Perhaps there was a zip of panic that my dominant nature had gone dormant, but it was so small and slight I hardly felt anything beyond the dark desire to please. What the hell was happening to me? A stranger was suddenly running the show in my head, controlling my body. And I liked the way she drove.
Blinking up at him, I rasped, “More.”
His hand tightened in my hair, and he impaled me, holding my face tight to his pelvic bone as he groaned.
“I think you have a dirty side I like. I think you like it, too.” The fist in my hair tightened, jerking me back. “Can I call you my dirty little slut, Avery?”
Fuck. Never agree to anything in the throes of passion. That was rule number one about sex. “Yes.”
“Tell me who you are.”
“I’m your dirty little slut.”
“Show me.”
I angled forward, mouth open wide and his fist tightened, preventing me from closing the distance. I whimpered, delirious with wanting him.
“What does my dirty little slut want?”
“Your cock.”
“Beg me for it.”
“Please give me your cock, Noah. I want you to fuck my mouth like a dirty slut.”
“Goddamn.” He shoved his dick in my mouth and jerked my head up and down, grinding into my lips and growling out a stream of filthy words. It was … strangely empowering.
My fingers tightened around the panties, and my lips formed an airtight seal as he plunged in and out of my mouth. My scalp tingled as he pumped my mouth over his drilling cock. My arms moved, but I held the panties, sure to not let any red show.
“I need to see your hand, Avery.”
I extended my arm, so it rested in his view. My other hand curled around his hip, my fingernails digging into his skin. He ripped his dick from my mouth, and I gasped, catching my breath. I looked up at him, unsure why he stopped.
“Lick your fingers.”
I frowned but did as he asked—what he told me to do…
He shoved his dick back into my mouth, holding my hair tightly as he pressed to the back of my throat and stilled. My wet fingers tightened on his hip as my eyes leaked. He caught my hand on his hip and dragged it to his ass.
Suddenly, he released my hair. My head dropped back to the bed, and I panted. He didn’t give me much time to catch my breath.
Back in, fucking deep to the back of my throat, he moved my hand again, this time to his crack.
“Do it.”
My eyes flashed wide, my breath coming so quickly I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. He rose up on his knees, his cock still in my mouth, his hand braced on the headboard.
“I said, do it.”
He wanted me to finger him? My touch slipped down the seam of his ass and pressed on his puckered flesh.
He grunted and slowed his thrusts. “All the way in.”
Seemed there were two dirty sluts here tonight.
I pressed, and he let out a guttural moan, his body trembling as he sank his cock deep. I withdrew by the slightest degree and pressed in again. His thrusts slowed, and his moans intensified the longer I fingered him. It was evident how much pleasure he drew from my touch there, but also how new this experience was for him.
His motions turned jerky, and he withdrew his cock from my mouth. “Enough.”
I removed my finger and waited, unsure if something was wrong. “Noah?”
“Just a second.”
He climbed off the bed and reached into a drawer. He tossed a few condoms on the sheets and a bottle of lube.
“Lift up your legs.”
I lifted my bound legs, and he rested my ankles on one shoulder. The sound of foil tearing mingled with his heavy breathing. Then he was pressing my legs back until my knees were at my chest, and his cock was seeking the slightest entrance between my clamped thighs. He nudged my pussy, wet with arousal and glided home.
The fit was incredibly tight. I wasn’t sure how he was managing, but he made it work, squeezing in and out in quick, deep strokes. He used my body like a toy for his pleasure, and I let him. I wasn’t Avery Johansson tonight. I was Noah Wolfe’s dirty little slut.
Our cries of pleasure beat against the silence, dominating every other sense. It was all pleasure. Raw, unrefined pleasure.
His hips bucked faster, and his body shook. His spine jerked, and his eyes rolled shut in a magnificent show of male ecstasy. I knew I’d given him everything he wanted. Somehow that equated to me getting what I wanted, too. But I wasn’t sure how.
The belt loosened, and my legs fanned apart. My pussy was swollen and throbbing, and my heart pounded in an erratic beat. He stripped away the condom and rolled to his back, cupping my head and pulling me to rest my cheek on his abs.
I let go of the panties, not sure I needed to hold them anymore, and kissed his stomach. He groaned and ran a hand through my hair. I kissed the top of his softening cock and shifted lower, my hands gently massaging and cupping his balls.
I thought about how he took care of me the other night, worshipped my body, laving kisses all over my tender flesh long after I came. I wanted to give him the same satisfaction, so I crawled between his legs and licked every curve of him.
He watched me without saying a word. I tended to his body, and then I came back to what he’d wanted earlier, realizing the lube might have been for him.
“Can I see that bottle?”
His gaze lifted to my face, held, and then he nudged the bottle within my reach, not saying a word. I massaged the oil into my hands, coated my fingers, and looked at him.
“Do you want me to?”
His feet parted, and his knees lifted. I reached beneath his heavy sack and massaged, stroking, and gently probing. The lube made a huge difference, and the moment I sank into him, he moaned.
His cock twitched and started to swell as I slowly pumped my finger in and out. The edge was off, and our pace had slowed substantially. I tried for another finger, and he tensed.
“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
He nodded tightly, and his body visibly relaxed. My mouth lowered to the root of his cock, kissing, licking, and whispering words of praise.
He was thick and swollen by the time I was pumping my fingers easily. I stroked him slowly with my fist, watching him come to terms with the visible pleasure he was deriving from this.
There seemed a silent handoff of power, as graceful as Olympian athletes pass a torch. This time, there was no struggle or argument, only acceptance. I surrendered to him, thereby earning some of his trust, and he proved he could surrender to me in return. It was a breathtaking give and take, one I’d never experienced before.
“Come for me, Noah.”
My fingers teased deep, and he arched and moaned, come erupting over my fingers in ribbons of pearl as his body bowed beneath my touch.
His weight dropped to the bed, and I removed my hand, nestling alongside him and smiling against his ribs. A few nights ago, he flipped out when I touched him there. Now, he was practically begging for it and coming on command.
Somehow, we figured out a way to both get exactly what we wanted. And while I’d had previous lovers who allowed me to play to my proclivities’ delight, this was the first time I felt this sort of intimacy with a man.
I … liked it. I could even come to … love it. Be still my cold, twisted heart. Be still.
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