Letting Go Read online

  The zipper of her coat rasped louder than her heartbeat as he slid it down. His palm swallowed the small mound of her breast, bare beneath her shirt because he’d requested it, pressing and massaging, stoking the burning ache, sending it deeper, and all she could do was stand there and take the pleasure he was giving her. The way he wanted. Oh God. Her knees buckled. It was so good.

  He caught her easily, holding her still for more of his touch, his desire. The pinch of his thumb and forefinger on her nipple made her jump, except she couldn’t go anywhere, do anything. He was in charge. In complete control. Her lids fluttered open. He was staring down at her, the desire burning so brightly in her mirrored in the tight set of his expression. Along with that realization came another. He liked her like this. The knowledge settled deep, giving her the courage to lower her lids, lick her lips, and ask, “Is that all you’ve got?”

  His laugh was more sensual than amused; the answer he gave short and to the point. “Hardly.”

  The pressure on her nipple increased to the point of pain. His gaze never left hers as she waited, breath suspended in her chest, womb clenched expectantly, whether in hope or dread, she didn’t know. With a small smile, he released her nipple and turned her around. Becky stood there, breath shuddering, adrenalin flowing for three uncomprehending seconds until he said, “Bend over.”

  And the conflagration started again, her mind racing ahead of her actions, picturing how she’d look to him, her hands braced on the bed, her rear thrust back in a purely submissive pose.

  When she would have shrugged off her coat, Marc caught her shoulders.

  “No.”

  Subtle pressure bent her over. She caught her weight on her hands, feeling awkward and vulnerable and as turned on as she’d ever been as his hand grazed up the inside of her thigh, pressing her leg to the left in a smooth demand before repeating the same caress with the other leg.

  His fingertips pressed lightly against her pussy. “I’ve been thinking about this since morning.”

  It was a struggle to find her voice. “What exactly is ‘this’?”

  His shadow fell over her as he stood, making her vividly aware of his size, the need to dominate he’d always kept in check for her. The need she’d asked him to let loose. His hands on the waistband of her sweatpants were cold. She jumped. Her pants and underwear followed the shiver as it snaked down to her toes. “Your ass.”

  Which told her nothing and suggested everything.

  The snap of his fingers against her right cheek had her jumping again. “Push back.”

  She did.

  Another tiny slap, this one so soft it seemed to absorb the sting of the other. In the aftermath, his palm lingered. “You liked that?”

  There was no way she could deny it, even if every liberated bone in her body demanded that she do so. Those betraying goose bumps were at it again, telegraphing her delight. The zipper of his jeans rasped loudly in the silence. She swallowed hard; the image of him taking her fully clothed played like a siren’s lure in her mind. Hard, deep, his focus on his pleasure. Oh yes. She wanted him to take her like that. To use her for his satisfaction, to let her be nothing more than what he needed this once. Not having to think, to worry, just being there to satisfy him would be so good.

  His fingers slipped between her thighs, callused and rough, sliding easily across her shaved labia. His laugh, when he found her open and wet, held the smile she’d missed earlier.

  “Looks like you’ve been thinking, too.”

  “Yes.” She always thought about him.

  “Did you prepare yourself like I ordered?”

  He could feel that she had, so he must just want to hear her say it. “Yes.” Admitting that sent another quiver of delight through her. Took her another step deeper into her fantasy where her submissive side got free rein.

  “Good.”

  He eased his cock up the crack of her ass. It slid smoothly on the lubricated skin, making her shudder and push back. His thumbs rubbed the inside of her cheeks, holding her open for the next stroke.

  The fat head of his cock caught on the edge of her anus. Hunger, hot and dark, shot inward. Her cry was involuntary. He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe for a second — and then he snuggled the broad head against the tight opening, teasing her with the promise of the forbidden.

  “Step out of your pants,” he ordered darkly, then stood still, letting her efforts to follow his order work him up and down the crease.

