He stopped as abruptly as he’d begun and shoved to his feet, a pained grimace twisting his face an instant before his mouth came back down on hers. She opened instantly, twining her tongue with his, her hands greedily shoving his T-shirt up.
He tore it over his head and grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to bend her over an English saddle draped over a sawhorse near the wall.
Yesss…
She wanted him inside her. Wanted to feel him stretching and filling her as he took them both over the edge.
She tossed the back of her trench to one side, threw her hair over her shoulder and looked back at him as the rasp of a zipper lowering filtered through the echo of the pounding rain. His face was set, his eyes blazing as he freed himself, his eyes on the glistening flesh between her thighs.
She set her palms on the seat of the saddle to brace her arms and widened her stance. Tempting him. Daring him, her clit throbbing and her body on fire.
There was no time to touch him. No time to enjoy the view behind her as he stepped up close and seized a fistful of her hair.
She sucked in a breath, surprised, but his grip was assertive, not painful. And when he pressed his bearded face into the curve of her neck to suck on a sensitive spot that sent a shiver through her, she felt the hard warmth of him pressing against her folds.
“Is this what you wanted?” he rasped out, his tongue gliding over that same spot while he kept hold of her hair, the authoritative position and the tantalizing pressure of him lodged at her entrance sending another wave of heat through her. “Is this what you wanted to happen when you came in here wearing that and started pushing me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, pushing her hips toward him. Growing desperate to feel him inside her.
He made a low, rough sound that was almost a reprimand, the hand in her hair squeezing as he pressed his hips forward, lodging the thick head of his cock inside her. Before she could even process the sensation, he dropped his other hand around her to slide between her legs, fingers tightening on either side of her clit.
Her breathing faltered, belly and thigh muscles quivering against the strain, the tantalizing pressure of his fingers and cock teasing all her most sensitive nerve endings, without giving her the friction she needed to get off.
“Marcus.” Her voice was breathless, pleading.
“Ask me for it,” he said in a delicious, deep voice that made her shiver. She’d always sensed this dominant edge inside him. It made her even wetter, her body tightening around him. Dying for more. “Ask me for it nicely.”
Her mind rebelled at being told what to do, even by him, but she craved the pleasure he could deliver, and there was no shame in surrendering to this. In surrendering to him. And she desperately wanted the release waiting coiled deep inside her.
She licked her lips and allowed herself to slip into a submissive mindset, excited to see where it took them. “Please,” she whispered, putting the edge of a whimper into it.
He made a low, rough sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Please what?” He tightened his fingers and dragged them up and down either side of her clit, all the while holding her in place while refusing to thrust deeper, giving her just enough stimulation to keep her at a simmer. “Say it.”
It took all her will to stay still instead of pressing back toward him and take over from the bottom the way she longed to. She could feel the wild, dominant energy pulsing from him. He needed this. They both did.
Licking her lips, she remained still, waiting. Frantic for more. He’d never shown her this side of him. How long would he make her wait?
“Please make me come,” she whispered in a rush, breathing fast.
He growled against her neck and drove deep, his fingers sliding along her clit in a way that lit up every nerve ending. Her eyes squeezed shut at the sudden lash of sensation, her lips parting on a soft cry of pleasure. Of surrender.
“No,” he bit out, stopping his fingers to merely cradle her most sensitive spot while he withdrew from her body almost completely before surging back inside.
Slow, full thrusts that made her feel every hard inch of him, cradling her clit but not giving her anything else. She hissed out a breath and dug her fingers into the leather of the saddle, his low, erotic groans punctuating each thrust making her crazy as he enjoyed her but refused to let her come. Reminding her that he was the one in control. That she belonged to him.
She cursed in her head, fought to stay still when her entire body demanded she take over. She trembled with a mix of anticipation and the most exquisite frustration she’d ever felt, but she’d be lying if she said what he was doing didn’t turn her the hell on.
Just when her control began to fray he shifted, releasing his grip on her hair to hold her hip, more low sounds of masculine pleasure vibrating in her ears as he thrust slow and deep again and again. The change in grip and his steady motion tipped her hips forward, rubbing her clit against his cradling fingers.
She sucked in a breath, her head dropping forward as tingles of ecstasy shot everywhere, making her legs quiver. She wanted to come so badly, could feel it building, building…
As if he sensed it, he stroked his fingers softly over her clit, the motion almost lazy.
God, yes. More.
She pressed her lips together to hold back a cry. Her heart was racing, her breathing unsteady, the high-heeled boots making her legs wobble. This was the sweetest torture, and while she desperately wanted the orgasm building within her, a tiny part of her wanted it to keep going.
“You came out here to seduce me, thinking you could manipulate me into forgetting everything else.” His voice was a deep, dark rasp against her ear as he stroked her swollen clit again, harder this time. Making her shiver with longing. “But I won’t forget, love, because you’re mine. Mine to take care of. Mine to pleasure. Mine.”
The utter possessiveness behind his words thrilled her as much as they turned her on. This time there was no controlling the whimper that rolled from her throat as he hit the most perfect spots, inside and out. Her control suddenly shattered, making her babble mindlessly.
There was no pulling back from the pleasure. No escape or even the urge to shut it out.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she blurted, uncaring that she was begging him, focused only on the intensity of this moment together.
His breathing turned harsher, his grip on her hip tightening as he surged a little faster. Harder, the tender, swirling caress of his fingers enough to wring erotic moans from her throat.
The orgasm that he’d been keeping frustratingly out of reach suddenly began to gather low in her belly. A storm about to break.
When it finally did, she threw her head back and shouted to the ceiling, bucking in his hold, greedy for more friction, more pleasure. Milking every ounce of it from him that she could.
Locking his arm around her waist, he drove deep one last time and stiffened, frozen in place as his guttural growl of release sounded in her ear and he pulsed inside her.
Dazed, trembling muscles melting like butter in a hot pan, Kiyomi leaned forward, all but collapsing on top of the saddle. Mind blank, body floating.
Marcus groaned and let go of her to brace himself on the saddle as well, breathing hard. A soft kiss landed on her shoulder, then he eased from her body, his hand smoothing down her spine as the back of her trench slid back to cover her damp skin.