Fever Dream (11 page)

“Do you think I’ll hurt you?” he asked, sliding his hands down to squeeze her ass.

“Yes. I think you’ll steal part of my soul.”

He tilted her head back to look in her eyes. “Really? You believe that?”

“Yes. I want you so bad, but I’m scared. I’m so scared of what you’ll do to me.”

“Ah,
querida
,” he sighed, his cock jumping at her softly spoken words. “You know what, though? Is okay to be scared.”

*** *** ***

Is okay to be scared. Is okay to be scared.

She gasped as he backed her toward the wall, pinning her with his body. While she was still processing his heat and his closeness, his mouth closed over hers in a ravishing kiss. His tongue warred with hers, his hands roving over her stomach, her waist. His palm slid lower to press against her pussy through her sleep pants. Oh
God
, his fingers. He could make her do anything with those fingers. She didn’t want him to stop but some self-preserving impulse made her push him away.

“No,” she said. “Haven’t you been listening?”

“I’ve been listening. You’re just not making any sense.”

“Rubio—”

He made a quelling sound and threaded a hand through the back of her hair, massaging her nape. His touch hypnotized her, quieting the alarm bells in her brain. She wanted to stop him, but more than that, she wanted to feel the full force of his sexuality. Just one night. What could it hurt? This was too thrilling not to experience, just this once...

She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the pull between them, the attraction she’d stuffed down since the second they’d first touched. He kissed her, rough and hard, as she clung to him. His hands strayed to her breasts, squeezing them through her faded tee shirt. The grasping pressure felt so good that she moaned against his lips. There was some wildness in him that made her forget caution and discipline, and the control she’d honed all her life.

“Yes, please,” she whispered. “More.”

He gazed at her, his lips parted. In one fluid movement he had her tee up and off, so she stood before him bared to the waist. When she moved to cover herself, he took her hands and trapped them behind her back, and bent to kiss her. His teeth closed on her lower lip in a teasing bite and she sucked in a breath. That moment, when he trapped her and bit her, that was the moment she knew she was lost. She struggled against the cage of him, but only to make him hold her harder. She wanted these intense games he played. She wanted him just as he was, commanding and carnal. She wanted him to hurt her and make her
feel
.

He gave a growling sound, the perfect accompaniment to her thoughts. His roving hand found her nipple and pinched until she shied away in agony and desire. She buried her head against the side of his neck, pleading for God knew what.
Please, please, please...
He left her nipple and grabbed her ass, pulling her forward against him. She could feel his cock through his jeans, a thick, threatening outline to go with his brutal grip on her wrists.

“I want to fuck you, Petra,” he said, pulling away from her. His dark eyes glittered with mayhem. “That’s what you need, yes? To get fucked like a naughty little slut?” He emphasized both
fucked
and
slut
with violent urgency.

Before she could answer that yes, she definitely needed to be fucked like a naughty little slut, he lifted her in his arms. “Your bedroom?”

“Second door down the hall,” she answered, clinging to his neck.

Is okay to be scared. Is okay to be scared.

She repeated it to herself as he carried her down the hall and kicked the door shut behind them. She repeated it as he stripped off her sleep pants and panties and pushed her back on the bed, draped her legs over his shoulders, and started licking her pussy like a starving man.
Oh my God.

She had plenty of sexual experience, but this felt like the first time. The sensation, the surge of erotic excitement felt totally new. She shuddered as his tongue flicked over her clit, his warm breath teasing her senses. No man had ever gone down on her like this, forcing her thighs wide open and exploring every orifice, doing as he pleased to her, so that she felt like the submissive one. His fingers tightened on her thighs and she felt so controlled that, for a moment, she felt a frisson of fear.

Is okay to be scared.

“Oh, please,” she cried, reaching to grasp at his hair.
Please don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop.
He licked her everywhere, from her slick labia to her clit to the sensitive bud of her ass. His mouth was magic. His tongue found her most responsive spots and relished them until she thought the pleasure would break her mind. Flick, lick, nibble. Oh, what the hell was he doing? She was torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

He took the choice from her, grabbing her hands and holding them out of the way, so all she could do was cry out and buck under his ministrations. Her pelvis ached with the pressure of quick, fierce arousal.

