“Lovely Layla,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke his thumb over her cheek.
“We should not be doing this. I know that. And I can’t . . . I can’t promise you I’m clearheaded enough to make a decision right now. But I want this. Now. Right now. Don’t make me wait.”
“Jesus, woman. As if I could after you telling me this.”
Her nails dug into his chest then, through the fabric of his T-shirt. And he swore as he tore it over his head, then advanced on her, heat rushing through his system, coiled like a serpent waiting to escape in his belly, his balls. He grabbed her, kissed her mouth hard, released her to unzip her dress, pushing her farther back into the living room the whole time. He pulled the straps down over her shoulders, then her red bra straps as he spun her around, then tore the pretty scarf from her hair and slipped it over her eyes.
“Duff, no.”
She pulled the makeshift blindfold from her face and spun around, question in her eyes. Fear, maybe. But it only drove the need higher.
“This won’t be gentle. It won’t be easy. This is the time, Layla, and I’m sure you know what I mean. Give yourself over. Or tell me to go.”
Her lips parted, formed a small O of surprise. But then her features slowly settled even as a blush rose in her cheeks, and she gave a small nod. He couldn’t help his grin, and he was certain it looked as wicked as he felt.
Taking the scarf from her, he tied it over her eyes, her silky curls falling all over his hands. He wanted to feel her hair on his skin. On his hard cock. But first things first.
Yanking her dress down, he paused a moment to admire the pretty red lace lingerie underneath it, and the small lotus inked in what looked like the delicate lines of a henna tattoo over her right hip before reaching behind her and unsnapping her bra. And Lord, her breasts were beautiful—full and round with dark, dusky nipples, which were already hard. Desire was a hot surge in his body. Electric. Sharp. He had to draw in a breath.
Get ahold of yourself.
Then he was on her, taking those gorgeous nipples into his mouth one at a time, licking and sucking, biting and tasting, while she gasped and moaned. When she reached for him he pulled her arms behind her back, holding both slender wrists there with one hand, his grip tight enough to hurt. Her body immediately stilled.
“Ah, yeah, now that’s where I want you, princess. Yielding under my touch. I will make you pliant, you know. Pliant. Bending to my will. Bowing under my hands. My mouth. Under the pain. And fuck, but I’ll enjoy it.”
“I—”
“Shh. No talking now. You know what to do. What I will require of you. Just do it, Layla.”
Reaching down, he squeezed one full breast hard, and she gasped in pain, her brows drawing together under the silk blindfold. He filled both his hands, her flesh firm, her nipples two hard points against his palms. He squeezed again, felt her wriggle, and took her down to the floor, putting her on her back. Straddling her, he used his knees to press her legs together, holding her still while he kneaded her tits, pressing and pulling the sweet flesh of her rigid nipples, working her hard. She was panting, but she didn’t make a sound, even though he understood he was hurting her. Meant to.
Good. She could really take it. And he needed to hurt her. Needed to let the beast inside him out.
He bent and took one nipple into his mouth again, rubbing the hardened tip with his teeth, then bit down.
“Oh!”
He chuckled. “Now, that I don’t mind you saying, lovely.” Grinning, he bent and did it again, sucking that reddening tip in between the edges of his teeth. And smiled to himself when he felt her hips trying to undulate. “Do you need something, princess? I think you do.”
Shifting, he shoved her thighs apart, pushed them wider as he settled his knees in between them, pausing to take in the sight of the sheer black lace against her lush pussy lips. His cock gave a hard jump.
No.
He tucked his fingers under the edge of the lace and tore them off.
“Ah!”
“I’ll replace them, not to worry,” he told her. Then his voice stuttered in his throat as he looked at her lovely shaved pussy.
So damn beautiful. So damn hot. The lips were plump, a little duskier than her gorgeous caramel skin. And between them the flesh was pink and wet, so wet he had to bend down and taste her.
He stroked her with his tongue, drinking her in, then pushed his tongue inside her as her body shook. And nearly came.
He sat up, wiped his mouth with the back of one hand while pressing down on his rigid, pulsing dick with the other.
Jesus. Fucking. God.
He shook his head, trying to clear it.
“You test me, woman,” he told her. “We’re both going to pay.”
Grabbing one of her thighs, he pressed down, putting some of his weight behind it, his nails digging into her skin. She struggled against him, but he only held on tighter, dug his nails deeper. When she couldn’t seem to stop squirming he used his other hand to pry her pussy lips apart, and shoved two fingers into her all at once. And had to bite the inside of his mouth to hold his orgasm back.
Figure this shit out, man.
He started a hard, punishing stroke, pressing deeper and deeper inside her, watching her clit swell. Silently cussing at himself.
Don’t you fucking do it. Hold it together. For her. Do what you’re supposed to.
But soon she was grinding her hips against his hand and he couldn’t help himself—he bent and put his mouth on her once more, sucking on that hard little clit, using his tongue, then his teeth. And she was groaning and panting and writhing and his poor, tortured cock was going to explode. He bit her clit hard, if only to keep himself from coming, to shift his focus.
“Ah, fuck!” she yelled.
Iron. Fucking. Control.