Working Stiff:Casimir (Runaway Billionaires #1)(54)

Didn't the Dutch national sports teams wear orange? She seemed to  remember from the last Olympics, that the Dutch team had worn glowing,  neon orange.

Rox fell back, breathing hard.

The warmth of his mouth traveled up the inside of her leg, blowing humid  warmth over her skin and making her thigh quiver when he reached  halfway.

He nipped her then, a quick clip with his teeth that stung, and then he soothed her skin with his tongue.

Rox anticipated each tortuous lick and sucking kiss as his mouth  ascended her leg. He pressed his hand to her other thigh, opening her  legs farther, and the warm air cooled the damp skin between her legs.

The warmth of his mouth crawled up her thigh and over the softness at  the top, and he tongued the crease between her thigh and folds before he  settled his mouth on her and started with a slow lick that took forever  to rub over her clit.

Rox clutched the ropes on her wrists lest she fly off the bench.

He pressed his lips on her, using his tongue and lips like a long,  deeply penetrating French kiss. Her body trembled, every second a  torture as she edged closer to orgasm. She pushed with her heels,  lifting her hips, and he slid his hands under her ass and tongued her  harder, dipping inside her and laving over every sensitive nub and spot,  all of them.

The iron loops dug into Rox's fingers as she held on, her breath trapped  in her chest. Her body spun, spiraled more tightly as the pleasure  wound around her and strangled her. She gasped for air, but her lungs  were straining, almost there.

Cold.

Nothing and cold.

Nothing.

She screamed through clenched teeth.

His mouth had left her clit, and Cash crawled up her body. He had taken  his pants off at some point. A small part of her mind was impressed by  his multi-tasking, but she was too dazed from the sudden lack of his  mouth on her clit to think. "Wha-"

His cock lay on her stomach, heavy and so long, while she panted. Her body thrummed with near-release.

"Please," she whispered.

He growled, "I want to make you come with my mouth, but I am greedy. I  want to feel you clench around my cock. I want you to pant my name into  my mouth. I want to feel your body in my arms as you twist, helpless."

Helpless.

"Please," she whispered, nearly exhausted. A drop of sweat near her  hairline ran past her ear and dropped off her jaw, and more sweat like  raindrops gathered on her chest and stomach.

He stepped back-yes, he had to actually step back-and ran the thick head  of his cock through her folds. Her skin was so tender from his hand and  his mouth that she arched just with that, just with him rubbing her a  little more. He bent over her, kissing her chest and breasts softly,  while he pressed himself into her.

As he filled her-oh so slowly-she squeezed her eyes shut and cried out,  not in pain, but because it was all so much, too much. She wanted to beg  him to take her hard, to finally break her and let her come, but she  was so swollen that he had to carefully, slowly, force his way into her.                       
       
           



       

Finally, just as Rox thought that she would crack open or come hard just  from his insidious invasion of her body, his hips pushed against her  body. He groaned and laid his forehead on her sternum, panting,  "Roxanne."

"Cash," she whispered, her hands twisting in the ropes, "please."

His body moved in hers, slowly pumping into her, rubbing her clit at the  top of each stroke. She was so near that every languid slide into her  rubbed the inside of her all the way to the top, and she was throbbing,  tightening again, so close again.

Still moving in her, he slid his hands up her arms, sliding on her slick skin, and held her wrists against the iron bars.

The trembling climbed inside her, her desperation for the orgasm slamming into the fear of the helplessness.

He held her down with his hands and his body and the ropes and moved  inside her, and she couldn't move, couldn't touch him, couldn't breathe  with wanting him to slam into her and yet the world was turning black  around her.

Every movement of his body was nearly sending her over the edge but it  felt like a threat, like he was almost hurting her, almost ripping her  apart.

"Sub modo!" she cried out. "I can't do this. I can't do this!"

