10 Aug '15

#SSceneC2015 : Tessa Bailey @mstessabailey vs Rebecca Grace Allen @rgraceallen #NSFW

Posted in Sex Scene 2015 / 1 Comment

cooltext129748819578231Off Base : Tessa Bailey
Author Links : Website | Twitter
Buy Links : Amazon |  B&N

“I don’t lay hands on women,” he said, voice like gravel.

Exulting in the privilege of being the one to correct his misconception, give him the extra push, Kenna flattened her palms on the table, bent forward and tilted her hips. As if he had no control over his actions, Beck dragged his hard cock up and down the valley of her bottom, making her moan. “This is for my pleasure, Beck.” She tossed her hair, meeting his tortured gaze over her shoulder. “Don’t you want to give me pleasure?”

“Yes. Constantly.”

“Then take yours and watch me find mine, too.”

She leaned down and pressed her cheek to the cool leather, her face turned so she could watch him in the mirror. His barrel chest shuddered once, twice, his right hand lifting and flexing in the air. Finally, as if the final barrier had crumbled, his huge hand landed on her backside with a satisfying slap. “Oh, God,” she breathed, the flesh between her legs tightening like a fist. Beck’s erection bulged against her backside, telling her without words how affected he’d been. Her vision cleared and she saw him in the mirror, watching her with a mixture of concern and arousal. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, the muscles in his arms straining beneath his skin. Fuck hot. “That made me feel so good, Beck.” She licked the saltiness from her lips. “Did you like it?”

“Too much.” His voice had dropped to such a deep pitch, it set off a dark, dangerous throb beneath her belly button. “I’m not sure about the things it made me feel…the things I want to do.”

Kenna started to remind him nothing they did was wrong, but his hand colliding with her still-damp backside had her gasping instead.

“I know what you’re going to say. That nothing between us is wrong,” he grated, smacking her buttocks with increased force. “What if I want it to feel a little wrong, darlin’. What then?”

Turned on to a level she’d never encountered, it became difficult to get air into her lungs. Was that her making the table shake? “It’ll only be wrong if you stop.”

In the space of two seconds, he’d fisted his erection, guided the thick head to her entrance and plunged every merciless inch inside her, roaring as he went. Kenna screamed into the table’s leather surface but was cut off when he started to drive himself home, again and again. The buildup had been so great, the anticipation so intense, an orgasm stripped her from the inside out. It seemed never ending, bolstered by Beck filling her to capacity with each thrust. The table rocked beneath her, its wooden legs scraping on the ground, but Beck grabbed it by the sides and held it still, kept it from moving forward. Pinned. She was pinned at the hips by his swollen arousal and the knowledge was indescribable.

Kenna thought the force of Beck entering her couldn’t get any greater, but she was wrong. He used his white-knuckled grip on the table to jerk her—and the table—back, to meet his drives. Scrape, scrape, scrape. She became part of the heavy piece of furniture, bent over its edge, existing to service him. Behind her, Beck growled, the sound mingling with the scrape of wood on tile. “You need this, don’t you, Kenna? Need my cock to be the only one that gets you from now on?” He moved faster. Faster. “That’s what I need.”

Her muffled reply got lost in the sound of wet flesh connecting. She had no idea what her response had been, anyway. Didn’t care. Could only concentrate on the pleasure teasing her loins, getting ready to go off like a camera flash. Almost there. Almost there.

Abruptly, Beck ceased his tireless drives, removing one hand from the table to reach between her legs. “You need me to touch you here, don’t you? I’m a fast learner, Kenna.” The callused pads of his fingers dragged over her clit, then circled, his hips delivering deliberate, slow thrusts. “I watched every move you made our first night. I know you like when I use my size against you. When I bounce you up and down like a little doll.” His fingers moved faster, rougher. “And now I know a good slap on your perked-up ass gets you the wettest of all, don’t I?”