“Is okay,” he said, tightening his grip on her fingers. “Come for me. I want it.”

She couldn’t move her hands or her legs, or anything without him allowing it. She squeezed her fingers into fists as his tongue flicked and laved the most sensitive spot of her core. “Oh, please, please, don’t...don’t stop...”

He said something she couldn’t decipher, something low and lyrical in Portuguese, and he didn’t stop. As for her, she could no longer talk, only make helpless animal sounds. When her orgasm finally broke wide, her walls crashed together in an almost painful release. She cried out, a loud, long sob, which was not at all like her. She was always quiet in bed, self-conscious and controlled, but he had stripped that control from her. He brushed kisses across her clit as the aftershocks rolled through her body, and then he kissed her lightly on the inside of each of her thighs.

“I wanted you,” he said against her skin. “I wanted that for a long time now.”

She whimpered in agreement. She wanted it too, again and again. He released her hands and she reached for his face, to touch him, to come to terms with the idea of rude, infuriating Rubio bringing her such feverish elation. He pressed a kiss against her palm and backed away from her.

“Don’t move,” he said. “Rest a minute. More is coming.”

More? Of course there was more. There was still his masterpiece of a body to enjoy. She watched as he stripped beside her bed, quickly, without inhibition. Shoes, shirt, jeans, boxer briefs, socks. He was garishly hard. He dug in his jeans pocket and straightened with a couple of condoms in his hand.

“See,” he said, holding them up. “Safe sex. No problems.”

He keeps condoms in his pocket
, she thought. He was a manwhore. She needed to remember that. A few hours ago, he’d been running around naked in a sex dungeon. This would have to be just for play, for enjoyment. It would be all too easy to fall head over heels and sacrifice everything, her entire career, for this hedonistic playboy.
No.

He came to the bed and crawled over her, his arms trapping her on either side. His heavy cock fell against her belly, a jutting threat that made her feel scared again, but it was a delicious fear. He cradled her and rubbed his cheek against hers. “Is okay,” he said. “Will feel good, to have me inside you. Maybe I hurt you a little, but you’ll like it.” He delivered a sharp slap to her outer thigh, to the same place he’d cropped her earlier.

She struggled in reaction, because it turned her on when he fought back and pinned her down. He slid a hand into her hair and closed his fist. He pulled until he bared her throat and then he licked her from below her jaw to the base of her throat. There was a teasing slide of teeth—he could have bitten her. She kind of wanted him to, but instead he flipped her over and arranged her on her hands and knees. He knelt behind her, his arms on either side of her, his muscled torso along her back like a wall. She’d been body to body with him many times at the theater, in rehearsals and ballets, but never like this.

He leaned back and smacked her on the bottom, right below the curve of her ass cheek. She whimpered and tried to wiggle away but he stilled her with his two giant hands. He spread her cheeks and she shuddered. He could see all of her, every secret part of her as he held her open. It was awful but she felt turned on too, used and manipulated. When he moved his palm down and groped her, she lost her nerve and collapsed on her stomach, trying to turn away from him.

“No, up.” Another sharp slap to her ass, then another. “On your hands and knees.”

She scraped together her courage and obeyed him because she didn’t want this to end. Her knees were shaking and her arms felt like twigs but she held the pose as he spanked her again, and again. Her ass throbbed, the shape of his hand prints like a blazing brand. She didn’t know what bizarre mental-physiological impulses were at work, but the more he spanked her, the more she wanted him to fuck her. Despite the fact that she’d come just a few moments earlier, she wanted him deep inside, riding her hard, overpowering her. She heard the sound of the condom wrapper.

Thank you, God.
She looked back over her shoulder as he rolled the condom over his thick length.

“I’d make you suck me first,” he said, eyeing her mouth with a lurid twist to his lips, “if I didn’t want your pussy so bad.”