  As soon as she was free, she resumed her position. He pushed her ankle with his foot. “Wider.”

  She complied immediately, feeling completely exposed. It only increased her excitement. His cock throbbed against her. The touch of his fingers changed from caressing to possessive as he moved her around, letting the head of his cock probe first her ass and then lower; not entering, just stroking like one might with a finger.

  It was pure torment to stand so, bent over, exposed, wondering where he would take her. When? Would he be fast or slow? Would he let her come, or would he leave her hanging, deliciously full of his semen, pulsing with anticipation?

  He rubbed his cock over her buttocks. Despite her efforts to stay quiet, a whimper escaped. It felt too good to tolerate in silence. He rubbed some more. She gave up the effort to control her breathing. It came out ragged and loud.

  He pulled back and his cock tapped at her anus. “Are you ready for me?”

  He had to know she was. He’d told her to keep herself always ready for him and she did though he’d never taken her that way. Mainly because she always froze up. Her “Yes” was a soft moan of expectancy.

  He slid a finger in her ass. The tight ring spasmed, clutching him hard.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, trying to steady her knees beneath the surge of pleasure.

  “I guess you are,” he murmured at the smoothness of his entry, probing gently. She moaned again and pushed back, trying to establish a rhythm. He stretched her wider and introduced another finger. For a moment, she balked, tightening against the invasion. He paid her no mind, pulling his fingers out, dragging against her sensitive flesh as he withdrew.

  “Relax and push back,” he coaxed, easing them back in, spreading her as he did. “You know you love this.”

  She did. She loved it when he played with her ass, no matter how he took it. Gentle or rough, it turned her on until she could scream just thinking about him eventually claiming it. She took a breath, waited for the next withdrawal and then pushed back.

  “That’s it,” he murmured. “Show me how much you like it.”

  She didn’t have much choice. Her nerves were on fire. Her entire being focused on his fingers and the pace he was setting, slow and easy when she wanted hard and fast, every twist, every scissor of his fingers divine torture. When she was almost screaming with frustration, he pulled free.

  His cock tapped her frantically throbbing opening. She jerked up, hips hungrily rearing back, wanting the consummation. Only to be denied again when he stepped back. She dropped her head to the mattress, her pussy aching, ass clenching, feeling so empty she thought she’d die from it.

  Marc nudged her foot with his again. She widened her stance. It took two more nudges before she was at the level he wanted, legs wide, tight muscles straining, every sense attuned to him, wanting him. “Perfect.”

  It was the only warning she had before he pushed his thick cock into her pussy. She bucked and would have collapsed if he hadn’t anchored her hips with his hands, holding her steady for the solid penetration.

  It wasn’t easy taking him like this — he was a big man and her inner muscles struggled to accept his width as he pressed inexorably inward — but it was also arousing as hell. Feeling his cock drive deep, having him pull her hips back into his on the grinding descent; hearing his orders to take him, to fuck him, moaned hoarsely in her ear as his fingers dug into her thighs, giving her no choice but to do as he ordered, to pleasure him as he needed. It was her wildest fantasy, having him use her like she
was there for his pleasure only. And it was now coming true.

  She pushed back, taking another inch, his curse flowing above her just so much sweet music because she knew she’d drawn it from him against his will. Just as she knew the next thrust wasn’t as controlled as the first. Yes, yes, yes! With every hard thrust she opened wider, took him deeper.

  She braced her arms on the bed, pushing back further. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted him to pound that thick cock into her, ride her until he couldn’t hold it anymore. She wanted him to claim her, to make her his in a totally primitive way that went far deeper than any woman would consider politically correct. She wanted him to fuck her without finesse, without control. Just him and her and the need she inspired in him. She wiggled her hips. A smart sting on her right cheek halted the movement. “Stay still and take it.”

  Oh God! She bit her lip as the sting melded with the heat burning her from the inside out, feeding it. How had he known? In her dreams he said things like that to her, did things like this to her, but she’d never told him, never written it down. How had he known this part of her fantasy she’d never dared to confess?