He flipped his hands around her wrists, ripping the ropes off her hands  and switching his arms under her waist to reach the other one. He  whispered, "It's okay. I've got you. I've got you. You're okay."

She curled up and grabbed his neck. "You're going to hurt me. I don't want you to hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you." He released her ankles with one tug on each  rope and cradled her to his chest. His cock was still deep inside her.  "I was never going to hurt you."

"Yes, you are."

He rubbed his hands down her spine and whispered, "Do you want to stop?"

Tension chained her, tight around her waist and between her legs, and  she ground her body against him, so close to her release. "Please, don't  stop. Just don't hurt me. Don't hurt me."

He leaned her back, one arm cinched around her waist, and stroked up into her.

A sound rumbled deep in Rox's throat, and she lifted her hips, trying to  fit herself farther over him, almost screaming her frustration.

He pushed deeper into her, and his body rubbed her clit, sending a pulse  through her. She gasped and gripped him as he ground against her.

Cash growled, "I would never hurt you."

Her head spun, full of whirling passion and light. Her teeth grated in  her mouth as her body clenched, so close, so very close. "You will," she  whispered. "You're going to hurt me so much. I can't bear it."

"I won't."

She whimpered and sucked in a breath while he stroked into her. "This is  all fun and games to you, but it's my heart. You're going to break my  heart, and I won't be able to bear it."

He thrust up into her, shoving his body against her as her mind and body tensed down to an unbearable point of light.

One more hard thrust up into her.

And Rox crashed open.

She cried out, hanging onto him, as earthquakes shuddered through her, shaking her from her body to her mind.

She might have died except for Cash's strong arms holding her together,  and she clung to him as she slowly drifted inward and opened her eyes.

"I would never hurt you," he whispered. His arms were iron bands around her.

She laid her head on his shoulder and clung to him. "I know that you say that to all the girls."





ARTHUR, THE UNLIKELY VOICE OF REASON





Casimir's heart was bleeding.

He knew what bleeding felt like, that cold wetness of seeping life. He  had felt it too many times, and his heart ached with every thump in his  chest.

Afterward, Rox had been limp in his arms, just like he had envisioned  but for all the wrong reasons. Tears had streaked her face, and he had  been sliced to his core.

He had carried her to the little bathroom off of the main playroom and  washed her in the shower. After he had dressed her, he had brushed her  hair to make her presentable.

Even so, Rox had felt like a broken doll in his hands.

He never should have brought her to The Devilhouse. He hadn't realized  that she was so emotionally fragile. He had known only resilient,  resourceful Rox from his office, from all their escapades and escapes,  and hadn't understood that woman wasn't who Rox was.

She was the woman who would go out and buy a fake wedding ring set  rather than allow her heart to be broken because it would shatter her.

He held her close in the car on the way to the airport, stroking her  hair and murmuring nonsense, while Arthur prattled on about the romantic  comedy movie he had watched, repeating some of the funniest lines.                       
       
           



       

At the airport, Casimir led Rox into the private terminal, where the  starlit night loomed outside the wall of glass that faced the tarmac. A  slender jet sped down the runway outside, lights shining into the dark,  and lifted its nose as if scenting the air.

Casimir settled Rox in a cloud of an upholstered chair and asked  Maxence, who had been riding with his entourage behind them, to sit with  her while he spoke to Arthur for a moment.

Maxence gingerly lowered himself into the chair next to hers and, with  only the briefest of concerned glances up at Casimir, spoke to her about  a concert that he had seen in Paris the year before.

Rox held her head in her hands, her fingers threaded into her hair, and nodded when she should.

Arthur followed Casimir away from them.

When they were far enough away, Casimir turned and said, "I need a favor."

Arthur looked back at where Maxence was gently, kindly talking to Rox. "What the hell did you do to that poor girl?"

Casimir stuffed one hand in his pocket and stared at the ground. "I  stayed within her stated hard limits, even her soft ones. I didn't  realize some other things that were going on."