Anew: Book One: Awakened (13 page)

“I’d just like to know,” he says, “so I can plan
accordingly.”

I manage a weak laugh. The impact of my behavior is
beginning to sink in. I did…that. Apparently rather well despite having no real
clue when I started. After some initial discomfort and uncertainty, I enjoyed
it. The only downside I can see is that it has left me squirming in the grip of
acute, unsatisfied arousal.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” he asks, giving me an all-too
knowing look.

Hmmm…I can tell him the truth, in which case I’m willing to
bet that I’m mere minutes away from a screaming, gasping, back-arching
Ian-provided orgasm. That’s very tempting except it will put him in control
once again.

Or I can… I run my hand down his chest, over his flat,
sculpted abdomen and give his cock a friendly pat. It nestles into my palm with
what feels like real affection. We’re really hitting it off.

“Not at all,” I say, “except I think I’m the one whose
overdressed now.”

His eyes narrow, taking on a smoky cast. “What are you going
to do about it?”

I take a step back and, holding his eyes, reach around to
the zipper of my dress and slowly pull it down. When it’s free, I slip the
froth of silk and chiffon from my shoulders and let it slide past my waist and
hips and onto the floor. Ian’s quick intake of breath delights me. I’m left in
nothing but a lacy bustier and a scrap of panties that amount to little more
than two triangles connected by narrow ribbons tied just below my hips.

Looking at me, Ian mutters, “I am a dead man.”

His cock seems to think otherwise, jerking as it does with
obvious enthusiasm. I grin but an instant later my lips open in a soft,
helpless O of pure arousal. Holding my eyes, Ian wraps his hand around himself
and strokes up and down. Despite his release mere minutes before, his erection
lengthens and hardens quickly.

My mouth goes dry. What he’s doing is so…wanton, so
deliberate, so erotic. No wonder I feel like putty in this man’s hands. When he
chooses, he’s a purely sensual being unhindered by any inhibitions. And I
actually think that I can take him on and win?

As though he guesses my thoughts, Ian smiles. Still stroking
himself, he says, “You’re more than welcome to get back on your knees, sweetheart.”

I can’t endure any more of the fun I’ve just had, not with
my own arousal growing by the minute. Hardly able to breathe, I get out the only
word I can manage--‘bed’--and gesture for him to precede me.

His eyebrows shoot up and I gather that I’m perilously close
to crossing the line but I don’t care. In this golden room, I am Venus,
embodiment of desire, and he can damn well lie down on my altar because I tell
him to.

He takes a step toward it…another… His compliance clearly
surprises him. “What you do to me,” he murmurs.

Implicit in the look he shoots me is what we both know to be
true. I’m going to pay for all this and sooner rather than later.

A delicious shiver moves down my spine as I contemplate his
retaliation. Perhaps my imagination doesn’t reach far enough because it fails
to discourage me.

When he is stretched out on his back on the golden bed--a
big, fully aroused male with a decidedly dangerous look in his eyes--I press a
knee into the mattress and lift myself up and over so that I am straddling him.
Settling on his upper thighs, I smile down at his cock.

“Hi, there,” I say. “Remember me?”

I can’t help but giggle when it bobs in response. “We’re
getting along so well, aren’t we? Too bad the grumpy fellow you’re attached to
doesn’t seem to fully appreciate that.”

I lean a little closer and whisper to it, “I think he’s
plotting to get back at me.”

The cock nods in agreement.

“Oh,” I say, “you think so, too? I’ll bet you even know what
he has planned.”

Another nod, more emphatically this time.

“Should I be worried?”

Nod.

“Really worried?”

Nod.

“Any way you can convince him to go easier on me? He listens
to you.”

It sways back and forth in what I interpret as a “maybe yes,
maybe no” gesture.

“Oh, I hope so. What can I do to convince you to help?”

Ian gives a strangled laugh. I ignore him and continue
addressing his cock.

“You’re going to make me guess, aren’t you? Well, then,
let’s see--”

I’m at a momentary loss until inspiration strikes.
Straightening up, I slide my hands under the lacy top of the bustier and free
my breasts. Remembering how he touched me there, I stroke my nipples, catching
each between my thumbs and forefingers and twist lightly. His sharply indrawn
breath tells me that I’m on the right track.

