Spy Games: Lethal Limits (12 page)

He kissed the top of her head again, his thumb brushing her arm. “Why don’t you get under the covers?”

“Fine.” She sighed and lifted the sheet, scooting under. She stiffened when she made contact with his thigh, her hand brushing his hip, as if testing to see what he wore. “Not fair. You’re naked, and I have to wear a nightgown?”

“I can take care of that in a bit.” But he didn’t want to. He wanted her in that nightgown forever.

“Not fair. I can handle naked better than frilly girly dresses.”

“My house, my rules.” The nightgown was anything but frilly, girly. It was feminine, soft, innocent. And he loved her in it. “You were girly in Paris.”

“That silver dress is a tough girl dress. Not a frilly girl dress. I can carry under that dress.”

“Where?” Unless she’d tucked a gun up in her pussy, he couldn’t guess where she would have put it.

“My inner thigh.”

“Tough girls are hot.” He kissed her softly. “So are girly girls.”

“Fine.”

He laughed. He loved that she was spunky, belligerent at times. Usually wild yet submissive in his bed. He didn’t know how wild they’d get tonight, but he hoped to at least give her an orgasm, to get started on his promise to her. Aim high, right out of the gate. She was doing her part. He hadn’t thought of Kate much since they hit Virginia.

But just thinking Kate’s name made him choke a bit. What the hell was he thinking? But he closed his eyes and went to a calmer place, one that reminded him of his duty, his mission. This would make Kate most happy, and if he truly loved her, he’d do this.

He swallowed as he looked down at Tia. She ran a hand absentmindedly over his chest, her fingers a gentle tickle that further stiffened his cock, her hair a pillow of floral-scented blackness under her cheek. So beautiful, sexy, so available. And his for the weekend. She was definitely wifely material. He slid a hand under her chin and lifted her lips to his.

The kiss was bittersweet, almost painful at first, until she wiggled against him, and his dick throbbed, reminding him that he had needs and she was more than able to see to them. He deepened the kiss, not wasting time like he had outside under the tree.

When Jake gently pushed Tia off his chest and pressed her to the bed, she went, willingly, desperate to have him inside her. He loomed over her as he broke the kiss and nudged her thighs apart and arranged himself there. She sucked in a breath as his hard cock came in contact with her pussy, the gauzy material of her thong soaked through. She needed him. Now. She ached. She was more than ready. Why waste time? But he stilled and, instead, propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at her.

“I have to slow down, or I won’t last,” he said on a ragged breath. “I never expected to get this excited, this quick.”

She couldn’t help smiling with amusement. The Jake she knew stayed hard for hours and never came until the very end. Now he was like an eager teen, ready to pop after a hot kiss. That he’d be so ready, hot for her, gave her ego a huge boost. Maybe he was what she needed, after all. “You should have done more than kiss me under the tree.”

“Be quiet, or you’ll go to bed without any sex.”

He kissed her again, his mouth gentler, his tongue still insistent. Wanting more, she wrapped her legs around his hips and arched upward, bumping his hard cock against her clit. She fully expected him to stop her, but he responded in kind, the ridge of his shaft rubbing the length of her slit, igniting lust deep inside her stomach. He stilled and put a hand on her hips, stopping her as he kissed her again, hard, slow, his tongue thrusting in a rhythm his hips had just done.

Then he broke the kiss and smoothed her cheek with a hand, his breathing so ragged, harsh. His other hand cupped her breast, the thumb tracing a lazy pattern around her nipple. “It’s good to be so excited for my wife, isn’t it?”

“You’re a good husband,” she whispered, trembling slightly at the word
wife
on his lips.

Not work wife—regular wife. She was already excited as hell, but if lust had walls, he had just tossed her over it with that word. His eyes were dark, like a turbulent ocean, and she could lose herself in the passion in them. Something inside her changed with the ignition of that higher form of lust. She didn’t merely want him to fuck her. She wanted him to make love to her.

She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him again, and this time she led, showing him what she needed, where she needed his tongue. She slid her hands between them and unbuttoned the four buttons, her fingers shaking slightly. Then she took his hand and urged him inside the gaping neckline.

