After Hours (14 page)

I half sat up, sucking in a silent gasp. Kelly smirked, that elusive smile filling
me with a different pleasure, one that tumbled around warmly between my ribs. Another
stroke, and the affection was gone like smoke. He drew his length out, dipping two
fingers inside me and slicking the wetness over my clit. My legs jerked and I groaned.

“Hush.” He rubbed me, slow and unmistakably patronizing. His erection beat hot against
my inner thigh. “You miss my cock?”

“Yeah.”

He clasped himself, angled his dick and drew it along my lips, over my clit. I bucked,
grasping his other wrist. Another sinister smile and a couple of swipes of his hard
flesh, then he sank back inside.

“Now don’t you mistake yourself.” His slippery fingers pinched my clit.

“Oh.”

“Shhh.” He circled the spot. “This isn’t permission. You don’t come ’til I tell you
to. And I’m not telling you yet.”

But it was impossible. I might as well will my heart to stop beating. The entire world
became his cock claiming my cunt, his fingers teasing my pleading clit, the atmosphere
built from his smell and voice and the sound of his skin on mine. This was a force
of nature, a physical law. I was just as he wanted me—powerless. And he looked calm
now, so calm.

The need mounted, a desperate ache growing harder, tauter, angrier—pounding, white-hot
heat. With every glance of his fingertips, every plunge of his flesh into mine, another
push toward the ledge.

No. No no no no no.
But my body was begging, shrieking for relief. It had to show on my face.

“Don’t you do it,” Kelly warned, cock drilling, cruel fingers stroking light as a
whisper, hot as a bonfire. Daring me or forcing me. And it was his voice that did
it. Five little words and I was gone. “Don’t you fucking do it.”

The world shrank to a pinpoint, made of nothing but the friction between us, and Kelly’s
weight, his smell, the sound of his harsh breaths and the brutal length of his cock.
The pleasure burst against his fingers, spilling out warmth and pure sensation, a
wave of relief dragged back and chased by pleasure-pain. Too much, but he didn’t stop,
even as I grasped his wrist, begging. I shut my eyes, ground my head into the carpet.
Stop. Please
.

But he kept stroking with his cock and his fingers, stroked me until the pain was
shed, more pleasure hiding beneath. Scary pleasure, mean and violent. My hold on his
wrist faltered, trembling as he forced me toward a second orgasm, a screaming, furious
thing.

“Oh God.”

“Shut that mouth,” Kelly said, and it was the last thing I was aware of. I came like
a bolt, fast and blinding.

His fingers showed mercy this time. He left me shaking against the carpet, wrung out
and twitchy. I could hear myself. Wheezing breaths, primal groans. I sounded frightened.
And maybe I ought to be.

As my muscles unclenched, Kelly went dead-still. Gray eyes stared down from impossible
heights and he closed his hands around my hip bones.

“You defy my orders, you pay the price.”

His cock was gone. It was punishment in itself, leaving me deprived.

“Turn over. On your elbows.”

I fumbled back to all fours and lowered to my forearms, the steep position feeling
unnerving and degrading. I couldn’t turn and see him, and my butt was just . . . there.
My skirt slipped farther up my waist. Every point of contact I’d had with Kelly was
taken away, and whatever he had planned, I couldn’t see it or feel it.

The slightest huff of an inhalation, then—

SMACK
.

I gasped, cheek burning as though he’d pressed an iron to my ass. I couldn’t get a
breath in. Nothing like before, during the sex—

SMACK
.

The other side, just as sharp. My shoulders and arms shook and tears pooled in my
eyes.

Spatula
. I could say it. I
should
say it. I couldn’t take another—

SMACK
. Same as the first side, a searing sting like the fucking Devil had branded me. The
other cheek tingled, pain fading.

Say it. Say the stupid safe word.
But I didn’t.

Not that I couldn’t. I simply didn’t. Somehow, I chose not to. I wanted to feel what
lay beyond the pain.

The next smack brought the fire, but no fresh panic. It felt like . . . It felt like
every ounce of Kelly’s brutal body, his strength, concentrated to a laser focus. A
force I could never replicate. I was too small, too female, too timid—

SMACK
.

