The Dare Collection April 2019. Nicola Marsh
Читать онлайн книгу.
not to blow it right there and then.
I’d never had this problem before, could always put off my orgasm for as long as I wanted to, but not with this woman.
The way she gripped me, digging her nails into my back so hard they were going to leave marks. The way she moved under me, clearly hungry for more. The way she looked at me, her iris a thin emerald circle around her dilated pupils, staring at me as if I was the centre of her universe.
She wasn’t afraid and she wasn’t wary. There was no hesitation or doubt. She didn’t care about my reputation or my past. She was with me, hiding nothing. Giving everything.
I had no idea why that was so fucking hot, but it was.
Perhaps it was her responsiveness, how she was so into it. Into my touch and all the new feelings she was experiencing. Because, of course, this was all new to her.
I didn’t remember my first time, though I’d been young. I only remembered Julie, another stripper who worked at one of the lounges Dad went to. She’d liked me and I’d liked her and she took me to bed. Showed me what I liked and how to please a woman.
But none of it had felt new.
Not like it was new to Imogen.
And there was something about that, something that got to me even though I didn’t want it to.
So I tried to hold back, because I wanted to make her come again, but the feel of her satiny skin and the way her pussy was clenching around my aching dick was too much.
The orgasm burned like wildfire up my spine, a conflagration of pleasure that made me roar against her throat and sink my teeth into her shoulder, shuddering as it blinded me.
I lost myself for a while, only coming back when I felt her hands on my skin, stroking over my shoulders as if she couldn’t get enough of touching me.
What the hell had happened? I’d never had an orgasm that intense before, not with anyone.
Imogen made an impatient sound, her breath soft against my throat, so I shifted, pulling out of her and adjusting my weight so I wasn’t lying fully on her. Then I looked down.
Her face was deeply flushed, her eyes grass green. A sheen of sweat was up near her hairline and gleaming in the hollow of her throat, her pale golden hair tangled and spread all over the black linen of the bed cover. Her lovely mouth was pouty and full from my kisses...
She looked thoroughly seduced and so beautiful my breath caught.
‘You okay?’ I asked, my voice gritty and rough.
‘Omigod, so okay.’ Her face was full of awe, no trace of those earlier tears now. ‘That was just...wow. Is it always like that?’
‘Sometimes.’ I ignored the fact that it had never been like that, at least not for me. ‘Not always.’
‘Lucky for me I got the “sometimes” then.’ Her hands moved from my back to my chest, stroking over my pecs and down further, tracing my abs, her touch delicate and light. ‘That’s probably all because of you. You’re amazing, did you know that?’
Jesus, she’d better not put me on a fucking pedestal just because I’d let her cry then made her come a couple of times.
‘It’s just sex, little one. It’s not like I cured cancer.’
I hadn’t moderated my tone, but she didn’t seem to care, her full mouth turning up into a smile. ‘You don’t know. Sex like that could cure cancer. You might have a magic dick and not even know.’
This woman...
She’d cried earlier, those tears telling a story that I knew I wasn’t going to like, yet now she was lying here beneath me, looking sexy and sweet and flirting with me as if she’d done this a thousand times before.
As if she’d never been kept a prisoner by her father or screwed, and screwed hard, by the son of her father’s enemy, with no care given for the fact that she was a virgin.
Yeah, she was trouble.
And if you’re not careful you’ll get in deep.
Ignoring that thought, I pushed back a couple of golden strands of hair that had stuck to her forehead. ‘Did you ever think that maybe it’s got nothing to do with my dick? It might be that you have a magic pussy.’
Her smile got wider and she spread her hands on my chest, pressing her palms against me, making it obvious she liked the feeling of my skin on hers. ‘Hey, that’s true. I might. Still, me and my magic pussy are going with my original “you’re amazing”.’ Her fingers made another journey over my abs. ‘Can we do it again, please?’
I was getting hard again, her hands on me so good. A couple of hours only I’d promised her and hell, maybe I could stretch it out longer. Especially since I was only just getting started.
The consequences of what I’d done and everything that came with them could wait.
‘I don’t know—are you up for it?’ I stroked my hand down her body, lingering on the soft curve of her tits and the flare of her hips, down to the heat and wetness between her thighs. ‘You might be sore.’
She shuddered, parting her thighs to give me access. ‘No, I’m not sore. Oh...’ Her breath caught as I found her clit, brushing lightly over it with the tip of my finger, teasing her. Her lashes swept down and she arched her back. ‘Ajax...that feels so good...’
The way she said my name and the way she gave herself utterly to what I was doing to her was like a drug. I couldn’t get enough.
‘Wait there for me,’ I muttered, moving off the bed and crossing over into the en suite bathroom to get rid of the condom.
A minute later I was back and she opened her arms to me like we’d been lovers for years and not a mere half an hour.
For some inexplicable reason, it made my chest get tight.
Refusing to examine the feeling, I ignored it, coming back down onto the bed beside her before getting her beneath me once again. Her hands settled on my shoulders and she began to stroke me as if she had every right to touch me however she liked.
Yeah, and that was hot too.
‘What’s going to happen about your plan?’ she murmured. ‘I mean, now that I’ve been de-virginised.’
‘I’ll deal with it,’ I said shortly, not wanting to think about it right now.
There was a silence.
She began to trace the lines over my left pec. ‘Your tattoos are incredible. What do they mean?’
I’d got them when I was much younger, the lines outlining my muscles, highlighting my strength. Dad had hated them and so I’d loved them, a secret declaration that I wasn’t my father’s puppet, the way he seemed to think I was.
But I wasn’t going to explain that to her, so all I said was, ‘Nothing in particular. A tattoo artist friend designed them for me.’
‘I love them.’ Her fingers moved down my left side, a look of fascination on her face. ‘Did it hurt? Do you think I could get one done one day? Where’s the least painful place to get one?’
‘You ask a lot of questions. What’s up with that?’
Her exploring fingers slowed, her lashes sweeping down and veiling her gaze. ‘I’m...not very good at keeping quiet when I’m curious about something.’
I looked down at her lovely face. ‘Why should you be quiet when you’re interested in something?’
‘It’s not only that. I find it difficult to sit still and I often don’t think before I speak. I’m trying not to be so impulsive all the time and I know I need to control myself better, but it’s...hard.’ She paused, her attention on the black lines of my ink under her fingers.