The Dare Collection April 2019. Nicola Marsh
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pens and different inks, practising for a day before putting everything aside and never picking up a pen again.
Ajax was the adult version of my interest in tropical fish. Or my calligraphy. He was the Mandarin I’d tried to teach myself once, the astronomy I’d been obsessed with for a whole month.
He was a puzzle that only got more complex and more interesting the closer I examined him, and I suspected that sex was merely scratching the surface of who he was.
Whatever, I knew myself. I knew that my obsession with him wasn’t going to ease until I’d satisfied my curiosity and the only way I was going to do that was to figure out a way to get close to him.
And obviously the best way to get close to him was through more sex.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the hours I’d spent in his bed. About how free he’d made me feel and how accepting he’d been of me and my quirks. How he’d actively encouraged me to be curious about his body and how it had fit with mine.
No one had ever made me feel as if it was okay to be myself the way he had.
So, after the first day or so of obsessing, I’d decided that I had to do something about it. Such as convincing him to take me to bed again.
Unfortunately, for that to work, he had to be around and he wasn’t. Which meant I had to try something different—getting him to come to me.
I’d been thrilled when my little ploy of hanging out by the pool in my green bikini and playing loud music had worked. But then he’d been a dick, giving me all sorts of crap about how busy he was, all the while staring at me like he wanted to eat me alive and pretending he wasn’t as hard as a rock.
So, to give him some incentive, I’d taken my bikini off. And, judging by the way he’d launched himself into the water, that was all the push he’d needed, which thrilled me down to the bone.
Still, I wasn’t sure why he’d been denying himself what we both wanted and I’d already decided I was going to find out.
I was going to find out everything.
But maybe after I let him catch me.
I turned over on my front, making an attempt to swim away, but his fingers closed around my ankle and he jerked me towards him. I took a breath as I went under, then his hands closed around my hips and I was out of the water again, being pulled against his hot, hard body and held there, face to face with him.
‘Tease.’ The hunger in his eyes blazed.
‘You can talk.’ I spread my palms out on his chest, loving the contrast of his heat with the cool press of the water on my skin. ‘I’ve been in agony for two whole days.’
‘Agony?’ His hands slid over my butt as he fitted my hips against his, the denim of his wet jeans rough against my sensitive bare flesh. ‘You should have come to me.’
‘I would have. If you’d been around.’
‘I’m around now.’ He squeezed me, not gently.
I gasped, the slight bite of pain adding to the rub of his wet clothing on my tender skin, the friction maddeningly erotic.
The feral look on his face intensified, as if he liked the sound very much. ‘What’s wrong, little one?’ His fingers shifted under me, finding the folds of my pussy and brushing over them. ‘Am I too much for you?’
‘N-no.’ Excitement made me stutter as I shifted restlessly in his grip. ‘I can handle you. But I’m not sure you can handle me.’
He gave a low growl and suddenly I was being kissed—and kissed hard.
I shuddered with pleasure, winding my arms around his neck, holding on tight as his tongue pushed into my mouth, the dark addictive taste of him flooding through me. His kiss was raw, with an edge of danger to it that I found absolutely intoxicating.
Yes, God, this was what I wanted. What I needed. Not movies or books or calligraphy or astronomy, or any of the thousand things I’d spent the last fifteen years of my life using to fill the void inside me. The void I hadn’t even realised was there until Ajax had touched me. Let me cry. Let me explore. Made me aware of what I was missing.
Him. I’d been missing him.
I tried to kiss him back, but he was having none of it, wrenching his mouth from mine.
‘Ajax, please.’ Disappointment crowded in my throat. ‘I want—’
‘No.’ His voice was so rough it was almost unrecognisable, his gaze incandescent with blue fire. ‘We’ve done what you want. Now it’s time to do what I want.’
A couple of days ago he’d taken my virginity, let me make a choice and take my revenge. That night had been all about me.
Now he wanted it to be about him.
I could not wait.
‘Y-yes.’ Excitement burned in my blood. ‘Show me.’
He smiled, ferocious and predatory. Then, without a word, he turned and carried me to the edge of the pool and set me on the tiles. Gripping the edge, he pulled himself out in one fluid, immensely powerful movement.
My mouth dried, my heartbeat going into overdrive as I watched him.
He stood there for a second, dripping water, then he began to pull his wet clothes off, dropping them negligently on the ground. His body gleamed in the sunlight, slick with water, the ink of his amazing tattoos stark against his olive skin.
I’d never wanted to touch anything as badly as I wanted to touch him.
I got to my feet and stretched out my hands like he was a fire I wanted to warm myself against, but he took a long, loping step towards me, a wolf on the hunt.
Adrenaline rushed through my veins, my excitement electric.
Slowly, he began to stalk me and I let him, backing away in the direction he wanted me to go, towards the nearest sun lounger. Then, when the frame pressed against the back of my legs, he picked me up and sat down on it with me in his lap, both of us facing the pool, my spine against his broad chest, his hard cock pressing between my thighs.
I trembled at the feel of him, at all that heat and coiled power in the taut muscles beneath me.
His hands urged me to lie back against him, my head on his shoulder, and then he smoothed his palms down my arms to my hips. They rested there a moment before easing lower, to my knees, sliding inwards to grip my thighs and gently pull my legs apart, spreading them on either side of his. He bent his legs at the knee, widening them, so his knees were holding my thighs open.
The position was exposing, the slight stretch of the sensitive tissues of my sex so hot I could hardly breathe.
He stroked over my stomach, one hand grazing the sensitised flesh between my thighs, the other lazily toying with my nipple, pinching it lightly.
I groaned, arching into his hands, desperate for his touch. But it was too light. I wanted more, harder.
‘Ajax.’ His name was a prayer in my mouth. ‘Ajax, please.’
But he ignored me, turning his mouth into my hair and nuzzling against my ear. The press of his knees was hard against my thighs as his fingers stroked unhurriedly through my folds, getting me hot, getting me wet.
He pinched my nipple harder then found my clit with his other hand and pinched that too. ‘You’re mine, woman,’ he said roughly in my ear. ‘You want to play this game with me, then that makes you mine for the duration. And you do whatever I want, understand?’
Oh, yes, I understood. And I was totally on board.
‘Okay,’ I panted. ‘I’m fine with that. Just...more, please.’
His fingers spread possessively over my pussy and he pinched my nipple yet again, making me groan. ‘That’s not up to you.