Nights with Him (Seductive Nights #4)(29)
Author: Lauren Blakely

“Are you embarrassed to show me how you fuck yourself?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice strong. “I would never be embarrassed. I love to masturbate.”

He breathed out hard, and she saw the outline of his dick grow. “God, that’s so fucking hot. I want to see you love yourself. Show me how you love your own body with something I made,” he commanded, and she rubbed the purple head against her damp, throbbing center. Her breath fled her chest. The intensity of the vibration spread quickly, rippling through her body from the rabbit.

“No, I want it in you. Put it all the way in. Rub your clit. Fuck your pussy. Show me how it works on the woman I want,” he said, pressing his palms on the desk, his body next to hers as she rubbed the rabbit’s ears against her clitoris, then in one slick motion, slid the shaft inside her. Her inner walls clenched against the device, and her eyes floated closed as she began to work it inside her. She heard him panting, and groaning, and then out of nowhere came a sharp sting as he tugged on the nipple clamps, both at the same time. The pain shot through her, careening through her bloodstream, but instead of hurting, it hurt so good. It was like wildfire, raging and out of control as it ran rampant in her body. In and out, she thrust The Wild One, the shaft filling her, the head of it touching her deep inside her pussy, the rabbit’s ears vibrating her into the fevered frenzy she often sought.

“Do you love fucking yourself?” he asked, flicking on the red hearts on her nipples.

“Yes,” she panted.

“Do you watch porn when you do it?”

“Usually.”

“What do you watch? Do you watch beautiful women in stockings and heels fucking themselves with their fingers?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted.

“What else?” he asked, demanding answers. Answers she was too happy to give.

“I watch it all,” she said in a breathless rush.

“Do you watch women licking each other’s pussies?”

She nodded on a harsh breath.

“And women sucking off men?”

“Yes,” she cried out.

“Do you watch men fucking men?”

“Sometimes.”

“And men fucking women, and coming all over their beautiful fucking bellies and tits?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“And what about this?” he asked, spreading her ass and flicking his finger against her rear. A tease. A hint. “Do you like to watch ass play? Fingers, toys, cocks?”

“Oh God, yes.”

He groaned loudly, and no more words came from him. No more questions. Just primal sounds of pleasure.

She was vaguely aware of the moans and groans, and it took a few seconds for her to connect all those sounds to her. She was making them. She was spread on his desk, heels hooked on the edge, legs wide open and vulnerable, head thrown back, hair spilling out, fucking herself with his toy as she cried out.

She concentrated fiercely on the orgasm she felt cresting. She swore she could see it rising up on the edge of a far cliff, like a swirl of pleasure, like a drug-induced opium haze. Jack’s voice cut through her cries.

“Stop.” His voice was firm. One word. That was all. A command.

“I don’t want to,” she protested.

“Do it anyway,” he said, and she somehow found the strength to slow the pace, her chest convulsing, her pussy twitching with the desperate need to come.

He wasn’t a sadist. He surely didn’t believe in torture. He was a man of pleasure. A man constructed and outfitted, whether it was his passion or his business, to deliver endless joy to a woman. Because when she looked up through hazy, lust-filled eyes, she was greeted with the most beautiful sight. He’d unzipped his pants, pushed down his briefs, and was rolling a condom onto his long, thick, beautifully erect cock.

She removed the toy, dropped it on his desk, and two seconds later, he yanked her by the hips, positioned himself at her entrance, and shoved into her. His breath hissed out as he filled her to the hilt. She wrapped her arms around his chest, and murmured his name. “Jack.”

“Michelle,” he said, sliding out, then back in her. “You feel so fucking good.” His eyes were glassy with desire. “I love how you made your pussy so fucking perfectly ready for me.”

“I’m so ready for you,” she said, reaching up to his face, cupping his cheeks, his stubble rough against her hands.

“Are you ready to come?” he asked, never looking away as he thrust into her, sending a flurry of white-hot sparks through her body.

“So ready. Please make me come.”

He pumped into her, fast and then faster, and every part of her felt him. Her breasts were full and on high alert, swelling with sensations, her legs were wide open for him. Her pussy was drawing him in as deep as he could possibly be, and all the while she held his face in her hands, and watched him. Watched his eyes, those cool blue eyes that didn’t seem to want to look away either. He didn’t want to break the gaze. He stayed with her, fucking her forcefully and relentlessly on his desk as she reached the edge. “That’s right. Come on my desk,” he instructed. “Come so fucking hard that I’ll never think of anything but you when I’m trying to work here.”

She didn’t know if one orgasm would ruin his work ethic for life. She didn’t care. All she knew was that her body was shattering, sensations rolling through her in some sort of sinful chaos of bliss and beauty. Crashing, rising, falling, exploding. And all that noise. All that shouting. His name. Her name. God’s name. Swearing. A cacophony of sounds of sex, flesh on flesh, slaps and moans and groans as she came undone for him. And the deepness. Oh, the terribly wonderful deepness as he pushed further into her, still driving, still thrusting, hard and then even harder until he collapsed onto her, his weight on her body, his loud grunts landing on her ears like a manifesto of his pleasure.

She panted. He groaned. They didn’t move. They lay there, spent, exhausted, their breaths harsh in the silent office, sated beyond words in a heap on his desk, turning work and the business of pleasure obsolete that Friday evening.

When at last he separated from her, he brushed his fingertips along her face. “So beautiful,” he murmured, then bent his head to her neck, layering kisses all the way to her ear. She shivered from his tender touch. “I love being with you.”

She tensed at the words, but then relaxed into his embrace. Try as she might to hold back, to resist, she loved being with him too. He asked her for her body, but the more he took of it, the more it was a package deal.