She thought wildly of her dreams, of Rubio’s cock growing bigger and bigger in her mouth. As much as she’d fantasized about it, she was glad it wasn’t on the menu tonight because she wanted him inside her, not choking off her breath. Once he’d double checked the condom, he grabbed her hips and eased her back onto his rigid cock. He was so big, it felt kind of dangerous. Not dangerous like she wasn’t wet enough, or that she didn’t want him—it was that he didn’t give her any sense of control. She cowered downward, resting her shoulders on the bed.

“No,” he said with another slap to the thigh. “Hands and knees.”

With some reluctance she resumed the position—hands and knees, naked and pale, scared and vulnerable.
Is okay to be scared.
She was thinking too much now, about how she looked, about whether she satisfied him, about whether she measured up to all his sexy BDSM girls.

His hands squeezed on her shoulders, massaging them as he pulled out and slid in again. “Good girl,” he said. “This is the very best part. Don’t leave me now.”

She tried to obey, tried to make herself relax. His hands moved from her shoulders to her hips and then he gripped her waist. With a long, low grunt he snapped his hips against hers. He held her like she was his toy, his plaything, and she liked that feeling, shuddering on all fours with a smarting ass as he plunged deep inside. She bit her lip and squirmed, squeezing on the length of his cock.

“Oh God,” he moaned. “You little—”

He pulled away and flipped her over, entering her missionary style. She closed her eyes, confused by all the conflicting messages in her brain. She wanted to satisfy him, but God, she shouldn’t even be sleeping with him. She wanted him to hurt her, but she wanted him to caress her too. Most of all, she wanted to please him more than anyone had ever pleased him before.

“Open,” he said.

She parted her legs wider, to accommodate his thrusting hips.

“No, your eyes,” he said. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

She did, and he fixed her with his dark gaze. “Stop thinking,” he said. “Just feel. Do I feel good inside you?”

She squeezed her inner muscles on him again. “Yes, you feel...amazing.”

He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Stop doing that with your pussy. I’ll tear you up if you don’t stop.” He slid inside her, all the way, and stopped with a shiver of his own.

“Tear me up? Literally?” she whispered. She stared into his eyes and squeezed on his cock again. She had pretty good pelvic floor muscles, being a dancer. He grunted, a wild, surrendered sound. His pelvis ground against hers, right against her aching clit. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“Open them,” he insisted.

She stared up at him, angling her hips to feel the pleasure again. His gaze was burning. Intent. “I don’t want you to tear me up,” she said meekly, feeding on some dialogue between them, some unspoken dynamic they both understood.

“Stop.”

“Because you’re so much bigger and stronger than me. You could really hurt me.” The hand on her ass pinched until she yelped. “If you hurt me I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

He buried his face in her neck, licking beneath her ear. “You’re teasing me, huh?” He held her ass hard, forcing her to take the full length of his increasingly vigorous thrusts. She struggled with him, wound up tight like a spring. Every time he pressed into her, her thoughts receded a little more. His eyes caught hers and held them and that, more than anything, nudged her toward climax. He was pure male force, pure power, and he wasn’t hurting her in any way she didn’t like.

“Please,” she said. “Please, please, please...”

He groped her breasts, pinched her nipples and then grabbed her waist the same way he did when they were about to do a lift, but he wasn’t lifting her, he was pressing her down, impaling her on his cock, touching some unexplored territory deep inside her. She cried out, falling over the edge into orgasm, collapsing and expanding from within. She made fists while tears spilled from her eyes, not tears of emotion or sadness, but tears from a depth of pleasure she’d never felt before. Oh, she’d had orgasms, plenty of them. This wasn’t an orgasm. This was a whole-body death and resurrection. He pounded into her and then he came too with a jerk and a harsh groan.

For long moments they lay still together, gasping for breath. He slid his knees under her thighs and held her trapped beneath his chest, and she didn’t feel the slightest impulse to escape his weight. She felt so close to him, connected to him in a way that went beyond partnering and professional matters, even beyond a typical sexual experience. This was a universe away from what she and her previous sex partners had done. It simply wasn’t the same thing. Rubio’s chest felt perfect against her chest, and his legs felt perfect against her legs. His cock felt perfect inside her as she flexed her sore, hot cheeks. Everything was perfect, balanced and aligned. It wasn’t exaggeration, it was the truth.