Sarah's Seduction (21 page)

“Oh God. Brock.” She couldn’t stop the arch of her body as the thick device began to fill her, stretch her.

Tingling fire shot up her spine, then back down. She could feel her cunt pulsing, leaking her own natural lubrication, preparing itself for what was to come as he pushed the plug deep into her. She writhed beneath him, her hips arching, then a high, startled cry escaped her lips as she felt the flared base lodge past the tight ring of muscles there. It stretched her impossibly, leaving her gasping, nearly pleading for him to take her now. Right now. But she couldn’t speak. The breath strangled in her throat as pleasure washed over in wave after wave.

“Sarah.” Brock’s voice sounded as strained, as violently aroused as she was now.

“Baby. Oh baby. Yes, let it feel good for you.”

His head lowered and he was lapping at her cunt like a starving man. His tongue plunged inside her, his hands holding her legs in place as he drank from the well of hot cream her body pulsed into his mouth. Yet, he still refused to let her climax. He brought her time and time again to the edge, only to pull back before she could go over. Then he lifted the thick, gel filled dildo from the couch. Sarah cried out as he looked at her. His expression a tight grimace of arousal, his eyes glittering with a raging lust that made her own rise.

“I want you to know the fullness of it,” he whispered as he lodged the bulging head of the dildo at her slick entrance. “I want to watch your face, your eyes and know you like it. I want to see your pleasure, Sarah.”

Her eyes widened as she felt the sexual toy slow enter her, part the flesh of her vagina, burning, stretching her. Her head shook in short, jerky movements, her hands fisted in the cushions of the couch. She couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t. It was too much. Too much and yet not enough. Each slow, thrusting inch being buried inside her made her more aware of the plug lodged in her anus, it made the fiery pleasure sear her body with lightning streaks of arousal so hot she expected blisters.

“Ah, Sarah, how pretty you are,” he whispered when she finally cried out, her body bucking, driving the dildo those last inches, lodging it firmly against her cervix. “You’re stretched so tight around it, just as you’ll be stretched around me.”

He pulled the dildo back, then pushed it home again. He did so slowly, his strokes firm but not too fast. Sarah arched desperately to him, an agonized haze of lust burning her alive. Her cunt was stretched as it never had been, and still the dildo was only just a bit smaller than the width of Brock’s cock. And how she needed him now. She needed to climax, but the unfulfilling strokes used kept her only poised on the brutal edge of her release.

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Through it all, Sarah watched Brock. Their eyes were locked, their needs, their arousal feeding from each other until Sarah could stand no more. She bucked against the slow thrust, lifting to him, her hand gripping his wrist, halting the movement inside her body.

“Fuck me, damn you. Stop teasing me like this.” She had to grit her teeth when that small, wry smile tilted his lips.

Then he was removing the dildo, tossing it aside, his eyes darkening, purpose hardening his expression.

“Now, come here.” He lowered her legs, then took her hands and pulled her to her knees.

Laying back on the couch, he helped her over him, positioning her over the straining, pulsing head of his cock. Sarah felt the moisture between her thighs increase, knowing he would impale her on the thick length.

“Slowly, Sarah.” He gripped her hips, lowering her. Sarah’s head fell back as the head nudged her inner lips, then spread them wide. She was gasping with desire and an edge of fear. The plug filled her, stretched her, and she knew it would make her vagina smaller, tighter. Would it hurt? He was a bit larger than the dildo, harder, hotter. So hot and thick.

He slipped in only marginally. Sarah shuddered. His cock felt like a brand. A thick, hard, incredibly arousing piece of hot steel sliding past her gripping muscles. She tried to impale herself more fully on it, but his hands gripping her hips held her back.

“Slow, baby,” he growled, his voice thick, so rough it rumbled from his chest. “Slow and easy.”

Inch by excruciating inch he pushed into her. Sarah groaned, her lashes flickering as she fought to keep them open. She was dying; stretching on a wrack of desire so intense, she knew she wouldn’t survive it.

“Sarah.” Brock bucked against her, lodging another inch of the incredibly thick flesh inside her. “God Sarah, you’re so tight. So damned tight.”

