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Authors: Winter Renshaw

ARROGANT PLAYBOY (62 page)

BOOK: ARROGANT PLAYBOY
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TWENTY-FIVE
 
 

DANE

 

I don’t make a habit of opening
myself up personally. I’m not fond of feeling or looking weak, and I absolutely
abhor the way people look at me when I tell them.

“You were a lost boy?” Her eyes
mist, and I hate that she’s feeling sorry for me.

“Don’t,” I say.

“Don’t what?” Her hand covers
my forearm.

“Don’t look at me like that,
like I’m some lost soul you feel sorry for.”

“What those FLDS communities do
to those young boys is awful. Of course I’m going to feel sorry for them. For
you
. You were a victim.”

I need something stronger than
this Moet and Chandon, but right now it’s all I have. I toss it back and pull
in a deep breath, wishing I could go back to the moment right before I told her
and change course.

“I don’t feel sorry for myself,
and I’ll be extremely displeased with you if you ever look at me like that
again.” I set my empty flute on a passing tray, forcing her to release her hold
on me.

“It’s okay to be vulnerable
once in a while.”

“Not for me, and we’re done
discussing it.” I adjust the knot of my tie. “Let’s make a final round before
guests start leaving in droves. This party’s about to end, and a new one will
be starting shortly.”

I extend my elbow, and her
delicate hand hooks my arm as we veer toward a group of bishops mingling with a
handful of lobbyists sponsored by wealthy benefactors. We’re all here raising
money to fight the good fight.

No young man should ever be
driven to a dirt road ten miles from the nearest town with no more than twenty
dollars in his pocket and a sack lunch. Watching the red tail lights of the
compound’s seventeenth Suburban disappear in a cloud of gravel dust was a
defining moment for me.

I’d like to think that was the
moment I first died inside. Discovering Jenessa’s secret was the second. I know
for a fact, I’ll never meet death again because I’m already dead on the inside.
I’m not capable of love, and I have no business fantasizing about such a
fleeting, temporary thing.

“Dane, thank you so much for
hosting this evening.” Margaret Hollingsworth floats up to my side, placing her
hand on my shoulder. She has a mother’s touch and delivery of a ball-busting
church elder’s wife. “We had a marvelous time. Do let us know if there’s
anything you need from us.”

“You’re most welcome, Margaret.
I have your number.”

We greet my leaving guests in a
makeshift reception line, and after we’ve said the final goodbye of the
evening, I turn to Bellamy.

“You’re quiet,” I say, eyeing
the curved staircase that leads to the north wing of the estate. “Are you
ready?”

Bellamy’s eyes close and slowly
reopen before she releases a sweet sigh. “I’m ready.”

Caterers swirl around us, and
the pianist packs up his sheet music. The cleaning crew sweeps, and spritzes,
and runs about with bags of trash.

But right now, it’s just us.

No one else exists.

No one else matters.

I take her hand, leading her
upstairs, and she trembles. Warmth radiates from her tender cheek the second I
stroke my hand across it and cup her face. The moment we’re around the corner,
I press her body against the closest wall and claim her mouth with mine.

Her tongue is champagne and
velvet. The kiss is deep. Needy. I’m not sure who needs it more, but I’m not
about to ruin this moment by giving two fucks. All that matters is this is
happening.

I grab the back of her dress,
yanking it apart in two pieces straight down the back. She gasps, pulling away
from me for a second.

“I’ve been dying to do that to
you.” I flash a crooked grin before smashing her lips once again. We let the
dress fall to a heap on the hallway rug, and my hands slide down her back
before cupping the underside of her cherry ass. She climbs me, her legs hooking
around my hips, and I carry her to the last room at the end of the hall.

I kick the door shut with the
bottom of my dress shoe and deposit Bellamy on the center of my four-poster
bed. The lace lingerie she dons looks amazing, but I know for a fact, a naked
Bellamy would look even better.

She kicks her heels off and
pushes herself back against a mountain of pillows, her chest rising and falling
as she watches me loosen my tie. I remove it with one fluid pull and work my
buttons. My cock throbs, pressing against my pants and aching to be inside the
beautiful ingénue who belongs only to me.

I’m not insensitive to the fact
that this will be her first time knowing what a real cock feels like inside
her. As much as I’d love to push her limits and fuck her seven ways from
Sunday, I’m going to have to find some satisfactory middle ground.

“You’re on my bed, Bellamy, but
I’m slightly confused as to why you’re not naked yet?” My pants fall to the
floor, and I climb across the bed, delighting when I catch the faint scent of
her arousal.

“Waiting for your command.”

“Good.” I reach toward her
breasts, feeling the peaked nipple protruding from her lace bra. My palm rakes
against it, pressing the fabric against her sensitive buds until her head falls
back into the pillows. “Do you like that?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “Please
don’t stop.”

I pull away, reminding her I
call the shots, and I’m still very much in control here. The drawer in the left
bedside table contains a few items I intended to use tonight, so I reach across
and slide it out.

Restraints. A blindfold. Some
toys. A condom. Since it’s her first time, we’re going back to basics.

I slip the red satin blindfold
over her eyes and graze my lips across hers just enough to tease her with the
false promise of a kiss. Restricting her vision will make every touch, every
lick, every graze, a thousand times more potent.

“Give me your wrists,” I say.
She doesn’t hesitate, and she doesn’t say a single word as I secure the black
straps to the bedposts and tighten them. “Ankles.”

Her shapely legs drag up the
bed cover, finding my hands in the dimly lit room. After securing her to all
four posts, I retrieve a feather tickler. I skim her full lips before softly
dragging it down her neck between her breasts and swirling it over top of her
mound.

“Would you like me to undress
you all the way?” I offer.

“Yes,” she heaves. “Please. I’m
ready.”

