The Professional: Part 2 (The Game Maker #1.2)(27)

He licked my bud, tasting it till it was agonizingly swollen. His groans joined my moans as he ate me wetly, loudly—flicking and sucking with abandon until everything between my legs was sopping.

I perceived a droplet of my moisture trailing down my inner thigh, caught by the lacy garter-top of my hose. With a growl, he cleaned the lace with his tongue, sending my arousal spiraling. Then he set back in, ordering me, “Play with your nipples. Roll them between your fingers.”

As I played, he spread me wider, nursing the hood of my clit until my legs trembled and my toes curled in my kitten heels. “Oh, God, Sevastyan, I’m close.”

Right when I was on the verge, he broke away with a sweet kiss.

I peered down with confusion. “But . . . but you can’t stop.”

“Just did, pet.” As he laid me back on the bed, I sputtered a protest . . . that fell mute when he rose to begin stripping. He made short work of his clothes, as if he didn’t want to miss a nanosecond of this.

I gazed on adoringly, riveted to his body moving, all ruthless hardness. Each of those hollows and rises had known my lips. The gunshot graze on his arm was almost healed, another bravely earned scar to join the rest of them.

Another mark for me to kiss.

Back in the bed, he maneuvered himself between my legs, fisting his shaft, aiming between my sodden curls. Even after all the times he’d taken me, I still went wide-eyed when he delved the head inside. He took care with his size, but I’d only been doing this for a few days.

“Any more protests?” he grated as he eased home.

I arched to him, sighing, “All good here.”

As he began to thrust, I clutched the bedspread on both sides of my head. I saw his gaze flick from my hands, to my eyes, then back to my hands. When I stretched my arms over my head and crossed my wrists, his lids went heavy, and I felt his shaft pulse inside me.

“Don’t hold back, Sevastyan.”

“Not holding back.”

“Don’t you want to pin me down? Stop giving me pleasure at the expense of your own!”

He cast me a look like I was insane. “You think this isn’t pleasurable for me? It’s everything I can do not to come!”

“Then pin me down hard—because I need it.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, bending down to kiss me, tonguing me with my own taste. He brushed my nipples over and over, then trailed his hand to my mons. His thumb worked my clit until I was moaning into his mouth.

When he finally broke away to drag in a breath, my head lolled, my gaze on the TV screen. I watched him from above, savoring the view of his powerful body as it toiled to sate mine. His back was lathered with sweat, the rigid muscles of his ass flexing as he plunged between my thighs. I could see his shaft disappearing into my *, his heavy testicles drawing taut.

As his chest rubbed over my nipples, even more moisture seeped down my cleft. He gripped the curves of my ass with both hands. His spread fingers encompassed the entire width of my ass, holding me steady for his taking.

Just as I wondered if he could feel all the slickness up and down my crevice, he grated, “So wet. My woman needed to be f*cked, no?” I’d learned he tended to talk in the throes, and loved it when I talked back.

“I’ve needed it since this morning in the car. I kept imagining what you would do if I leaned over and started sucking you off.”

His fingers dug in deeper, his middle one perilously close to my rim. But it felt good. How easy it would be to use my wetness to breach me with that finger. He squeezed even harder, spreading me, inching closer.

When I imagined him gently probing my ass while his cock pillaged my *, I wriggled to get his fingers there.

“Stop, pet. You’ll give me ideas.”

Anal play had always looked hot in the porn I’d watched. Just thinking about him readying me . . . “I told you I’d try just about anything once.”

He hissed, “You want me to f*ck your ass?”

When he said it like that? With such lust? “Okay!”

“That’s not for you, beautiful girl. I’d hurt you.”

Before I’d been a dirty girl. Or a greedy one. Now this tenderness was about to drive me insane.

I was sick of this! Frustration removed any remnants of a filter that had never existed in the first place. “I’ll just imagine it then, fantasize about you forcing me to bend over the bed . . . spreading my legs and making me raise my ass so you can lube it up for your use.”

“Unh!” His hips shot forward, his body bucking even harder.

His ungoverned response shocked me. God, how badly he needed to do these things to me—how badly I needed him to! I’d already planned to wear him down. How far was I willing to go?

In a throaty voice, I said, “My arms would be tied behind my back, my mouth gagged. You’d order me to be still, commanding me to relax.” The more I talked, the easier the words came. “You’d penetrate my ass with one finger, opening me up with another.”

“Goddamn, woman!” Another harsh thrust. My words were sending him over the edge—and myself as well. Was this fighter finally on the ropes?

“Then you’d slather lube over your throbbing cock, all over that thick head, giving me no choice but to accept it.”

His breaths were heaving, his hips rocking. “You’d be so f*cking tight around me, so hot.”