Page 65 of Shame the Devil
She wailed.
* * *
She was shaking.She was trembling. She was trying to form words, and she couldn’t do it. And all he wanted in this world was to stand her up, bend her over, grab her wrists, and fuck her hard from behind.
She wanted exciting. She wanted wild. He wanted it, too. And he knew exactly how to do it.
But there was that foot.
He fumbled in the bedside table, found the box of condoms he’d thought he’d never get a chance to use, and got one on in a great big hurry. And then he got on his knees and sat over her, took her ankles in his hands, and spread her wide.
Flat on her back. Legs in the air.
She was squirming, saying, “Harlan.” He let her do it. He got up close, pulled her in by the ankles, and said, “You want another one of those?”
“Y-yes,” she said. “Yes.”
“Then take it,” he said. “Show me how you do it.” He had one hell of a view. There she was, spread as wide as a woman could get, and she couldn’t do anything about it.
“Only if … you do it, too.”
“Do what?”
She was trying to scowl. It was so cute. Tumbled red hair, white skin flushed with the force of that orgasm, her breasts heaving, that curvy mouth twisting. “You’ve just …teased,”she said. “Over and over.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I have.” He pushed her legs a little farther towards her face and moved in until he was straddling her. Almost there. So close. “All you’ve got to do is tell me. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
“I want you … inside me.” It was a gasp, and she was trying her best to squirm closer.
“Not good enough,” he said. “Get your hand down there. Time to use that skill of yours. Time to show me what you’ve got.”
He was an idiot. He needed to be inside her more than he’d ever needed anything, she was begging him to do it, and he was still holding back.
He said, “Do what I tell you.”
Her face was flaming. He was willing to bet that she’d never masturbated in front of a man in her life. She sure as hell hadn’t done it when she was wet and slick and swollen, propped up on pillows, and displayed for him, when her ankles were in his hands.
She did it. And she was right. She was good at it. And when he couldn’t stand it a single second more, he slid inside her.
Hot. Tight. Wet.
He tried to keep it slow. He tried to drag it out a little more. But he was watching it all happen, and …
Oh, yeah. But he wasn’t ready yet. He still needed to make her say it.
She was getting closer. Her eyes closing, her mouth opening. He was moving faster, too, because despite his best intentions, despite his discipline, he couldn’t hold back anymore.
Her keening breath. His hands tight around her thighs now, pulling her into him with every thrust. He said, “Tell me.” Barely able to get the words out.
He could see her back arching, her thighs tensing, one arm flung over her head, clutching at the sheet. The fabric twisting in her fist as she tried to hold on.
She opened her eyes. Gold in the firelight. Wide. Focused only on him.
He said, “Yeah. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Tell me what I want to hear.”
She said, “Harlan. Harlan. Fuck me.Please.”
Going so deep inside her, her inner walls squeezing him tight. Her eyes on him, watching him the same way he was watching her. Knowing that what she saw was exciting her more. Hearing her say things she’d never said, watching her do things she’d never done.