“You like that, don’t you?” I ask his cock.

Nod.

Hmmm, what else would it like? A thought occurs to me so
wanton, so salacious…so naughty that my cheeks flame. It grows stronger and
more urgent with each passing moment. I want to do this…I need to--

Slowly, not daring to look at Ian, I reach my arms around to
my back, in the process causing my breasts to jut out even farther. I undo the
bustier and toss it on the floor. I’m left in nothing but the tiny scrap of
lace between my legs.

As slowly as I dare, I tug first on one bow, then the other
and pull my panties forward so that they rub deliciously against me. Dangling
the scrap of silk from my fingertip, I toss it over my shoulder but not before
noticing how wet it is. Slick, warm juice is flowing from me. I ease a hand
between my thighs, catch that moisture on my fingers and--

The inner curves of my breasts glisten wetly as I rub the
warm fluid of my own arousal between them. Above me, I’m distantly aware of
Ian’s ragged groan but his cock gets all my attention. I'm finding that it’s
much easier to deal with than the man himself. Despite its size and power, it’s
nowhere near as intimidating or complicated.

I scoot down a little and position my decidedly not little
friend between my moistened breasts, squeezing slowly as I rub up and down.
Drops of creamy liquid begin to ooze from the tip. Leaning closer, I catch them
on my tongue.

As I do so, I glance up. What I see robs me of breath. Ian’s
features are tightly drawn and beads of sweat glisten on his forehead. But more
than that, he has grabbed hold of the headboard of the bed with both hands in
what I can only guess is a last-ditch effort to leave me in control.

Before that becomes impossible, I rise and lower myself
slowly onto him, taking first the velvet tip so engorged that it’s the color of
a ripe plum, followed inch by inch by his long, thick shaft. I have to stop
several times and take quick breaths, so overwhelming is the sensation of being
filled and stretched.

“Don’t try to take more than you can, baby,” Ian says. His
voice is harsh and rasping but his concern couldn’t be more clear. “I’ll go
very deep this way, maybe too deep for you.”

I shift a little, unwilling to give up and my body opens
completely, admitting him those last few inches until his tip is nudging
against my the wall of my womb and his sack brushes my bottom. The sensation is
exquisite--achy without actually being painful. I haven’t felt this before and
it leads me to wonder if he’s held back in the past when he was always in
control.

Lowering my head, I rack my teeth lightly over his chest as
I begin to move on him. “No holding back this time,” I murmur. “I want all of
you.”

He makes a guttural sound and arches against me. I
straighten and begin a long, slow undulation, rippling along his length, moving
up and down on the thick iron-hard shaft while curling my hips so that my
tight, wet sheath slides caressingly around him.

I want to make this last--forever would be nice--but my own
arousal dictates otherwise. My need is building, becoming all-consuming. But I
want him with me, want him not merely to give me control but to lose
it--completely, utterly, because of what I can do to him.

I, Amelia. Not whoever or whatever he expected me to be and
most emphatically not any other woman he has ever been with. Only me, entirely
and uniquely myself.

For that, I’m more than willing to hang suspended on the
edge of my own orgasm while using every inch of my body to pleasure him. My
thighs tighten around his as I rise again, almost to the tip of him, before
lowering myself to take him more quickly, increasing the pace, loving the
delicious friction inside me. My hands cup my breasts, my fingers pulling and
tugging at my nipples as he watches, his gaze filled with a wild, primal heat
that steals my breath.

Faster…my head flung back, moans I cannot contain escaping
me, the musky aroma of sex, the wet slap of our bodies against each other, all
combine in a sensory overload that threatens to shatter me. But not yet…not
before him…

“I love how your cock gets even bigger right before you
come,” I murmur in between pants. “How you throb against the walls of my…” What
was that rather indelicate word he used? “…of my pussy. How you fill me with
your thick, hot seed and--”

A harsh, feral roar breaks from him. His hands fly free, seizing
my hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to mark me. His grip is merciless,
his intent clear. I’ve had what I asked for and now he’s taking back control.

“You want me hot and hard, baby?” he growls. “You got it.”