He’d touched her breasts so many times, but this time felt new, different. His hand burned a path across her flesh, searing her skin, his thumb insistent on her nipple, rubbing, rolling, joining with his finger to pull, then twist, just the way she liked it. The pleasure mingled with sweet pain, and she cried out against his lips, wanting more.

His other hand slid the nightgown up around her waist. He rolled off her, his shaft burning against her thigh, his hand on her stomach. She arched her hips as his hand slid down, down, cupping her mound, then splaying across her pussy. He sucked in a breath, his fingers exploring how wet she was, inching along the seam of her thong, pausing where it narrowed to nestle between her ass cheeks.

“A thong under this nightgown is so sexy,” he breathed against her neck when he broke their kiss. “I love your ass, so tight. Skin so smooth. You’re so wet. I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet for me.”

His fingers ran back up along the side by her thigh and then dipped underneath the material, sinking into her slit. He didn’t waste time. He shoved one, then two fingers inside her slick pussy, pumping gently. And then he moved, swiftly, and was between her legs in a flash, his mouth fastening on her clit through the material of her thong.

The contact was so unexpected, yet so exciting, and her pussy convulsed in a hard spasm. She bucked against him, and he sucked harder. Then he lifted his face and tugged at the strings, drawing the material down. She helped him and, in a moment, his face was back where it belonged, between her thighs, his tongue exploring her folds, his fingers thrusting inside her pussy.

He lubricated his thumb and twisted his hand inside her. His thumb dipped into her ass, knuckle deep inside her tight rosette. She moaned and threaded her fingers into his hair, urging him to suck her harder, lap faster. Suddenly all she wanted was to come in his mouth, against his face. This was an orgasm she knew she could have, the non-proper type.

He lifted his face and withdrew his fingers. “Not so fast, wife.”

Why the hell not?
She wriggled again, agitated. “I want to come, Jake. Please?”

“Ask your
Husband
if you can come.” He accentuated husband the way he would Sir or Master, expecting her to show respect the same way.

She looked into his eyes. They were lusty, demanding. He liked being Husband as much as he liked being Master. “Please make me come, Husband. Will you let me?”

“In a bit,” he said.

She growled her frustration.

He chuckled. “You want to come with me inside, remember?” He returned to fingering her clit, two fingers sliding inside her core, tickling her G-spot. “What would you like to do, besides come? We have all night. I’m not going to get you off quickly and ruin our wedding night.”

“May I—” Asking to suck his cock seemed too crude for the moment, not right for wedding sex. She blinked, not liking this new role one bit. “I would like to kiss you.”

He lowered his lips to hers, and she shoved him away. “No, not there.”

“Where, then?”

“Areas below?”

Jake laughed. “I love that my wife is having a hard time saying cock.”

She glared, despite what his fingers were doing deep inside her pussy. “Maybe that’s not what I want to kiss.”

He removed his fingers, rolled on the bed, and went back to his original position—hands behind his head against the headboard. Only now, he was completely naked, his erection bobbing from the movement he’d just made. “Then find your areas below that you’d like to kiss, that aren’t my cock, wife.”

“Is that a command? I don’t recall there being
obey
in our wedding vows.” And then she blinked, her breathing ratcheting up a notch. A statement like that would earn her a paddling in most scenes they played.

But Jake didn’t seem to mind one bit. “Oh, you promised to obey, but you also promised to be healthy, wealthy, and wise. None of that sickness stuff.”

“I don’t think I’d let you write our wedding vows.” She held the hem of her nightgown and straddled him, his cock nudging her ass as she sat back on his groin.

“Kiss what you want to kiss, wife,” he commanded softly. “Start obeying.”

She kissed his flat nipple first, sucking it lightly, then ran her tongue over to the other. The devil inside her had to see how far she could push him. “Can I use nipple clamps on you?”

“Not vanilla, wife.” He slapped her ass, and she sucked in a breath of pure ecstasy. She felt that all the way to the deepest part of her pussy. Good, he wasn’t going total pansy on her.

“I don’t think spanking is, either.”

He smacked her again, harder this time, and she bit her lip to keep in the moan of pleasure. “Start kissing.”

