Protege(30)

“Now the zipper.”

Swallowing, she slid the zipper free. His arousal, dark and full, sprang upward against an auburn nest of curls. He was very thick, likely the thickest she’d ever seen.

“Take my cock in your hand and stroke it.”

And there it was, that direct authority calling to her once more. Curiosity returned as she reached forward. His flesh heated her palm as her fingers curled around his length. She stroked slowly, her elbow bent outward to accommodate him.

“I like your hands on me, peach.”

Thrilled by his words, she firmed her grip. His hand pressed into her shoulders, pushing her back to the mattress, and she released him when the angle changed.

“I’m going to f*ck you, Collette. You’ve made me wait all night and now I want to get off. Tomorrow—if you behave—will be more about your needs.”

There was hardly any time to prepare as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and his cock pressed against her sex. She expected his entrance to be challenging, but her body was slick with arousal. It was surprising how wet she was. Some men had spent hours on foreplay and still struggled with coaxing her body to that point, yet he’d managed with only a few direct commands.

With little time to mentally prepare, he slid in to the hilt, and her body stretched at the sudden intrusion, breath whooshing out of her lungs, as the forgotten feeling of being taken rushed in. So many uniquely human sensations flooded her nervous system—the press of the mattress against her back, the softness of her hair surrounding her face, the rich scent of him, all of him, so strong she swallowed the memory with every breath.

“How is that? Any discomfort from earlier?”

So distracted, it took her a moment to understand what he was asking. Her appointment that morning at the doctor’s seemed like a lifetime ago. As the specialist had said, her body had recovered immediately and she felt no different with the IUD than she had without it. It touched her that, for as dispassionate and methodical as this all seemed, he paused to consider her comfort. “I’m just full, Sir. You’re very large.”

“Good.”

Unblinking, she stared up at him. It was the most impersonal sex she’d ever had. Yet her body was quivering and slick with arousal. He was awakening something inside her. Perhaps it was the idea that this was solely about his needs and she was somehow meeting them.

Leaning over her, he looked into her eyes. “Do you have something to say?”

He was so thick her tissue stretched to accommodate him. If he touched her clit she’d come. It was unheard of. What did he want her to say? It suddenly seemed imperative that she do everything he asked. He’d told her not to speak unless she needed to use her safe word or . . . “Thank you, Sir.”

He smiled and thrust hard. She moaned with the force of his entry. His grip tightened around her hips, holding her at the edge of the mattress as he proceeded to f*ck her at a fixed pace. And then she understood. Him. This was about him. Yet she’d yearned to serve a Dom so deeply, in a strange way it was also about her. He was feeding a starved part of her soul with every greedy advance.

He wasn’t gentle, but he also wasn’t aggressive. His thrusts were intentional, deep, and his grip was unmoving, but he wasn’t assaulting her in anyway. She’d never had a man fill her in such a penetrating and paced manner. It was definitely having a positive effect on her as her heart raced and her tummy tightened with the desire to come.

She moaned as pleasure built steadily. Everything about the way he took her was selfish and precise. It was as if he were purposely trying to make her feel like she wasn’t there, but he couldn’t do it. His eyes returned to her face, intently watching for any sign of distress. Somehow she knew if she so much as winced he would stop.

Amused by his assumption that consensual sex could be one-sided because the man wills it so, she decided to have some fun of her own. Her neck arched as she purposely parted her lips and let out a long, breathy moan. “Oh, Mr. Duval, you’re so powerful and big. I think I might come.”

His rhythm staggered and she smirked as he scowled at her. Teasing seemed something he wasn’t accustomed to, so she went on, groping her breasts and sighing with the build of an Academy Award–winning orgasmic performance. She stopped the second he gripped her wrists and ripped them away from her body, pressing them into the bedding and driving his cock deep with a punishing thrust.

The next sigh was genuine, as something dark and unknown took hold of her as he forcefully reclaimed control. Blinking up at him, she understood: While he wasn’t immune to a little teasing, he would not be mocked when it came to this. He thrust again and she lost sight of all joking matters.

No one had ever watched her with the acute intensity he was watching her with now. No one had filled her with such promising aggression, every push proving to show her who was in control. His authority penetrated deeper than anything else, deliciously so. It became clear he’d give her no reason to fake anything, but he also would decide when she came.

As his motions continued, each advance sinking deep with reverberating pressure, her muscles contracted, tighter and tighter. Her lungs worked hard to keep up, as her thoughts, no matter how she tried to separate them from the act, continued to spiral. This meant something—something very different from the typical meaning garnered through intimacy. Despite his self-devoted intentions, pleasure shot through her veins, coursing in a steady rush of implication she couldn’t simplify.