He slid the last inches into her, seating himself fully inside her as his head tossed on the cushions and Sarah cried out in desperation. She was stretched fully, burningly aware of every inch of hard flesh buried inside her. The tight ache was making her mad for his cock. She wanted him driving inside her, throwing her into madness as she screamed out her release. Instead, he held her still, one hand at her hips as the other pulled her upper body to his, holding her head against his chest. The position pushed her buttocks higher and placed her clit in direct contact with his pelvic bone.

“Stay still,” he ordered, his voice harsh as she tried to thrust against him. She couldn’t. She was mindless with need. She writhed upon the shaft impaling her, her hips twisting desperately.

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“Stop.” He smacked her ass. Not an easy, light tap. It stung. It sent her into a mindless realm of pleasure that would kill her. Her hips bucked again. He smacked her again. Sarah cried out in humiliation and a desire so deep and desperate she could no longer control it. His hand landed again on the other cheek. Sharp, loud. Sarah bucked, moaning, nearly crying now the pleasure was so intense. Her buttocks were on fire and she knew she wanted more. The humiliation of it was deep, intense. It was a part of herself that she didn’t know if she could handle.

“Sarah. God, Sarah.” His hands gripped her hips hard, holding her tight as his body tightened. “Not yet, baby. Not yet.”

“Please, Brock,” she cried out against his chest as he held her close, her hands gripping his shoulders, need rocking through her as she pleaded with him.

“Stay still, Sarah.” His voice was hard now, determined. “I want you to feel, baby. Just feel it. See how good it is? How hot it is to be filled like this?”

“The feeling is killing me, Brock,” she cried out into his chest. “I can’t stand it. Please let me cum.”

“Not yet,” he groaned. “In a minute. I promise. This is what it will be like, Sarah. What it’s like for Marly. Hot and full, stretched and held. It’s like that, Sarah. Do you understand?”

She understood. She understood from the first what this lesson meant.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, Brock. Now please. Please fuck me.”

She twisted against him now, grinding his cock inside her as a shattered cry tore from her throat.

He gripped her hips harder. Slowly he drew back, then pushed into her once again. Easy, lingering strokes that had her nearly screaming out her need for more. Her hips twisted against him, her body bucking as her back arched.

“Damn you,” she cried out hoarsely. “Fuck me. Do it now.”

“Will you accept it, Sarah?” His voice was tortured. “Tell me now. Now, Sarah. Will you accept their touch?”

“Yes,” she screamed, delirious with arousal. “Anything, Brock. Anything, damn you. Just fuck me.”

The growl that tore from his throat sounded feral. He gripped her hips then, hard and tight and began to thrust. Sarah lost her breath. Deep, hard thrusts. They speared through her tight cunt, surging through the gripping muscles as he seemed to spear into her very soul.

She lost her sanity. Her back arched as a scream tore from her throat and she shattered. The explosive climax tore through her body with the force of a tidal wave, washing over her, drowning all humiliation, shame or regret. On and on, it pulsed through her body, tightening her cunt around the cock plunging harshly inside it. Until she felt the thick erection jerk, felt Brock shudder then flood her inner recess with spurt after spurt of his thick, hot cum.

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Sarah collapsed on his chest, breathing harshly, her body still trembling, her vagina gripping him, pulsing around him. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. Sweat dripped from their bodies, and the scent of sex and satisfaction wrapped around them with heated remnants of desire.

“God. Damn.” Brock’s voice was hoarse, astounded as he continued to fight for breath.

He eased Sarah gently to his side, tucking her against the back of the couch as she drifted in a haze of completion, awake, but not really aware.

“Leave me alone,” she mumbled, feeling the gentle hands as he brought her to her back and spread her thighs.

She whimpered as she felt him pull the plug free of her body. An echo of her earlier climax pulsed through her body. What had happened to her? She had been mindless, begging, in the grip of something she couldn’t understand and didn’t want to look at too closely right now.

“It’s okay, baby.” He soothed her gently as he picked her up in his arms and headed for the stairs. “Come on, I’ll carry you to bed.”

“You aren’t staying tonight. I need to sleep.” She laid her head on his chest, sleepiness sheltering as warm and light as Brock’s arms.