“Oh fuck.”

“One more, for talking.”

A final burning slap rang against my ass, then he began to rub. With both hands, a
rough massage to start but softening steadily, until it was just the faintest graze
of his palms over my fevered skin.

His hands moved to my waist, grabbing my skirt’s stretchy waistband and yanking it
over my hips and down my thighs. As he stood I rose to my hands, watching him. His
throat and chest were flushed pink, racing breaths given away by the flex of his belly
and the swell of his ribs.

“Get up.”

I was barely on my feet when he hooked an arm behind my knees. My skirt slipped from
my toes, fluttering to the floor. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been carried,
but he did so as easily as he might a child, around the corner and down the hall,
into his room. He laid me across the bed and flipped the blinds closed. I propped
myself up on my elbows, and for half a minute or more he stood at the bedside, studying
me with darting eyes.

His covers felt cold under my burning butt and rasped shoulders, but that stare didn’t
promise any respite. Neither did his cock, looking as hard as it had felt, claiming
my body on the floor. He wrapped it in his fist, and my mouth dropped open.

Since he’d told me what he had, outside the bar, about touching himself, thinking
about me . . . I’d gotten myself off fantasizing about it, a half dozen times or more.
Now here it was, live and in person. More explicit and real somehow, even with the
condom veiling my view, electric with dimension and smell and the intimidation of
knowing he wasn’t done with me. That I was staring at a cocked weapon, and I had bull’s-eyes
stenciled all over my body.

His pulls were slow. Pensive, as though he were perusing a menu.

“You look good on that bed,” he finally said. “Just like I imagined.” He sounded softer
now. Not tender, but my misgiving ebbed as I held his gaze. He approached and my heartbeat
sped, but it was excitement pulsing through my veins, not anxiety.

“Open your legs.”

My arousal flashed at the way he said it. Brusque and bossy, sure, but his voice was
tight, giving him away. I spread. He wedged his knees beneath my thighs, driving them
wider. I gasped at the contact, hard, hot muscle burning against the skin his palm
had savaged.

He held my waist as he guided himself back to my entrance, his cock feeling almost
cool against my swollen lips. With a long, deep push, he was all the way inside, so
smooth we could have been doing this together for years. He braced his hands at my
sides, and I counted the throbs of his arousal like a countdown clock, like a metronome
setting the rhythm of what was still to come.

“You feel me?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How do I feel?”

“Big. And thick. Hard.”

He began to move—deliberate motions designed to corroborate what I’d said. “Biggest
you’ve had?”

I nodded.

“Tell me.”

“You’re the biggest I’ve had.”

“So big it’s like you never got fucked before now.”

His tone said it wasn’t a question, so I held my tongue and got lost in the motions
of his body. Everything male and strong, owning me. Scary and comforting, needy and
protective, all at once. Unsure if I was allowed, I reached up slowly, and he let
me stroke his arms. His skin was more tan than mine, and stained with bruises. My
hands looked so small and pale, like they belonged to a delicate, make-believe creature.
These are the arms that keep me safe, at work,
I thought.
And turn me into a victim once I’ve stepped across Kelly’s threshold.

His thrusts grew deeper, a bit faster. The flex of his hips and abdominal muscles
were hypnotizing, like everything I’d ever wished pornography could be. So hot I’d
give up a week’s wages for a copy of this tape. Since I couldn’t, I’d just have to
record the moment.

“You like to watch,” he muttered, voice heavy and thick. “You wanna watch when I come?”

The second he asked, I knew my answer. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, you wanna see. Wanna see what you do to me.”

I nearly smirked, so surprised—what I did to
him.
This man no one got the better of, ever. Who’d seduced me with a guerilla campaign
and lured me to this very encounter against every scrap of my better judgment. What
I’d done to
him
. Even flat on my back, the notion made me feel seven feet tall.

“Yeah, Kelly. Let me see.”

He leaned back, drawing all the shadows away and giving me the perfect view of his
body. His gaze had dropped between us to the point of penetration.

“You’re so fucking wet.” A flurry of hard thrusts caught me off guard, then he slowed
again. “So wet. So fucking tight.”