His skin tasted so good under her lips as she nibbled her way down his chest. She slid her pussy up and over his cock, then down the length on the outside, riding his thick ridge in one damp stroke. His fingers found her hair, and he sucked in a breath, holding the locks at her scalp with gentle insistence.

Finally, his cock was at face level. So thick. Eager. She didn’t usually give head. She’d been forced in the past by a bad Dom, and it was one of her standard hard limits. That and bodily functions were about all she wouldn’t do. In Paris, she had sucked Jake for the first time and had enjoyed the way he tasted and how it had pleased him to no end. She drew in a breath and kissed the head of his cock, damp with a drop of cum.

“Sit on my face,” he breathed as she took the thick head into her mouth. She sucked him for a moment, enjoying the silky smoothness of his skin against her lips, her mouth.

“Obey,” he growled.

She trembled as she climbed off him and straddled him the other way, kneeling over his face, her pussy right above his tongue. She had tempted him that way in Paris, but that was because she had to suck him to get him ready. It was easier to suck him in this position. But this was different, so sinful, her breaths coming in hot pants as she lowered her hips to just above his face, so close, yet far enough that his tongue would only taste air.

She looked down the length of her body but all she saw was the damned white nightgown. She went to tug it over her head, and he grabbed the hem.

“Don’t. It’s so sexy.” He held the silky material in one fist, and finally, she could see his face between her thighs, his eyes devouring her, as if she were some confection just out of his reach. “God, yes. I’ve dreamed of your pussy over my face like this since Paris. All I wanted was to lap at you. You were so wet. As wet as you are now. And you smelled like the finest perfume.”

Jake tugged her hips, and she sank downward, onto his tongue. And jumped at the shock of his mouth on her clit, immediately sucking. His hands ran along her sides from her hips to just under her ribcage, the material slippery and soft. He ran his tongue from her clit along one pussy lip to almost her ass, then back up to stab into her core, thrusting like he had with his tongue in her mouth.

“Yes,” she whispered and opened her eyes with a start. She never spoke during sex, unless it was to answer a question. Even their discussion a moment earlier was out of character for her. He must have liked it because his lips found her clit again and sucked, then nipped, and she bit back another cry.

Then the contact stopped, and she swallowed a cry of dismay. “You can be as vocal as you want, wife. In fact, I command it. I also command you to get to work. Maybe you’ll learn to say cock while you’re down there.”

She may not want to say cock during his stupid role-play, but she sure as hell knew what to do with one. He nipped her clit again and, this time, when she wanted to moan, she drew him in to the root and let the noise vibrate around his shaft. He tensed under her, and she sucked her way back to the tip.

Yes, he liked that. A lot. She could tell by the way he stiffened under her, his hands clutching her hips. Her fingers cupped his testicles, and, this time, when he nipped, she sucked him deep, moaned around him, and pressed her thumb beneath the base of his shaft in that sensitive spot.

He quivered and inhaled, his body going washboard hard under her for a split second. His fingers slid into her pussy, his thumb in her ass. Her elusive orgasm reared up, threatening to tumble her off the cliff, and she trembled at the edge of blissful pleasure laced with just a touch of… She trembled. Why would vanilla sex make her heart ache just a little?

He removed his hands and mouth, but her orgasm had stopped, anyway. “You can’t come yet,” he warned from between her thighs through the stupid nightgown. “Don’t come until I command it.”

No man had ever made her feel this horny. Not coming was never an issue before today. But she was a vindictive wife. If she couldn’t come, then she’d make him lose control. Her hands shaking, she drew him in, sucking just the tip, her tongue exploring the ridge along the head. She added a hand to the base of his shaft and stroked in time to each lap. His hands clenched her hips, and he shook a little.

Oh, he was close. This time, she sucked him deep, down to her fist, and pressed that spot again. He bucked into her mouth, his cock sliding in, and she let her hand slide away to take him to the back of her throat.

“You have to stop,” he managed on a strangled breath. “I haven’t had sex in over a month. I can’t take it.”

Over a month? So unlike Jake. Maybe making him suffer was better than making him come. She sucked the length as she pulled away, letting him pop out at the end. She looked down between her thighs again—he still held the nightgown so he could watch her. Oh, he was suffering. The look he gave her was one of delicious torture.