Sweet Temptation

She was riding high on stress-induced adrenaline coupled with intense arousal. She was exhausted and revved up all at the same time, and she knew she would never rest until she found release. And yet she couldn’t ask. Couldn’t demand. She was his to command, not the other way around.

They walked inside, and Micah hesitated in the hallway.

“Want something to eat or drink?”

She nodded and he turned her toward the kitchen at the far end of the facility. It was warm and inviting, like the rest of The House. Rich browns, soothing yellows. It amused her that a place devoted to such decadence had all the comforts of an inviting home.

She caught Micah’s gaze and shivered under the blatant awareness that flashed in his eyes. His nostrils flared slightly, and the tension rolling through his body was a tangible, breathing entity.

She met his stare levelly, allowing every ounce of her need to reach across the distance. He set the glass of juice he’d poured for her on the counter and stepped forward, his eyes glittering.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

Her nipples hardened. Her clit pulsed and swelled, and her breath caught painfully in her throat. She forced herself to breathe out as she slowly turned, presenting her back to him.

His hands closed over her shoulders. One hand worked up, tangling in her hair then sliding the heavy veil over her left shoulder, baring the curve of her neck.

Warm breath blew sensuously over her bare skin and then his teeth nipped and grazed at the slim column. Her knees threatened to buckle when he laved his tongue up the side to her earlobe and over the frantic pulse point, but he caught her firmly and pushed her forward toward the table.

Urgency invaded his movements. He bumped her into the table, bending her over when her stomach met the edge. His fingers caught clumsily at her pants, pulling, reaching around to release her fly.

As he yanked her jeans down over the curve of her behind, his other hand pressed firmly in the center of her back, holding her down.

Cool air blew over her ass, raising chill bumps. He left the jeans at the bend of her knees. One hand still held her down, but the other left her, and she heard the rustle of his own pants.

His legs bumped into the backs of hers, and his body pressed into hers, hard and fast. The back of his hand brushed urgently against her buttocks as he positioned his cock.

Before she could take a breath, he was on her, in her, so deep she cried out in shock.

He leaned in, his body covering hers, his hips slamming against her ass, the resounding smack echoing sharply through the kitchen.

After the initial frenzy, he slowed, withdrawing then pumping forward with methodical, forceful thrusts. Each time he withdrew, he paused until she let out a small whimper and then he powered forward, driving deep.

“Hands up,” he said harshly.

She placed her hands above her head, palms down on the flat surface of the table. Her entire body shook with the force of his next thrust. She closed her eyes. She was close. So close to bursting and he hadn’t even touched her intimately.

He was only intent on his pleasure. His taking was selfish and primitive, and she knew in a flash of understanding why. He was reinforcing his earlier statement.

All I can offer you is fucking.

She relaxed, giving herself over to him. Surrender. Acceptance. No way would he find any resistance. Pleasure washed over her in waves. He reached deep, his cock stretching her, filling her.

His body pressed dominantly over hers, his hips arching into her ass. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling as he strained to go even deeper.

No, he wasn’t concerned with her pleasure at the moment. She could feel the torment radiating from him. He acted. Did the only thing he knew to do to try and rid himself of the same vicious need that riddled her. Only she knew it would never go away. Never die.

Her fingers flexed and then curled into tight balls. Her head came up as he pulled relentlessly at her hair. She gasped as her orgasm built. The pressure was achingly fierce. His balls slapped against her mound with every lunge.

“Micah!”

“Mine,” he hissed.

She let out a small whisper of pain as he pulled harder at her hair, but it was forgotten as the storm gathered. Lightning surged, gathering in her pussy, exploding outward and surging into her belly.

As soon as she cried out again, he ripped himself from her spasming pussy. He yanked at her hair, pulling her from the table.

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Clumsily, she slid down his body, her muscles weak from her orgasm. She caught herself by grasping his knees. Even as she settled herself, he strengthened his grip at the back of her neck and tilted her head up.

He grasped his turgid erection with his free hand and forced his way past her lips. She barely had time to gasp a breath before he filled her. Her cheeks puffed outward, and she forced herself to relax so she could accommodate him fully.