I smile. It’s big and bright and he has no clue I’m smiling since he’s walking ahead of me. While the sex we had last night was beyond anything I could have ever imagined, and the blow job I gave him today was my best work, and I have been thinking about him all day as well as a variety of scenarios we might participate in, I think I am most pleased in this moment to know Jerico views me as something slightly more than a convenient fuck. His statement just now tells me a lot about him, but most particularly that he doesn’t have any female friends, nor does he have any close female relationships. I have no clue what it is about me that makes him feel like I’m worthy enough to talk to, but that is a conversation for another time.
That’s because Jerico walks me into the most sumptuous bedroom I’ve ever seen in my life. A massive four-poster king-size bed that is ornately carved takes up one wall. It’s covered with a navy blue and gold brocade comforter with gold braiding along the edges and gold tassels at the corners. A long dresser takes up another wall with a mirror above it. Both pieces having the same carvings as the bed. The walls are done in what appears to be silk of the same navy color that matches his bedding but with a subtly darker pattern within. A plush and expensive-looking oriental carpet done in golds, blues, and whites covers most of the hardwood flooring. To add final complement to the elegant decor, there’s a massive brass chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling with what looks like hundreds of candelabra lights.
I would consider Jerico Jameson a sophisticated man, but I had no clue his style ran so traditionally. It adds complexity to the man I am still learning about.
Jerico tosses his suit jacket on a gold brocade bench that rests at the foot of his bed and starts to unbutton his shirt sleeves as he walks toward what I believe to be the master bathroom.
“Get naked,” he says with his back turned to me. “Then get on the bed. I’ll be just a minute.”
He’s barely over the threshold to the bathroom when I retort, “Your foreplay sucks.”
Jerico turns slowly around and stares at me impassively. I stare stonily back at him and cross my arms stubbornly over my chest.
The corners of his mouth turn upward, and Jerico shakes his head as he walks back toward me. His palms come to my cheeks and his mouth comes to mine for what I thought would be a deep, hot, and wet kiss that was worthy of the term foreplay.
Instead, he feathers his lips briefly against mine before pulling back to smile at me. “You are going to be begging me to stop my foreplay, Trista. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s going to drive you crazy. Now I’m going into the bathroom to get a few things that we’ll need and I would appreciate it if you would save me the time of undressing you or even possibly saving your wardrobe because I want you so badly I could see me tearing your clothes off.”
I blink at him. My mouth parts open in surprise.
Jerico grins at me. “Any questions?”
All I can do is shake my head, which satisfies Jerico. He returns to the bathroom, and I take off all my clothes before crawling into the middle of his bed to wait for him.
?
“Please stop,” I beg Jerico as he continues to lick between my legs. I’ve had three orgasms so far, and I am going crazy with the need to have him inside of me.
Jerico chuckles against me and I have to struggle not to slam my knees against the sides of his head in retaliation.
Fucker.
He was absolutely right. I am begging and pleading for him to move past his foreplay.
To my relief, Jerico pushes up and crawls backward off the bed, using his forearm to wipe the back of his mouth, which is shiny with my juices. I’ve never known a man like Jerico who enjoys pleasuring a woman orally so much. It’s with a little bit of melancholy that I realize once this thing runs its course with us, I’m probably never going to have it as good as I’ve had it with him again.
Reaching a hand out to me, Jerico says, “Come off the bed.”
I clasp his palm and let him pull me up. When my feet hit the rug, my toes sinking down into its decadence, my legs feel like they’re going to buckle. Jerico turns me around with his hands at my waist and sits down on the edge of the bed, pulling me in between his legs. Leaning toward me, his mouth closes over one of my nipples and he gives it a hard suck before letting it pop free from his mouth. I groan from the sensation and wait for him to do the same to my other breast.
Instead, his expression turns intense as he tells me, “We’re going anal.”
I jerk and try to step backward, but his hands are on my hips to hold me in place.
Shaking my head, I whisper, “There is no way your dick is going to fit in my ass.”
Jerico laughs lightly and squeezes my hips with affection.
Yes, that was affection from the self-proclaimed hedonist.
“I’m going to start the process of getting you ready I should have said,” he amends.
Jerico leans to the side and grabs something off his nightstand. When he straightens back up, he holds an object up for me to examine.
“So you’re going to use a butt plug?”
“A small one,” he clarifies with a wicked smile. “I promise you it will feel good.”
I study the glass plug, which is no thicker than his index finger and I have to admit, it doesn’t intimidate me. I don’t know if the fact I was able to have dirty sex in front of complete strangers with a man who is a virtual stranger broke something open within me, but I feel this adventurous spirit… Almost as if I’ve been freed from some sort of intangible shackles.
My gaze goes from the plug to Jerico’s eyes, which seem brighter than normal. “Okay. Let’s give it a try.”
Jerico’s hand shoots out to grab me behind the neck. He pulls me roughly to him for a hot, possessive kiss. When he releases me, his voice sounds like pure sin as he says, “Turn around and grab your ankles.”
Adrenaline, fear, excitement, and plain old giddiness course through me.
I turn around, bend at the waist, and grab my ankles.
CHAPTER 13
Jerico
Trista isn’t the first woman who’s bent over and grabbed her ankles at my command.
But she is the first to induce a wave of lust so shockingly powerful, my balls tighten up in anticipation of an orgasm.
Drawing in a silent but deep breath, I smooth the palms of my hands over Trista’s ass to collect myself. The silkiness of her skin turns me on even more. As I slide one palm down the back of her thigh, I contemplate what it is about this woman that is affecting me differently than others.
There’s no doubt the two orgasms I’ve had with her have been spectacularly better than anything I’ve experienced in a long fucking time. But the question is why?
Trista is beautiful, but that alone isn’t the cause. I’ve had women just as beautiful, if not more so.
Perhaps it’s because of the very thing Kynan pointed out to me.
She’s an innocent.
Not so innocent she’s a virgin, but the world she has stepped inside of is sordid and depraved, and for every experience she has inside The Wicked Horse, a little more of that innocence is being scraped away. I’m a fucker for thinking it, but I might be getting off on teaching her how to push past her normal boundaries.