The Dare Collection June 2019. Rachael Stewart

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СКАЧАТЬ untended breast and caught the tight peak between his thumb and forefinger.

      And the real magic began.

      He teased and licked and tortured until my heart threatened to beat itself into exhaustion. My fingers were digging into the delicate fabric of the chaise and I didn’t even care. With my body exposed so blatantly to him, letting him feast on me fed my pleasure in a way I’d never imagined. Perhaps it was the room and the fantasy.

      No. It was all of that plus this man who was delivering the kind of pleasure I’d never known with any other. He bit down on one nipple, causing the tiniest explosion between my thighs.

      ‘Oh, God.’

      Hazel eyes blazed with ferocious intent as he blatantly absorbed my pleasure, his tongue flicking in rapid succession over my heated flesh. ‘Good?’

      My head bobbed eagerly. ‘Yes. More.’

      A very satisfied, very male smile tugged at his lips and he delivered pleasure for another minute before withdrawing.

      Sitting back on his heels, he curled his fingers into my French knickers and dragged them down my thighs. His gaze latched onto the trimmed hair between my legs, then darted up to my face as he tossed the panties over his shoulder. ‘Are you glad I came, Neve?’

      I opened my mouth to deliver a flippant answer but only one unguarded word emerged. ‘Yes,’ I confessed raggedly.

      His answering smile was filled with poignant pleasure, then his expression grew serious. ‘Before this goes any further, I have a condition of my own.’

      Again my challenging response fell apart before I could utter it. ‘Okay.’

      ‘This isn’t a one-way thing. I expect you to play a role in my set-up when the time comes.’

      My heart skipped several foolish beats despite my self-admonition for common sense.

      ‘Agreed?’ he insisted.

      The anticipation of reliving this again, of sex with Damian in the near future, filled me with a kind of dangerous pleasure I didn’t want to admit. ‘Agreed,’ I replied before I could stop myself.

      It would be another opportunity to teach him a lesson, I told myself.

      Satisfaction blazed in his gaze before it dropped to my wet, throbbing pussy. Immediately the feverish hunger returned. ‘I’ve craved another taste of you since last night. It’s been driving me fucking insane,’ he muttered thickly, almost to himself.

      Need seared every cell in my body. ‘Then what are you waiting for?’

      He gripped my thighs, pushed them roughly apart and dropped his head to my heated core. A cry ripped from my throat as his firm mouth latched onto my clit.

      No longer capable of keeping my hands away, I speared my fingers in his hair, my nails grazing his scalp as I held him in place.

      I was terrified of what he was doing to me and terrified that he would stop. Damian toyed with my clit for mindless minutes, then sucked the swollen nub into his mouth. Over and over, he rolled it between his teeth and tongue, tortured me until I was on the brink of insanity.

      Heat gathered in my pelvis. Tingles danced up and down my spine. I sucked in a deep breath, ready to let go. But then, he eased away.

      ‘Don’t stop,’ I cried urgently.

      ‘Just for a minute, darling.’

      God. ‘No,’ I insisted, my fingers tightening in his hair.

      Firm fingers pried mine free, and, with casual strength that robbed me of what little breath I had, he flipped our positions, draped me over him, and let loose a wicked smile.

      ‘Judging by the decor of this room you get off on decadence. Don’t you, my dirty little thing?’

      I couldn’t stop myself from blushing. ‘Damian...’

      His fingers brushed my mouth. ‘Tell me what will get you off harder than me kneeling between your thighs. We can do that if you want but I get the feeling that’s a little too conventional for you tonight.’

      As if his invitation had opened a door, searing hot fantasies exploded in my brain. Fantasies I’d craved while reading my favourite erotic romances but had never given in to crowded my mind and delivered sizzling anticipation to my pussy. I could set them free now.

      And why not?

      Two years ago he used me. It was my turn to use him.

      I ignored the guilty little catch in my chest as his hand tightened insistently on my waist. ‘Qu’est-ce que tu veux, mademoiselle?’ he demanded gruffly.

      I gasped, my pussy getting unbelievably wetter. ‘You speak French?’

      ‘Parfaitment,’ he replied, his accent flawless.

      I hadn’t imagined I could be more turned on a second ago but he’d just achieved the impossible.

      Thrilled with his avid, almost worshipful gaze, I braced one hand on the top of the seat and swung my leg over him to rest my knee beside his head.

      Exposed to him, I expected to feel a little vulnerable, a lot self-conscious. But Damian’s thick, ragged groan infused me with more feminine power, although I almost disgraced myself by climaxing at the image of my pussy hovering three inches above his succulent lips.

      ‘Is this what you want, Neve? To sit on my face?’ he asked gutturally.

      ‘Yes. Oui,’ I breathed.

      Rough hands clamped onto my thighs. ‘Hold on tight,’ he advised, then drew me down to meet his lips.

      In a flash I was back at breaking point, this time with my arousal sharpened by a secret fantasy brought to life and at the point of fulfilment.

      Wracked in pleasure, I threw my head back and flagrantly rode Damian’s lips. His groans grew thicker and more urgent as I soared towards my climax.

      ‘Look at me, Neve,’ he instructed gruffly.

      Heart hammering, I met his turbulent hazel gaze, and, amazingly, that searing connection tossed another layer of pleasure onto the already blazing fire, as I watched Damian eat my pussy with unfettered eagerness, his growls of pleasure shoving me over the edge.

      With a scream, I tumbled headlong into orgasm. White-hot stars exploded across my vision, my body gripped with uncontrollable shudders as I came with a force I’d never known before.

      I was vaguely aware that he was supporting my weight as I helplessly convulsed above him. At some point, my back reconnected with the chaise and gentle kisses drifted over my face even as a litany of French words drifted over me.

       Dear God, Damian Mortimer speaks French.

      I should’ve been disgusted by the man’s accomplishments but he’d just given me my best orgasm yet. Complaining felt petty.

      Still СКАЧАТЬ