  His cock continued to plunder her pussy, pushing solidly in, catching on sensitive nerve endings as her muscles parted to accommodate his width, dragging and stretching her flesh as he withdrew, every stroke, every heated inch destroying the control she prided herself on. The control she didn’t want in bed. Her clit ached and pulsed, needing his touch, her touch, anything. All it would take was the barest stimulation there and she’d go hurtling over the precipice she could sense him approaching.

  He didn’t give it to her. Just kept filling her with his cock, feeding her need, her desire, building it until she wanted it to go on forever yet she didn’t think she could bear it if it did. Continuing until she couldn’t think of anything beyond the fact that she was his, and she loved him so.

  With a thrust so deep it pierced her soul Marc came, grinding his hips so deeply into hers, his zipper cut into the flesh of her buttocks. She pushed back, begging for more. Becky could feel his cock pulse that brief second before it jerked, tapping against her G-spot, filling her with his hot come, giving her some of what she wanted but not enough. Not enough to come. She clawed at the comforter and clenched again. His dark laugh let her know he knew what she was doing. What he was doing to her.

  “You want more?”

  She shuddered and admitted the glorious truth. “Yes.”

  His big hand worked between them, cupping her pussy. “Greedy thing.”

  She had no defense. She was greedy. She wanted more. Everything he could give her.

  His cock jerked within her, touching that spot. His fingers, snapped against the pad of her pussy, sharp and hard. She stiffened in shock as wild sensation burned up into her womb. Before she could sort it out, he was doing it again, harder, stronger. Delight cut through shock, a mixture of sweet pain and searing pleasure, to strong to deny, too overwhelming to sort out. Too fucking fantastic to resist.

  “Come for me.”

  Low, deep and intent, the order didn’t leave her any choice. On the next slap she did, bucking and arching her hips for more of whatever he wanted to give her, open to the pleasure, the pain or a combination of the two. Just open….

  He was holding her, his arms wrapped around her while his big body covered her. With every breath she took, she absorbed his scent, hers, theirs.

  His cock flexed within her. They were still joined. Becky opened her hands on the mattress, bracing herself — for what, she didn’t know, just whatever was going to happen to destroy this moment.

  His lips skimmed her temple, her cheek, soft gentle caresses that melted into her soul.

  “Can you feel my seed in you?” he asked, pulling his still-hard cock almost all the way out before sliding back in, his voice as quiet and as deep as the night around them.

  “Yes.”

  “It makes you hot, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  The order wasn’t unexpected. The surge of lust at hearing it, at contemplating obeying it, was. She dug her nails into the sheet, holding on as the quiver shook her from head to toe. Her voice, when she found it, was husky and raw, as if all the screams she’d suppressed over the years had left their mark. “When you fill me with your seed, it makes me crazy.”

  He stroked her again, slow and lazy. “How crazy?”

  “I can’t get enough of it,” she admitted breathlessly. “Of you.”

  She surged back, almost there, but he stepped away.

  She was suddenly, devastatingly empty. She groaned a protest.

  A brush of flesh on flesh, and then there was only the lingering warmth of his seed inside her, keeping her achingly aroused. She knew she’d stay that way until she could no longer feel his essence.

  “Take off your clothes,” he instructed quietly. “And then climb into bed and close your eyes.”

  A light slap on her rear had her hurrying to comply. The sheets were chilly. She lay there on her back, shivering with cold and anticipation until the heat from the fire seeped through and then it was just anticipation shaking her from head to toe.

  It took her a minute to realize Marc had left the room. With her eyes closed, every other sense seemed to magnify, especially her sense of hearing. She could hear him in the bathroom washing up, track his move to the living room, and then back. He stopped just inside the bedroom door.

