a gorgeous woman who accepted his desires would make the night perfect. He rocked on the balls of his feet, checked the time on his phone again, then put it on silent mode before another e-mail could chime through. Seven o’clock, time to...shit. He didn’t sleep with random women. Not now, not ever. But dominant women weren’t popping up around the corner and he’d paid for this.
Fuck it.
He rapped his knuckles on the heavy wood. Three solid taps. The door swung open slowly, revealing too much beauty to absorb at once, and his mouth dried. Red stilettos with tiny spikes all over them, legs that went on and on to lush curves, a short and sexy red dress, and gorgeous black hair. The dimmed hallway lights and non-existent ones in the room obscured her face, but that didn’t stop the jolt of pure lust, not helped by two years of celibacy, that speared straight to his cock. Without a word, she grabbed his tie, its black a stark contrast to her porcelain white, elegant fingers, and pulled him into the room. The latch clicked into place behind him and his bag fell to the floor when she shoved him against the cold, firm surface. Goose bumps rose on his skin along with the hairs on the back of his neck.
“Hi.” About the only word he managed before a pair of luscious, plump red lips descended on his. One sharp heel spike scratched the skin above his ankle. His trousers were tight and rough on his thighs, igniting a pleasurable pain in his pulsing erection. She molded her body to his, and her nibbling bites on his mouth sent his brain reeling. The press of her weight sparked his nerves. Lord, he hadn’t experienced anything like that.
Skin hot and flushed, he moved to embrace her and deepen the kiss. Instead, she grabbed his wrists and anchored them above his head; a simple gesture of dominance and one he’d never thought of as arousing until then. Her ministrations slowed to a crawl, as she opted for tracing the seams of his lips. He thrust his own eager tongue forward, desperate for another taste of spice and something familiar…a flavor of summer and sweet lemonade.
She pressed harder, her breasts crushed to his chest, his wrists still restrained, her nails biting into the flesh. Royce’s desire ratcheted up further. As he thought he might succumb to the most embarrassing release ever, she pulled away.
Panting, he tugged at his shirt collar. His date faced the window, out of the fan of illumination from low-lit lamps within the room. Curvy with toned arms and legs, her bare back on display, she stood straight and confident, her profile nothing less than stunning.
He took a deep breath and exhaled hard. What a way to start the night. Chemistry wouldn’t be an issue. But he also wanted a little conversation.
“That’s some way to say hello.” Chuckling, he grabbed his discarded bag and moved farther into the room.
“Yes, it is. But I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Her voice sounded sultry and all-too-familiar.
Holy fuck.
“Tori?”
“It’s Victoria nowadays.” She turned away from the window. “How’s life, Royce?” Her dark brown eyes appeared black and the desire in them reminded him of the erection from hell he still sported. She looked nothing like he remembered. Her long hair was gone, replaced with a bob, and no longer a radical shade of pink or blue. Baggy clothes to cover her figure were obviously a thing of the past.
“How?” He’d just had an extremely arousing moment stuck between a solid surface and his ex-best friend. Stop thinking about sex. Tally that under the unexpected column. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Tori, or Victoria—whatever she called herself—bit her lip, a nervous habit she’d always had to avoid a topic or feared how her next words would be received, although right then it made him remember the things she’d done with her teeth to him a minute before. “I’ve been around.”
“That’s all I get after eight years of the silent treatment? We were best friends, prom dates, peaches and cream. You give me nothing and then kiss me like—” He cut off, not wanting to let his arousal become a verbal statement.
“Like what?” She sounded intrigued and playful. It pissed him off, like she didn’t care about his feelings.
Brutal truth, meet open air.
“Like you want to fuck me until I can’t think straight.”
Tori’s mouth spread into a wicked grin. “Really? So, no more thinking I’m only friend material then? No running away now that you know it’s me?”
“I’m not like you. I can handle a bit of an embarrassment and stick around.”
“Oh, you call our first kiss a little embarrassment.” She stepped toward him, tucking a chunk of her short, dark brown hair behind her ear. “I’d say baring my soul and confessing my love to the person I was closest to and then being told no, in so many words anyway, was more than little humiliating. I think I deserve some retribution, and your pitching a tent seems small in comparison. I also wouldn’t be so quick to call that kiss just now embarrassing. Judging by your pants, you agree.”
Damn. Clenching his fists, he willed himself to calm the fuck down. “I’d like to think you know me better than that. You’d been drinking that night. I don’t get involved with someone under the influence. You threw me off guard.”
Not to mention he’d been unable to admit his submissive nature to her back then, but he didn’t want to go back down the sex road. Not yet, anyway.
“If I remember correctly, you weren’t one for one-night stands either. I can see that’s changed.”
“Not entirely. I don’t expect…a quick screw, but some conversation. Something beyond physical stimulation.” He waved a hand toward the door, wanting to change the subject to something a little safer. Like why she never bothered to talk to him since that night. “Tori, did you think I wasn’t going to apologize the next day? Hell, I did. In a text. In a voice mail.”
“I never got the messages. I changed my number first thing in the morning.”
The words tore at the wound of their split, cracking it wide open again.
“Why in the hell would you do that?” His voice rose in anger. “Where the fuck did you get off?”
Her eyes flashed, and in two quick strides she stood before him, resting a gentle palm on his cheek, the other cupping his erection. “Don’t ever raise your voice at me again or I’ll make sure you’re hurting and not in the good way. Also, my name is Victoria,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. It’s—”
“I’m sorry, too.” She stroked his straining cock. “I’m going to make it up to you. We can save the questions for later. That is, if the rest of you is up to it?”
