She comes down slowly, with little tremors that claw at the threads of my self-control, until we draw apart and stand staring in the echo of my thundering heart. The door is still propped half-open by the chains piled at the threshold, the light from the hallway illuminating her wrecked curls and swollen, parted lips. Her shirt is torn from one shoulder, and her pants are askew, exposing the sharp curve of a hipbone and the creamy slope of her ass pressed against the wall.
She’s the most beautiful disaster I’ve ever seen, and my whole body aches to finish the work of her destruction, but I drag myself back from the brink and suck in a ragged breath.
Her gaze flicks from my face to the open door to the outline of my cock straining against my zipper, and then she gives me a slow smile that stops my fucking heart.
“Take your clothes off and go get on the bed,” I command, my voice so raw I hardly recognize it. For a second, her rebellion flares, but I don’t take my eyes off hers until she turns to obey. She drops her pants as she walks away, heading into the bedroom with a defiant wiggle of her ass.
With a groan, I move to the door, kicking the chains out of the way and letting it click shut. Leaning my head against the cool wood, I struggle to bring my breathing back under control, fighting a sudden wave of panic. After weeks of fantasizing, I actually have Gia Laurent in my bed, and my mind wants to go blank and terrified at all the ways I could fuck it up.
I’ve been with enough chicks looking for punishment to know that being an asshole does not automatically make me a good dom. You need to actually care about the person to do it right, and the emotions Gia stirs up are way too fucking complicated for me to untangle, let alone put to any use. And anyway, this is something different, so far beyond daddy issues and a praise kink, it’s bordering on dangerous. This girl doesn’t just want to be dominated; she’s begging for battle, and the reckless, hungry part of me that knows how to give it to her might end up destroying us both.
19
Gale
There are only four suites with a separate bedroom in the dorm, and I have one of them. When I enter, Gia is kneeling at the head of my bed, rifling through the nightstand like she belongs there. It’s hard to be pissed about it when her entire body is on display, lush and luminous in the neon Vegas light that filters through the curtains. I move quietly up alongside the bed and give her a smack across one ripe ass cheek. She startles back, eyes fierce.
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to go through other people’s shit without permission?”
“I was grabbing this.” She holds up a condom.
“Do we need it?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Aren’t you on birth control?” All the cirque girls I’ve known are on something to regulate their cycle, even if they’re not having sex.
“Yes, but—”
“Do you let pretty boy fuck you raw?”
“Not lately,” she snaps, but before I can unpack how I feel about that little confession, she adds, “But I trust him.”
“I thought we were working on our trust issues.” I could tell her Celeste has me tested every three months, even though I never go near her without a condom, but like hell I’m bringing that name into this room tonight.
“Are you saying I should trust you?” A doubtful look crosses her face.
“In general? Probably not. In this?” I lean over and graze her jaw with my teeth, fanning my breath across the curve of her ear. “Don’t you want to know what my bare cock feels like inside you?”
Her head falls back with a shiver, and I pluck the foil packet from her nerveless fingers and toss it back on the nightstand, dropping my mouth to her nipple.
She leans back on her elbows, and I climb up between her bent knees. There’s something devastatingly erotic about having her naked and vulnerable while I’m still wearing all my clothes, and I start gently, licking and sucking at the soft flesh, swirling my tongue around her nipples and tracing the freckles along her ribs with my fingertips. She sighs with pleasure, and I hum my approval into her skin, watching gooseflesh prickle in response.
Her knees fall open, and I trace a hand up the delicate line of muscle along her inner thigh, gathering moisture and smearing it into her nest of soft curls.
“Gale?” she moans, shifting under my hands. “More.”
I want to give her everything.
I want to take it all.
Her breasts spill between my fingers as I push them up and bring her nipples together, taking them both in my mouth at the same time. Every hitch and gasping breath sends a pulse of lust straight to my cock as I mark her with the bruising pressure of my hands and teeth. When she starts to whimper, I releasethe ravaged peaks and slide my tongue down her abs, pressing her into the bed and settling myself between her thighs.
She watches me descend, propped up on her elbows, and I blow softly into her curls.
“I lied tonight,” I tell her, planting a kiss in the crease where her thigh meets her cunt. “I told your pretty boy I’d already tasted you.” I move to the other side, and this time I bite. Her eyes are wide with betrayal, but her body leaks desire. “I’ve been thinking about it since the first time I saw you.” I drag my lip ring over her folds, teasing the top of her slit. “In my dreams, you taste like cinnamon.” I bury my nose in her curls and inhale her spicy scent, then flatten my tongue and run it up her center from her ass to her clit. A throaty curse escapes her, and she falls back into the pillows, her fists clutching at the bed.
Her taste explodes on my tongue, every bit as sinful as in my dreams, and I explore every silky swell and hollow before dipping my tongue inside her. When she comes, I press her thighs into the mattress and lap up every drop of nectar while she grinds against my face, my name on her lips and her hands in my hair. This time she doesn’t wait to recover, tugging me up her body with greedy hands, and I fall into her, feeding her the flavor of her own desire and grinding my tortured cock between her legs.
