Natural Law(31)

She hummed, sighed, made small noises in the back of her throat that became more urgent as he used the cleverness of his mouth to bring her nipples to painful turgid arousal. She shifted, taking her breasts from his mouth to reach over, flip open the elegant hinged top of a wooden carved box on top of the commode. Condoms. Tyler had thought of everything for his guests.

Like a water sprite caressing him, her hand found him again beneath the water. He fisted his hands on the rim of the tub, wanting so badly to touch her he felt like he had to crack the tile beneath his grip to balance the desire.

It was a different type of hunger. Two hours ago, it would have had a bright, needy edge. Now it was a deep-inside, gut-aching need, something that involved his heart as much as his loins.

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As her fingers rolled the condom down on his cock, she followed right behind, her pussy sliding down his length, a tight, wet sheath so incredibly welcome that his hips surged up to impale her, unbalancing her with the force of his penetration. She caught onto his shoulders and cried out as the uncontrolled descent lodged him deep inside her small, tight glove.

“You okay?” He froze, torn between anxiety and a raging desire to keep thrusting, bounce her on his loins until the craving in his belly eased, though he suspected with Violet it would never ease.

“You’re a lot to take at once,” she gasped. “Give me a second.”

“All the time you need.” Though his arms were trembling, his thighs quivering with restrained power as she shifted, making some adjustments, torturing him. Teasing him. She rose up, sliding up his length, then lowered herself again, stroking him. “Stay still,” she murmured. “This is too good to rush. You’re too good to rush. I want to fuck you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sugar.”

She smiled, kissed his mouth, held her lips there as her body rose and fell.

“Touch you,” he muttered. “Let me touch you.”

“Yes. God, yes.”

His hands skimmed her arms, down the line of her ribs, his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts before he settled at her waist, then lower, gripping her hips, taking her into a line of strong, deep strokes that could please them both, drive them both.

The balance of power shifted. It took a moment before it registered, that she’d stopped using the strength of her own muscles and was just hanging on. She had let him take the reins, to drive them both to the edge.

“You feel so good.”

Inane words, no poetry, but it was all he could manage with need tearing at his insides. No woman had ever felt so good, and somehow he knew that no woman’s pussy would ever feel as good, as right as Violet’s. It was terrifying, the realization that he’d suddenly found everything that could mean home, without knowing how long he’d be welcome there.

Her lips were a distracted smile and he wanted to make her insane, wanted her to lose all control, now that she’d chosen to give him some of it. He wanted to do things that gave her no choice but abandon everything to him, let him pleasure her, take care of her, now and forever.

He tightened his hands on her hips, held her still so he could ever-so-gently close his mouth on her left nipple, run his tongue around it, pull on it with easy tugs that he knew would get exponentially more intense as he kept it up and held her still on his cock.

“Mac,” she whispered.

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Her plea was the music that the soul could hear at sunrise, if the mind was still enough to hear it. Completely wrapped up inside and all around her, he let the desperate rasp of her breath and the convulsive clutch of her fingers on his shoulders guide him as he kept up the suckling caress. He heard her cry his name, felt the glory of her pussy squeeze his cock, struggling to pull him deeper, to get him to thrust into her.

He eased his grip, and began to move her again, but making it more gentle, slow, languorous strokes that widened her eyes, made her nipples tighten even further, her breasts swell before his eyes as he stoked her fires, bringing wet heat to a boiling tempest around him, mirrored by the wake in the tub, matching the lapping noises he made now at her breast as he brought her close with one arm curled high on her back, his other banding her hips, unleashing his strength in ways that were devastatingly controlled, making her his with every long, heated stroke.

“Mac,” she gasped again, “Please—”

“Let it build, sugar,” he urged, his mouth tasting as much of her as he could, teeth nipping, drawing her in deep. He felt her contract on him, felt the shudder as she fought it. He went still, watching in wonder as she hovered on that precipice, keeping her there by not moving, not letting her move. It was like capturing a dolphin in mid-air, sleek and perfect, heartbreakingly beautiful. So alive that she seemed to give life to everything around her.