I yank her panties off,
dragging them across her constricting belly before unhooking her bra. Her
breasts react to the cool evening air, swollen and pert. My mouth takes a
nipple, swirling and sucking before releasing it.

My fingers trail down her
stomach again, and it caves in response. I stop at her mound, forcing her to
wait a few extra seconds because I can, and then I slip a single finger between
her wet folds.

“God, you’re so wet.” I push a
finger inside her, followed by a second, as my thumb circles her clit. “Every
part of you is extremely turned on right now.”

“All week,” she pants. “You
knew what you were doing.”

“Of course I did,” I smirk. “It
was your punishment. You withheld yourself from me that first weekend, this
week I returned the favor.”

I retract my hand and lean
down, running my tongue along her seam and barely grazing her clit. Her hips
buck from the tiniest level of sensation I gifted her, and she whimpers.

“You want that release, don’t
you, Angel?” I rest my hand on her inner thigh, feeling it shake and tremble.
“You’ve been waiting all week for this, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” She pushes her back into
the pillows and tugs on the restraints. “I’ve been so good. I’ve waited, just
like you said.”

I massage her again, just
enough that she bucks her hips.

“Fight it,” I direct. “Not
yet.”

Her knees fight against the
restraints, wanting to buckle together, but I pin them flat, giving her inner
thighs a light slap. “No, no, Angel. You’re giving yourself to me tonight, just
like you wanted. Do you still want to be with me?”

“I do.” Her tongue glides
across her bottom lip. “Please don’t make me wait. I don’t think I can wait
much longer.”

“You can and you will.”

I climb between her spread
legs, lowering my tongue a bit more. As much as I’d love to devour her all
night, the struggle is real. A few more licks and she’ll come all over my
tongue.

She moans through tightened
lips, her hands gripping and pulling at the restraints.

I’m hard as a rock, literally
aching. This demonstration in self-control is just as much mine as it is hers.

“Please, Dane.”

My activity pauses.

She called me Dane.

Not Master.

Eyeing her writhing body, I
know damn well it’s too late to stop any of this. She wants me, and God, do I
want her. But we’re not Dane and Bellamy. This isn’t some sensual, erotic
romance filled evening.

It’s just sex.

“You will address me as
Master,” I remind her, lightly slapping her inner thigh. She flinches and nods.

“Yes, Master. I’m so sorry.”

Perhaps she’s too distracted by
the intense physical reaction she’s fighting to worry about proper protocol.
I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt but only because my impatience is
beginning to get the best of me.

I reach across the bed for the
condom, tearing the packet with my teeth and gripping the base of my cock as I
slide it down. Positioning myself between her wriggling hips, I press the tip
against her clit, rubbing it back and forth, up and down.

“We’re getting close, Angel.” I
plunge the head into her soft, wet entrance. The muscles in her stomach ripple
and she tugs against the restraints once more. I push myself in another inch,
focusing on the way her body shakes in response. When I reach for her nipple
and twist it between my fingers, I plunge myself in all at once.

Bellamy moans through pursed
lips, her body tensing and releasing. I pull out and reinsert slowly, feeling
her tightness as she clamps around me. Even her body refuses to let me go. My
thrusts are soft at first, gentle. I gauge her arousal, ensuring I’m not going
to hurt her and pick up in intensity.

Harder. Deeper. Faster.

Her pussy is unspoiled.
Pristine. Perfect in every way.

“How does it feel?” I reach my
hand behind her ass, cupping it and pushing her into me as I thrust deeper.

“Amazing.” Her lips part, and I
lower mine to them to steal a brief kiss. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what? Kissing you
or fucking you?”

“Both.”

A slow smile takes up my face,
and I’m grateful she can’t see it. I’d hate for her to know exactly how much
I’m enjoying taking her innocence and having her wrapped around my throbbing
cock.

I can say with absolute
certainty, without even blowing my load yet, she was worth the wait.

She bucks against me as best
she can, considering she’s pretty tight, and I know she’s getting close.

But fuck, so am I.

I sink myself into her over and
over, slipping faster against her slickness and creating a hot friction
building up to the moment I’ve been waiting for since the day we met.

“You can come now.”

My final thrusts are
powerhouses, and the build up from the base of my shaft travels up until I
explode inside her clenched walls. Bellamy squeals and her chin juts forward as
her mouth forms a locked circle. I keep pumping until I’m completely spent and
the muscles in her face have finally relaxed.

“Dane,” she sighs.

I pull out and drag my
fingertips along her legs, un-cuffing her ankles and then traveling to her
wrists. When she’s free, she pulls off her blindfold and offers me the most
delirious smile.

“You’re not to call me Dane.” I
shouldn’t have to remind her twice. Sure, the woman is coming down from the
most intense orgasm she’s ever experienced in her life, but it’s no excuse.
“Not in bed. In bed, I’m your master.”

She climbs off the bed. “You
just screwed me. I can’t call you by your first name?”

Her arms fold across her chest,
indicating the wind has suddenly changed directions. Lucky for us, I’m a
skilled sailor who’s met more storms than smooth seas.

“Don’t,” I walk around the bed
toward her, running my palms down her arms. “Don’t ruin this beautiful moment
with a tantrum.”

“It’s not a tantrum. I just
don’t understand. We’re both adults. You had your cock inside me. I can’t call
you Dane?”

“Not during sex.”

“That makes no sense.”

“I’m still your Dom. You’re
still my sub. It makes perfect sense. Did you think something was going to
change because I took you home with me?”

She refuses to look at me now.
The sliver of moonlight peeking in through the break in the curtains paints a
picture of a girl with a chip on her shoulder. I pull her into my embrace. I’ve
given aftercare a million times, but never because of this.

BOOK: ARROGANT PLAYBOY
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