Inherited Malice - Alta Hensley Page 0,16

at the ceiling, at the mirror reflecting myself, spread wide and skin flushed, dildo piercing my center and my other hand caressing my clit.

I was hot. I was sexy. I would take my orgasms even if I had to fantasize about Beau Radcliffe to get them. So I gave in and imagined his body over mine. In the mirror I imagined him climbing over me.

I imagined him pulling the dildo out of my hand and tossing it to the floor like the other man had. I imagined him releasing that perfect cock of his and thrusting inside me, unable to hold back any longer. He’d be rock hard from watching me and thinking about me even though he hadn’t wanted me to see, pretending to drink and not wanting me to know how obsessed he was at the thought of my hot cunt.

But he’d finally plunge home to where he’d wanted to be from the second I’d kicked off my leggings upstairs. Oh God, yes, he’d sink inside me. One hand would be at my throat, thumb at my lips, shoving his way inside.

I’d cry out around him because in one thrust, I was already climaxing as soon as he bottomed out deep inside, yes, oh God, yes—

God, what did this man do to me? It wasn’t fair. But oh God, I gave in to it. I arched into him, his weight pressing me back down, possessing me, pushing my limits, grinding against my clit—

I screamed as my orgasm lit higher. I’d thought I was at the climax, but I’d been wrong. It was just another ledge on my way up the mountain, and I was only beginning to glimpse the supernova at the real peak.

My legs began to tremble at the same time occasional hard spasms rocked my body with the sharp pleasure. Oh God, so good, so ecstatic and sharp, pointed. I was shaking again, more spasms, more, oh God more—

I scrubbed harder at my clit, now, all gentleness gone. My eyes were closed as I alternatively arched and coiled in ecstasy, fucking myself with the dildo and squirming against the hand rubbing my clit when—

“Knees,” a gruff voice suddenly demanded.

My eyes flew up, and I was genuinely shocked when I saw Beau standing there in front of me. Not just a fantasy anymore. It was the real man. His face was pinched, his complexion pale, but it was his eyes where I saw it—his eyes were burning with lust.

“Knees,” he repeated, and this time he snapped and pointed at the floor as if I hadn’t gotten his message the first time.

I did. Oh, hell yes, I did. Especially since he was roughly yanking his belt open like he couldn’t get the damn thing unbuckled quickly enough.

Internally, I lit up. I’d driven Beau Radcliffe past his oh so precious control. Just like the night I’d met him, his walls were coming down. That night it had been because of liquor, but right now it was all because of me. I’d driven him to this.

His dark eyes warned me I might pay for it, too, especially when I hadn’t moved quickly enough and he was already pulling out his full, pulsing cock.

I scrambled off the bench and fell to my knees in front of him. When I started to pull the dildo out, he shook his head in one sharp motion.

“Keep fucking yourself with it and writhing like you were while you suck me off. You better keep fucking orgasming like you just were while you suck me. I want to feel you going wild. But don’t fucking bite.”

I licked my lips as I looked up at him through my lashes. “Yes, sir.”

His nostrils flared like he was about to ream me out for my impudence, but I cut him off by tonguing his cock and eliciting the manliest groan from him.

I couldn’t bear to tease him much more because frankly I wanted him in my mouth as much as he seemed to need it. Usually giving head didn’t do much for me, but just like with sex with Beau, this was different too.

For one, there was the way he clasped my head. He didn’t do what some guys did. He didn’t grab my head and hold it still so he could fuck it like I was some kind of sex doll.

No, he held it and caressed my hair back from my forehead in a way that made the act somehow incredibly… intimate. And I could feel the way