“You’ll sleep,” he promised, and Sarah knew she heard a smile in his words. Evidently, he intended to ignore her, just as he had last night.

“Bossy,” she muttered as he laid her in the bed then began to clean her thighs gently. The soft warmth of the cloth he used lulled her tired body into settling closer to sleep.

“I have to be,” he told her as he kissed her forehead gently. “If I weren’t, you wouldn’t be so tired right now, Sarah.

Sarah sighed. Was he right? He probably thought he was. She blocked the thought from her head, slipping into the sheltering arms of sleep as she felt the blanket being tucked about her shoulders. He was tender. He kissed her forehead, smoothed his hands over her hair, then darkness enfolded her.

* * * * *

Brock sat at the edge of the bed and watched Sarah sleep. She looked innocent and sexy at the same time. It tightened his chest, made his throat ache with emotion to see her like this, curled close to him, exhausted from satisfaction. The silken, honey-gold strands of hair were tangled around her face and shoulders, the long, light lashes lay like soft shadows on her cheeks. One hand was tucked beneath her cheek, the other lay on his thigh.

He lifted the hand on his thigh, his fingers rubbing over hers lightly. They were soft, long and graceful with short, pink nails. Her palms were so soft, like satin. He Lora Leigh

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brought her hand to his face, holding the warmth of her palm to his cheek as he closed his eyes.

He had waited for her. For six long years he had waited, knowing that eventually, sooner or later, married or divorced, he would have her. The taste she had given him when she was eighteen had driven him insane at times, making him almost desperate to rip her away from the cheating bastard she was married to. The nights he spent at the bar, listening to the braggart running his mouth about his frigid little wife had been hell. But he had endured. He knew better and he knew that to make his move, to show his hand to Mark Tate before the time was right would be a mistake. He knew Tate too well. Much better than Sarah did, and he knew her ex-husband wasn’t about to let her go so easily. How Sarah had managed to get him to sign those divorce papers he had no idea. How she had escaped the marriage with no scars, he was even more uncertain. One thing he did know for sure, after this morning, he was going to have to keep a careful eye on the bastard. >From what Sam had told him, he had come in just in time to keep Sarah from being hurt. First the unknown assailant, and now Tate. The danger was growing and he knew she couldn’t allow her to stay here much longer.

Brock sighed wearily. He wished he had her at the ranch where he knew she would be safe at any given time of the day. He had a bad feeling about this situation. A feeling Sarah had yet to escape from the bastard.

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CHAPTER TWENTY

Sarah was furious, embarrassed and intimately bald. The latter directly related to the former and she hated it. She couldn’t wear panties; Denise had strictly forbidden it for up to six hours after the waxing. Her flesh smarted, despite the cream the other woman had rubbed onto the flesh of her cunt, and further back to her anus. She had waxed it all. Every tiny hair was gone, and it had hurt. Not that Brock seemed to care. When she left the house, he had jumped from the jeep, anticipation filling his expression. She wanted to shove him into the house and let the demonic, wax-happy bitch have a go at him. She changed her mind just as quickly. Denise Lamont appeared like a woman who would be more than happy to ply her trade on Brock’s sensitive flesh.

She sat now in Brock’s jeep, silent, her eyes narrowed as they drove back to the house. Brock appeared entirely too smug, the lustful glances he kept casting her way heating her blood despite her determination to not allow it. She didn’t want to get wetter. It might sting. It was stinging enough.

“You okay?” he asked her softly, glancing at her once again.

“Fine.” She stared mutinously out the windshield. She wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, Sarah.” He frowned, correctly interpreting her anger.

“Hell, Marly has it done all the time.”

She cast him a controlled glance. She did not want to hear about Marly right now.

“How would you know?” she asked him coolly. “Last I saw, you had all your hair.”

He laughed. Damn him, she didn’t need his laughter.

“Let me see it.” His words had her head swinging around, her eyes widening incredulously at the question.

“Let you what?” she gasped.

“Raise your dress and let me see it.” His eyes were heavy lidded as he glanced over once again. “Come on, Sarah, no one will see.”