  She pushed the covers down, the smooth cotton gliding sensuously across her stomach and thighs. The catch of his breath was audible. She smiled, drew up her knee and arched her back, giving him a view of everything that was his.

  “Still playing with fire, sweetheart?”

  “Mmm.” She spread her legs wide, imagining how she looked to him, wanton and eager. His shirt dropped to the floor in a soft rustle. His wallet hit the bureau with a heavy thud. The change in pocket of his jeans jingled as they slid down his legs. The mattress dipped under his weight.

  It dipped again as he moved closer. His arm brushed her shoulder. The heat of his body covered her as light as a touch. His scent enveloped her in a familiar hug.

  She sensed his lips before she felt them pressing against hers. His whispered, “I love you,” wove around her in a protective spell. She whispered it back, letting the vow follow her breath into his mouth, envisioning it blending with his until the two were hopelessly intertwined. His hand curved around her head in a gentle vise, holding her still for his kiss. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him still for hers.

  Marc separated his mouth a scant inch from hers. “Don’t open your eyes.”

  “Okay.”

  His finger traced her lip. “No matter what.”

  Anticipation nudged her pulse up a notch. “No matter what.”

  His fingers fanned over the side of her face. He eased her lower lip away from her teeth with his thumb. “I like your mouth.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she settled for a “Thank you.”

  “I want it on me.”

  She touched the fleshy pad of his thumb with her tongue. “Now?”

  “Yeah. Now.”

  When she would have slid down his body, he tightened his grip on her head. “Turn around first.”

  The covers wrapped around her as she shifted, then were tugged away, leaving her with only smooth cotton and smooth skin to guide her. She fumbled a little without the use of sight, relying on his hand for guidance. The tendons in her inner thighs strained as she straddled his chest. He was a big man all over. Built strong, inside and out. Solid. Someone she could depend on always. She kissed her way down his stomach, going with the rise and fall of his abs, counting the ridges. One, two, three.

  Her lips dipped into the well of his navel, explored and then moved below, following the thin line of hair beneath. His hand tangled in her hair. Ignoring the silent demand she worked lower, not stopping until she found the soft sac of his balls. It came as n
aturally as breathing to kiss them. His breath hissed in only to be released immediately, sighing, “That’s good.”

  Marc widened his thighs. She nuzzled them gently, sucking softly on the delicate flesh, before kissing them again. Against her cheek, his cock stirred. Because she loved to feel him quicken with life, she snuggled his semi-soft penis against her tongue, cherishing this brief time when she could hold him in his entirety.

  With a tug on her thigh, he drew her across his torso until she was covering him like a living blanket. That was fine with her. Having him like this, relaxed beneath her while the echoes of their previous pleasure wrapped them in an intimate cocoon was a pleasure unto itself. She scooted back as his cock grew too big to hold in her mouth, letting her lips slide up his length until only the mushroom shaped head rested inside the taut circle. She twirled her tongue around the firm tip, compressing with her lips before sucking lightly, the spike of his hips a hot incentive to do it again.

  He moaned and shoved the blankets clear. The hand on her head pushed down even as he pushed his hips up. Becky took what she could, giving him as much as she could, wanting to please him this way, too. A bead of pre-come spilled into her mouth, salty, spiced with that flavor that was uniquely Marc, seeping into her desire in a lazy intoxicating wave that gathered momentum as another deep, masculine moan flowed into the darkness around her.

  God! She loved the taste of him. The feel. She grasped the base of his shaft in her hand, angling him back. She kept up a lazy rhythm, her senses focusing on the moment and everything surrounding it: the heat of his cock, the throb of his pulse, the stretch in her thighs, the ache in her core, the weight of his palm. In her pussy, she still felt the hot weight of his seed like a loving promise yet to be fulfilled.

  Beneath her, Marc shifted. His chest muscles rippled along the inside of her thighs as he reached for something. In her hypersensitive state, she could feel every ridge of muscle, every expansion of breath.

  “Are your eyes closed?”