His Tori would never have acted like that. The woman before him appeared more confident and assertive in her sensuality. The sole similarity between the two lay in the mischievous look her eyes held, and the fact he wouldn’t fight her. The one time he’d refused something she’d asked of him, she’d disappeared from his life.
“How do you plan to make it up to me?” In a hotel room with a hot, dominant woman…he couldn’t summon the words to tell her to stop. Not that he wanted to.
Leaning in, she placed a sweet kiss on him, then pulled back an inch. “You’ll see.”She went to work loosening his tie and removing it from his neck. His mind raced with possibilities.
“What are we go—”
“Shhh. Half the fun of an experience is the mystery and wonder of what will happen. Trust me.” She slipped the loop of the tie around one wrist and moved behind him, securing his arms behind his back. Holy hell. She planned to tie him up; something he never would have expected from his childhood playmate.
“I’d be fine with a simple conversation.”
“But I owe you so much more than that.” She wrapped her arms around his chest. The spike heels made her tall enough to rest her head on his shoulder. Seconds of anticipation passed, then a hot breath, coupled with a swipe of liquid heat on his ear lobe. Victoria unbuckled his belt. He shuddered.
“See, Royce, you need some assistance.” At the mercy of her assistance, he hoped it ended with release. “Now, I’m going to do a few things. I want you to feel them.”
Dipping beneath the band of his boxer briefs, she gripped his cock and drew him free. The rush of semi-cold air in the room and the heat of her palm had him jerking in response. “Vic—”
“Hush now. Don’t talk. Just feel. And if you come before I tell you to, this will be the first and last thing we do together this evening. I’ll kick you out before you even get your dick back in your pants. Nod if you understand.”
Royce obeyed and she stroked gently, then firmly. When he shivered, she fondled his balls, keeping him on edge, her efforts both heavenly and maddening. Bound the way she desired, he didn’t dare speak, fearing she’d stop her ministrations.
He bit the inside of his cheek to stifle his groans, but when she cupped his balls and tightened her grip around his shaft, a moan tore loose. Victoria circled and dropped to her knees in front of him. Snaking her tongue out, she traced up and down both sides of his cock. As she laved at the pre-cum from the tip, he rose on the balls of his feet toward her hot breath.
She glanced up, light catching the deep golden flecks in her eyes, her expression beautiful and determined. She flicked the tip of his cock with one finger, the pain a sharp contrast to the earlier pleasure of her tongue. A perfect balance. “I think for all the trouble you’ve put me through, you deserve to be cold-cocked.”
Standing, she dragged his pants partially up with her and backed him into one of the four bedposts. “Hold onto that. You’ll need the support.”
Royce wrapped his hands around the post as best he could. The cool wood felt good against his heated skin. Victoria had him more aroused then he’d ever been.
She shifted from the table next to the TV, and slipped something between her lips. Sinking to the carpet in front of him, she grabbed his cock and inserted him into her warmth. Extreme cold and heat surrounded his cock in heaven and agony. Ice. His climax neared and he gripped the post for dear life. The pressure built as the ice melted and she sucked. He needed release: soon.
Leaning back, she began to piston her hand around his cock. “Come. Now.”
The words were the final push he needed, and his balls clenched. He watched, mesmerized by the sight of his cum jetting into her mouth, and shuddered through the final release. His vision blurred.
She swallowed and licked her lips. “You can let go of the post now.”
He collapsed.
“Oh, hell. Royce? Are you okay?” Victoria went to her knees. His pulse ran a little fast. She ruffled his hair, hoping to see a change in his closed eyes, praying she didn’t hurt him or make an error.
Then reaching behind him, she removed the tie around his arms. “Get up.”
With her tender touch on the side of his cheek, he started to move, his skin damp and cold compared to hers.
/>
“Tori….” Royce attempted to sit up on his elbows then fell back again. “Crap. Sorry about that.”
“Can you stand?” Standing, she leaned over to help him up.“ Actually, give me a minute. I just need a drink.” He squinted and beads of sweat formed on his brow, his skin unnaturally pasty.
“Hold on.” She’d forgotten about Royce’s hypoglycemia. He’d been that way since they were kids, always needing at least a snack every couple of hours. “When’s the last time you ate?”
He blinked several times. “Around lunchtime.
“Have anything in that duffle of yours?”
“A protein bar in the left pocket.”
“Stay still.” Victoria shot to his bag and dug in the side pocket, found the snack, and helped him peel back the wrapper. “And here I thought all this fainting stuff was because I blew your mind.”
“Still good at the bad jokes, I see.” He nibbled.
“Yes, always good at bad jokes. Now, how about I order us some real food?”
While chewing, he tucked his cock back in his pants with his free hand. His actions were slow and controlled, hands steady due to the carbs, normal color back in his cheeks. “Don’t think you can continue to postpone our detailed conversation with food. I can’t be bribed.”
Victoria grinned at how delicious he appeared: his brown hair in disarray, pants loose and unbuttoned, food muffling the words. He seemed younger in the candlelight, a near, spitting image of the teenage boy she’d embraced in a beat-up Honda CRX. “I think I remember you could be bribed easily if it involved Philly cheesesteak and peach cobbler.” She walked to the cabinet and poured him a glass of water.
“Fine, I’ll agree to the food, but I want to discuss the last eight years over dinner.” He straightened his shirt the best he could, the fabric nearly see-through with sweat. He wouldn’t relent. The lone dominant part of Royce had always been his stubbornness when resolving arguments or during tough conversations. If she truly didn’t want to talk about it, she could make him quit asking, but it wouldn’t be fair. No doubt he’d weasel his way into discussing their past one way or another.