To emphasize his point, he pulled out until only the tip of his arousal remained inside her, then slammed back inside, demanding an answer. “Yes!

“I know everything you need. Everything.” His chest aligned with her back, pressing her down into the leather table, his stubble rasping over her ear. “I’m your daddy now, Kenna.”

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Hierarchy of Needs : Rebecca Grace Allen
Author Links : Website | Twitter | Facebook
Buy Links : Amazon US | Amazon UK | B&N

“Too many clothes,” he snarled. “You’re wearing too many fucking clothes.”

“I like my clothes.”

Snarky words, but she was panting despite them. Dean skimmed the bottom of her sweater up her sides, pushing the fabric over her head.

“I like them too. But I’ll like them better off you.” He yanked off his shirt, tossed it to

the ground and growled, “Shoes.”

Jamie complied, eagerly kicking them off. Dean’s brain buzzed as he stepped out of his boots, everything she’d told him about her severed dreams settling into a low hum like a rattling engine in his thoughts. He hoped she’d be able to find a way out of the life she’d let herself get tangled in. That someday she’d get everything she aspired for, and have that

exciting life down in New York City.

But not right now.

Right now, she was his.

He gripped her leggings and dragged them down, some kind of caveman, testosterone-filled urge taking over him, wanting to prove she wouldn’t be able to “get him out of her system”. That two nights with him would only make her want him more. He knew he shouldn’t want that, because he refused to trap her any more than she’d already trapped herself, but God, he couldn’t help it.

Dean moved to stand, stopping short when he saw the scrap of fabric at the apex of her thighs: a triangle of sheer white, laced up like a corset and held together with a tiny bow.

“Jesus,” he breathed.

So this was what she’d been hiding from him. Thank fuck he hadn’t known about it, or he would’ve been hard all day. His brain registered that her bra matched too, but he couldn’t draw his eyes away from the mouth-watering sight in front of him.

Curling his hands around her hips, he brought his mouth to her cloth-covered slit. Her skin was smooth and soft beneath it, bare except for a tiny strip of hair. He kissed her fully, over and over, and she dropped her hands to clutch his hair. Dean closed his eyes and concentrated on the way she moved, how she tried to gather more of the sensation, body arching off the wall. Every reaction notched his need to epic proportions, but he held it in check. Making her come wasn’t enough. He wanted to take this glorious girl out of the corner she’d let herself get put in, and make her see herself the way he did.

He slid her panties down her legs, then stood and unclasped her bra. It landed in a pile with the rest of their clothes. He shucked his jeans and boxers, adding them to the mess, then finally kissed her.

Jamie clawed at his back, the pure hunger in her response jacking him up even higher. He palmed her thighs, hitching them up over his waist. She wrapped her legs around him, kissing him frantically as he walked them to the bed.

“How do you want it, Jamie?”

“I don’t care,” she said in between kisses. “Just take me.”

He dug fingers into her backside, reveling in her hiss. “How? Specifically.”

If tonight was going to be his last night with her, he was going to make it memorable.

She panted, cautious, then whispered, “From behind. Hard.”

Fuck.

He eased her down to the floor. “Bend over the bed.”

Jamie turned around, doing as she was told. Dean palmed his dick, unable to resist the urge to stroke at the sight of her ass on display. She looked over her shoulder, glanced at his slowly pumping fist and grinned.

He reached for a condom, quickly rolling it on. Another minute of that and this whole thing would be over before it even started. Dean nudged her legs apart with his knee, then bent down to kiss the divots above her bottom and mapped her spine with his tongue.

Her hips flexed. “Please.”

He ignored her plea and slipped his hands beneath her to cup her breasts, tweaking lightly at her nipples before sliding down lower. Teasing her flesh, he coaxed her open, thumbs light over her clit. She whined and pushed back against him. Groaned his name.

He loved how turned on she was, how hungry and restless. That was how he wanted her—this time anyway.

Next time, he’d let her take what she needed.

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