Dare to Submit(19)

The sound of his name was hell on his restraint, but he managed to hang on. She arched her hips toward his mouth, and he nibbled at her, teasing, tasting, biting, bringing her to the brink before deliberately stopping.

“Please, no. Don’t stop,” she practically wailed, her body trembling beneath him as she fought against his firm grip on her legs.

He nuzzled her thighs with his nose and mouth, then released her long enough to pull a condom from his pocket. He unzipped his jeans and shed them in one smooth shove down his legs. He covered himself quickly and grasped her legs once more. A low, shuddering sound escaped her throat, impaling him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

Because he liked holding on to her, he realized. Though he enjoyed the power he possessed, it wasn’t the same sense of control he normally sought. This was a different kind of satisfaction. One that came from knowing she craved his touch, craved him as much as he did her.

It was mutual. And that mattered to him for the first time. The urge to thrust into her was strong, but so was the unusual urge to tease, play, and please her again. He grasped his c**k in one hand and ran the length along her wet, needy sex.

She sucked in a shallow breath. Her body bucked on the table. He didn’t let up, teasing her clit, gliding his hard erection over and over the tiny bud that gave so much pleasure.

“You like that?” he asked.

She moaned a reply.

He chuckled through gritted teeth and circled his c**k over her damp mound, pushing himself down harder, deliberately stimulating her to the point of no return. She slapped her hands against the tabletop, her back arched, her body convulsing, as low groans accompanied her climax.

He had her just where he wanted her, lost to sensation, but waited until the tremors ebbed before parting her sex with his fingertips and pressing the head of his c**k home. She was slick and ready for him yet still tight. He slid out and pressed in once more, feeling the drag and pull as he plunged in, his body snug and buried inside her.

He glanced down, taking in the sight of her gripping and holding him. “Look.”

She pushed onto her elbows. Glanced down, her chocolate eyes full of need.

“So f**king good, right? Watch us.” He slid out slowly, his c**k damp with her arousal, then thrust back. In. Out. In. Out.

“God, Decklan. I feel all of you.” She bent her knees, bracing her feet against the table, sighing in pleasure as the move sucked him in deeper.

Shit, she undid him. His emotions raw, his body on fire, the time for play was over.

“Hang on, baby.” He gripped her hips and hammered into her, her body sliding on the table, only his hands keeping her in place.

If he thought for a second he was hurting her, he’d let up, but her cries were of passion, and damn, they were hot. She clenched around him, milking his c**k with her hot pu**y. He wasn’t going to last long and wanted her with him when he blew.

He was so damned close; sweat slickened his skin, and he drove into her once, twice, and on the third time, he slid a hand between them and pressed on her clit. That’s all it took. She convulsed around him, and he stilled against her, spilling everything he had inside her.

As he shook with aftershocks, still catching his breath, she clasped her hands around his wrists. He caught his breath, his immediate instinct to pull free.

“Oh God, I’m still coming.” She ground herself against him, her small hands gripping him, her nails digging into his skin.

And suddenly what a woman wanted during sex meant more than what he’d always thought he needed.

EIGHT

Amanda woke up naked, sore but exquisitely happy. A hot, sexy man who’d more than satisfied her sexually lay sleeping by her side. There was something so strong about Decklan. Beyond the physical, she felt like they connected on a more intimate level. So much so that she’d revealed things about her childhood and her mother she’d never told anyone else in her life. Except Brad, and that had been a long time ago.

She almost wished… Nope, she wouldn’t go there. She had the weekend to herself, and she intended to make the most of it by enjoying and not dwelling on things she couldn’t have. At least not without hurting people she cared about in the process.

Decklan rolled over to his back on a big groan. A glance told her he was still out cold. His profile was as strong in sleep as awake, but there was something more vulnerable about him. That vulnerability called to her, tugged at her emotions and, again, made her want to dig deeper … which wasn’t fair.

So she cut that thought off and focused on a more fun one. He’d kicked off his side of the covers and lay sprawled naked for her hungry gaze. His skin was tanned to a golden glow, a slight dusting of dark hair covered his chest, and his muscles were impressive. Her gaze traveled downward. Another light sprinkling of hair took a path south, leading to his impressive hardening erection. It was as if he was aware of her gaze, even in sleep.

She was tempted to lie down on top of him and bring him awake slowly, then inch downward and take him into her mouth. She moaned at the thought. But she respected his need for lack of touch, and so she changed her mind and aligned her body against his side instead.

She briefly rested her cheek against his forearm, closing her eyes and soaking in how right she felt here, with him. A small kiss on his roughened skin and then she tucked her head into his shoulder.

He shifted, but before she could ask if he was awake, the doorbell rang, jarring them both.

She rolled over and looked at him. “Morning.”