Page 21 of Bad Boy Done Wrong
He dropped a kiss on her sex. “Ready?”
“Yes!” He was being so strangely sweet considering she was tied to his bedposts and he’d just promised to make her so crazy she’d want to pull at her restraints.
That was the last coherent thing she said. His fingers were magic—stroking, pinching, thrusting inside her, bringing her to the edge of release. She tensed, panting, about to explode when he stopped and kissed her inner thigh. And then kissed his way up her body to whisper in her ear, “Let me do one more thing and I’ll give it to you.”
“Please,” she moaned.
He kissed his way back down her body, this time working her with his lips and tongue and teeth, making her body bow up off the mattress, keening with need. The tension coiled within her, higher and higher. Oh, God, yes. Please, please, please.
He lifted his head, whispering something that sounded soothing.
She could barely focus. “What?”
He levered back up her body, thrusting his finger in her mouth, which she sucked, tasting herself, erotic and hot. Her hips lifted in shameless entreaty. He whispered in her ear, “One more thing. Then you can come.”
She moaned. His wet finger stroked down her throat. His lips followed the trail of his finger down her body between her breasts, down her belly, stopping just short of her throbbing, aching center.
He blew softly across her sex, stroking her lazily up and down, over and over, murmuring praise as she moved to his rhythm, needing so much more. She yanked at her ties, wanting to smack him or jump on him. Something to ease this never-ending ache.
“Easy,” he soothed, sliding his fingers inside her.
She let out a shaky breath. “Please this time. Please.”
He stroked inside her and then shifted so his thumb was working her at the same time. Her entire body jolted as he found the G spot she’d heard about but never felt. He increased the pressure, his thumb stroking back and forth, faster and faster, his fingers stroking on the inside. She writhed with need, her hips raised off the bed, wild animal sounds escaping from somewhere deep inside.
The pressure eased as he gentled and slowed. He used his other hand to push her hips back on the mattress. “Easy, relax.”
She looked to the ceiling and let out a stream of curses.
He cupped her sex and held it. “Now you’re getting it.”
She looked at him, ready to scream. “What am I getting?”
His voice was low and gruff. “You’re mine to do as I please. I say when. I say how much. No choice but to go with it.”
Her breath hitched, her skin fever-hot, every nerve ending electrified. He stroked her gently, lazily, and she whimpered, her legs quivering.
“Unless you use your safe word, naughty girl,” he drawled.
She closed her eyes in refusal and then they flew open as his mouth closed over her throbbing center just as his fingers thrust inside her, stroking slow and easy. She was wild with need, bucking under him, but he stilled her with one large hand on her hip. She keened long and low.
All of his intense focus on her.
Everything just for her.
And she just couldn’t…take…much…more.
She trembled as he pushed her slow and easy, over and over, and then she broke, shock waves of pleasure radiating from her core, shooting straight down her legs and up her torso. A full-body orgasm like she’d never felt before. She panted, her heart pounding, electrified. She had no idea she could come like that.
Finally he released her and she relaxed, limp and sated.
“One more time,” he said, standing next to the bed, quickly stripping off his clothes and rolling a condom on.
She swallowed, beyond words, sure she didn’t have “one more time” in her. He returned to her, lifted her legs up and over his shoulders, and thrust deep.
“Yes!” she cried.
And then he was pounding into her, rocking her, hitting just the right spot, and she was crying out in pure bliss. His hand slipped between them, stroking rapidly, and she lost it, the orgasm slamming through her, stealing her breath. He kept going, thrusting deep, hard and fierce. It was too much. The intensity. Her body clenched around him, her heart pounding as hard as he was pounding, wild, primal, lost in shock waves of sensation all controlled by him.
“Zach!” she cried out, her head thrashing from side to side, the only movement she could manage.
He held her by the jaw and cheek, keeping her still and their eyes locked on some deep primitive level that made her tremble. Then he thrust deep and she exploded with a harsh gasp, stunned, light-headed in a haze of pleasure as he pumped for his own release and finally let go.
A long moment later, he withdrew and lowered her shaky legs to the mattress. She was drenched in sweat, his and hers, in a shocked state of wonder that she could ever experience those kinds of orgasms—a full-body radiating pleasure, a hard slamming explosion and then another. She’d never known. He’d made her come before but not like that.
His big hands framed her face and he kissed her gently before untying her wrists, kissing the underside of each tenderly, and then pulling her into his arms.
She felt safe, protected, cherished. She’d never experienced anything like it. Passion and tenderness. Who knew a bad boy could do all that?