He thrusts hard, again and again, driving me relentlessly.
The world shimmers, dissolving and I go with it, falling…flying…both at once.
My inner muscles clench, grasping him even more tightly. Distantly, I hear
myself cry his name. The sound flings me over the heights and into sweet, incandescent
oblivion.

When I’m next aware of anything, I’m sprawled over Ian’s
body. He holds me close, one hand stroking me gently as the other remains
curved on my hip, keeping me in place against him.

I taste his skin and smell the heady elixir of our bodies. A
deep sigh of contentment rises from me.

He moves slightly, enough so that our gazes meet. “All
right?”

I nod. Being there with him, feeling so safe, emboldens me.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Being in control like that was amazing.
Although honestly, I didn’t think you’d last that long.”

His eyebrows arch. “Pardon?

My face flames as I realize how what I just said could be
interpreted. “I mean…letting me have control. I didn’t think you could keep it
up that…”

Gar! I sound like I’m doing it deliberately when I swear I’m
not. Am I?

Ian’s shoulders are shaking. His laughter is rich and deep
but his gaze when he turns it on me again is hot and oh, so breathtaking.

Without warning, he moves, flipping me over onto my back so
that our positions our reversed and his deliciously heavy weight bears down on
me. His smile is pure salacious challenge.

“Let’s find out how long I really can last, baby,” he says.

Raising himself onto his knees, he takes hold of both my
ankles in one hand and lifts my legs, bending them to either side of me. Gazing
down, he gives me a smile that is pure sexual invitation.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you like this,” he
says.

My face flames. I’ve never felt so vulnerable. “Ian…?”

“Easy, baby,” he says soothingly. “I’ll take care of you.”
He strokes a finger along my hot, swollen cleft and smiles when I quiver. “God,
I love your pussy, so tight and hot. I want to take all the time in the world
with you, keep you hovering on the edge, watch you writhe and listen to your
little cries. All night, maybe, after I’ve had you and you think you’re sated.
Only you’ll discover that you aren’t, far from it.”

Another stroke, ending with a flick against my distended
clit. “Men are dumb shits to ever think that we’re superior to women,” he
muses. “Your guts, your stamina, your willingness to create the future by
bearing and nurturing children is awe-inspiring. It’s only fair that your
capacity for pleasure is so much greater than our own.”

He raises his head and smiles at me. “All we can do is sit
back and enjoy it.”

But he isn’t, sitting back that is. He continues stroking
me, his fingers gentle but remorseless, sliding through the silk fluid oozing
from my vagina, spreading it to my clit which he circles slowly, a little
faster…a little more--

I can feel my orgasm gathering…so close--

His tongue replaces his finger, lapping at me in long slow
strokes…sucking…

Moaning, I arch higher, closer to him, desperate for what he
is giving me. I am on the very edge, teetering when he suddenly draws back. I
sob in protest. In response, he runs his hand from my drenched sex all the way
up my body to my mouth, thrusting his fingers saturated with my taste into me.

“I want you to come on my cock,” he says and drives into me
in a single, relentless thrust that buries him to the hilt.

I have no time to adjust to him and I don’t want any. He
puts his weight on my legs, stretching me even further. I’ve never been so
full, so complete…so ready… One thrust, another, one more and that's all it
takes. I explode, my inner muscles clenching him so tightly that he groans in
turn but continues to move, driving me higher and higher until at last he finds
his own release and sags against me, his cock still in me, his weight holding
me down, his breath hot against my breasts.

“I can’t get enough of you, Amelia,” he rasps. “I want you
beyond madness. Where you’re concerned, there are no limits.”

I am drifting, my body limp, when he stirs against me. In
the darkness of the golden room, he raises his head to kiss me deeply, a sweet,
tender kiss at first but soon his tongue is plundering my mouth. There is a
fierceness in his touch that I cannot fully grasp. I can only reach for him,
meeting his passion with my own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first gray light of dawn is edging up over the balcony
beyond the golden room when I stare into the mirror on the wall opposite the
foot of the bed where I am kneeling. My wrists are lashed behind my back with
the leather belt, my legs are stretched over the lean hips of the man who is
pounding into me, maintaining a cascade of orgasms that have come one after
another and another without respite for so long that I have given up pleading,
if only half-heartedly, for them to stop.