That one made me squirm, but only for a second. I’d always shied at that term, thinking
it was somehow degrading, some virginity-exalting male fixation. But fuck it, I
did
feel tight. From his size, and my own pleasure. I was swollen and lush, and yeah,
tight. I’d had it all twisted. A tight pussy wasn’t about replicating innocence. It
was about a man feeling desired. And I wouldn’t begrudge Kelly a truth as deep as
that one.

He let me touch him however I wanted, and I ran my palms up his stomach and chest,
down his sides, and over his hips and ass. I drank it all in, knowing this could very
well prove the most extraordinary sexual experience of my life, and might be one of
the few and final times I got to be with him. Or
let
myself be with him.

“You like the way I fuck,” he growled, the
tell me
implicit in his eyes.

“I love how you fuck.”

A cruel smile, and he dropped back down, looming. I squeezed the hard swells of his
shoulders then held his hips. His breathing had changed. It was short and high in
his chest, speeding alongside his cock. His face looked harsh but the control was
bleeding out of him, eyes unfocused. If ever I had a chance to steal a scrap of his
power, this was it.

“You gonna come for me, Kelly?”

He answered with a throaty, “
Oh
,” and I knew I had him.

“Show me.”

“I will. I’ll let you see. Let you see what I’ve imagined, every fucking time I’ve
shot in my hand, thinking about you.”

Just like that, he stole back the reins, left me wordless and hazy, all my blood throbbing
around his cock and not a single thought in my skull.

“I’ll show you,” he promised, and trailed off. Pleasure had the better of him. It
drove his racing strokes, escaping his lips in heavy grunts.

I could see it—the exact moment we reached his point of no return. Eyes narrowed to
slits, lips flushed, face mean, so mean. I grabbed his punishing hips just to feel
the muscles working, and locked my gaze on his driving cock.

He didn’t even make me beg.

He went dead-silent, face strained through a dozen fierce, sloppy thrusts. Then all
at once he jerked out, stripped the condom with a snap, and pumped himself in a rough
fist. His moan was soundless, lips round. With one arm braced beside my shoulder,
he pressed his crown to my belly on the first spurt, hot come lashing my skin. Again,
again, until his hand slowed. A single bead of sweat slipped down his cheek and chin,
hitting my collarbone like a raindrop.

Bleed on me,
I thought, holding his sides, feeling his ribs swell and contract.
Let me drown in your sweat and blood and come and every other filthy thing that makes
you this way.

I took a deep, hitching breath and stroked his sweat-damp hair, suppressing my urge
to kiss him madly. Maybe he’d have welcomed it, but I didn’t like the way I felt.
I wanted to kiss like this was love, like we’d just fucked to celebrate his proposing
to me. I was smart enough to keep the boundary between attraction and affection delineated,
and save those kisses for a man who’d recognize them for what they were.

Music drifted from the living room, rising and falling on a loop, the menu screen
of the movie.

When the agility returned to his limbs, Kelly moved to the edge of the mattress and
procured a hand towel from the side table drawer. He tidied me with stoic sweeps,
sleepiness already dulling his gaze. We settled on our sides, my back hugged tight
to Kelly’s front, both of us sweaty and ripe and spent. His palm rested on my ribs,
once possessive, now feeling heavy and lazy, even fond.

“So,” he said at length, lips against my neck.

“Yes?”

“You feel exploited or spoiled?”

“A bit of both.”

He made a cocky noise. “Good enough.”

I reached back to pat his hair, my dangerous predator pacified for now. “You were
right. There was something in it for me.”

He pressed his half-stiff cock to my butt, but he was wrong. Nice as that was, Kelly
had been the treat. Kelly with his callous words and voice and fists, all that mastery
dressed up as sadism.

He was the best lover I’d ever had. So far ahead of the competition, I couldn’t even
recall their names or faces. When I’d amuse myself on quiet nights with memories of
this affair, I’d think of his cock, sure. But more than that, it’d be those bossy
hands and leveling eyes. It’d be Kelly, possessing me. Using me. And yeah, spoiling
me rotten. I’d slept with the enemy, and fuck . . . Who knew a chauvinist would make
such an incredible lay?

“You sticking around for day two?” he asked.

“Do I have a choice?”