“Mac,” she gasped, “Damn it. Now. Move now.”

Her mouth was open, drawing in air, her face rigid with the intensity of her pleasure and focus, and so he let the moment go, let them both go, stroking hard into her. Her pussy clenched around him like the fists she clenched on his shoulders now, her nails digging into him, marking him as hers. He used his strength to serve her relentlessly, stroking deep and fast, proving his power and devotion to her, driving her higher.

“Mac…oh, God…” Reason left and the power of the climax took over, her body undulating on his, breasts quivering with each rise and fall of her torso, pale skin slick with water so that light flashed over her as she moved.

“Scream for me, Mistress,” he urged.

Almost as the words left his lips, the cry burst from her lips. Her eyes reflected that beautiful moment between ecstasy and panic, when everything became about one thing, every function of the body focused on experiencing and surviving a force that seemed too powerful to be survived.

Her hands scrabbled, found his hair and latched on, a painful tugging he relished.

He knew by now that she liked to pull hair, bite and claw, his little Mistress, and she sank her tiny fangs into the top of his ear. He growled in response, then groaned, long and primal, as his cock did the impossible and gave up more seed to her than he thought he had left. He wished it were not hampered by the condom, wished he could make her feel the hot stream of his need, but it was the only mar on a moment of 110



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Paradise, like the imperfection on the perfection of an original Persian rug woven by the finest artists.

She rode him through her aftershocks, whispered to him, demanded that he make her keep feeling it, fuck her harder, and he did. Tyler had had the tub built inside a sunken tile area with additional discreet drains to take away the water that now furled and rolled out of the Jacuzzi, drops sparkling in the candlelight.

She lost purchase on his shoulders and fell against him, letting him press his face into the valley of her sweet breasts, feel the quiver of her curves against him.

“Oh, God. Oh, darling. Darling, darling…” Her lips pulled into a smile against his face, and he turned his head to capture them, locked her tight in his arms, holding her so close he thought he could have wrapped his arms around her twice if it was anatomically possible.

Holding onto him with one hand for support, she lifted her upper body and the free hand to show him what she held in it. A silver, black and white ribbon of his hair was wrapped around her wet fingers. She made a rueful face. “Sorry.” He kissed her palm, closed her fingers over the strands. “They’re yours. Like every other piece of me you want. I’m all yours, Mistress.” 111



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Chapter 13


“I want to take us a little off the beaten path on the way home,” she told him. “Take the turnoff to Lilesville up here. I have a gift certificate to use and you’re going to help me spend it.”

“Nope. Female shopping is definitely a boundary. Way too cruel a punishment.”

“Jerk,” she punched his arm. “You’ll like this. It’s a sex shop.” She wouldn’t give him further explanation, so when they pulled off the scenic rural route and drove up to the quaint rambling house that had been attractively landscaped for its purpose as a retail venue, Mac raised a brow at the “For Hers” sign. “I’ve been conned. This is one of those women’s boutiques.”

“It’s a woman’s sensuality shop,” she corrected. “For Hers sells sexy things that turn women on, and the owner sells it in a way that women feel comfortable shopping for it.

Erotic, not pornographic. I know him, Justin Herne. See, there he is now.” Mac saw the tall man come to the door, well-dressed in slacks and tailored shirt. He had a lean, muscular build and his brown hair was pulled back in a sleek tail, emphasizing the precise perfection of his features.

“And just how do you know him?”

She slanted him a mischievous glance. “He’s something to look at, isn’t he? He’s my friend Sarah’s husband. Newlyweds, in fact. I did Sarah a favor that helped bring them together. As a result, Justin gave me this very generous gift certificate.” She pulled it from her purse, laid it in his hand. “Which I want you to go in and use.” Surprised, he glanced down at the five hundred dollar certificate. “Must have been some favor.”

“A story I’ll tell you on the trip home. I got all the intimate details, and I promise hearing them will get you hard as a rock.” Her hand wandered over his leg and his cock stirred.