Sex Scene Championship Round 7 : Tessa Bailey Vs Kit Rocha

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We have 50 eBooks to giveaway (some of which are listed on the Intro post here), 2 signed paperbacks, 2 INT paperbacks, 4 Gift Cards (Amazon & All Romance, a necklace, some pens and more swag to give away.

So for our second round, we have the fabulous ladies Tessa Bailey and Kit Rocha … what a round!

Execerpt One –

Baiting the Maid of Honor – Tessa Bailey ©

“Know what I think, baby? You love making my cock hard. You’ve been living for it since that first night.” Reed leaned forward slightly, gaze riveted on her chest.  “I’ve been living for it, too. I’ve been stroking myself off to the memory of how you looked at me on that patio. Like you were a little nervous and a lot turned on. Did you go back to your seat in the fancy restaurant and cross your legs tighter than before? Were you planning on going back to your room later that night and imagining the big bad man touching your pussy?”

“Yes.”

Julie hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and tugged it down just enough that he could see the top of her silky teal-colored thong. The performance, her secret fantasy come to life, emboldened her. Made her want to shock him back. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and looked at him through hooded eyes. “If I had pleasured myself that night, Reed, you wouldn’t have been touching me with your hand. In my fantasy, you would have been deep, deep inside of me. Telling me what a bad thing I’d done.”

“What bad thing did you do, baby?” His voice sounded raw.

“When you showed up at the party, I might have gone to the bathroom and…hiked my skirt up a little higher for you. I knew you’d be watching me.”

“Sweet fucking hell.”

Julie let her skirt drop, leaving her in nothing but the minuscule panties. Reed’s loud groan caused any lingering self-consciousness to fade as Julie arched her back, bent her knees and ground her hips as low as she could go toward the ground. He let out a string of curses as she rose gradually, dancing erotically to the pounding beat of the music.

“Come closer, baby. Need you closer. Now, pixie.”

The desire in his voice tore at her own, sending it clamoring through her system. She needed to be closer, to touch, just as badly as he needed it. Still facing away from him, she gripped his knees and lowered her bottom onto his lap, gasping at the hardness she encountered. She switched her hips from a circular motion to a gentle front-to-back tease that allowed her to ride his length base to tip. “You like that, sugar?” she whispered, barely audible among the bass-heavy music.

“Enough teasing. Sit down all the way and work my cock with your beautiful ass. No more games.” He released a strangled growl against her neck. “I’m warning you right now, it’s going to be a rough ride. If you’re not ready for it yet, I’ll put you on your knees for a while to take my edge off.”

Julie’s heart pounded so loud, it felt like it might exit her chest. His words were pushing her past her breaking point. Words that should offend her, alarm her. Instead, she only wanted more. She wanted Reed’s brand of rough. Wanted to be the object of his lust, his reason for losing control.

When she slipped a hand underneath the waistband of her panties, his breathing grew even more labored. She found the bundle of nerves, aching for his touch, and circled her middle finger around it once. “I don’t want your edge off. I don’t want to be treated like a lady.” She tipped her head to the side, whimpering as his lips licked and sucked at her neck. “I want you to deliver on all the promises you’ve made. I want everything you’ve got.”

At once, he surged out of the chair with a growl, carrying her with him. He pushed her down over a smooth cedar bureau, bent over with her hips in the air, and yanked the panties down her legs. Julie looked at her reflection in the attached mirror, amazed at the woman staring back at her. She looked drugged, desperate, out of control. Such a departure from her usual unruffled composure. Behind her, Reed’s features were drawn together tightly as he ripped open a condom wrapper and rolled it down his thick length with jerky movements.

With one powerful drive, Reed finally entered her. The pressure was so great, so delicious, that Julie bit her lip and screamed, hands scrambling for purchase on the wood bureau top. Through partially blind eyes, she looked up at Reed’s reflection to find an expression of undiluted pleasure on his face. But it quickly transformed into a need for more, as he wrapped her hair around his fist and jerked it back.

“You will never dance like that again. You will never hike your skirt up again. Never.” He pulled out slightly, then thrust back into her hard. “Not unless it’s for me. Is that understood?”

Julie cried out. “Yes.”

His hand dropped to her shoulder. Drifted. He grazed his knuckles along the line of her throat and down, the back of his hand brushing one breast. “This is a bad idea. You deserve sweet. Gentle.”

He could be both, in his own way. “Other things, too. Hard and rough, if I want it.”

“Do you?”

“Honestly?” She slipped the button on his pants free and drew her fingertip over the bulge straining his zipper. “There isn’t much I don’t want from you.”

He hissed in a breath and froze with the back of his hand pressed against her stomach. “I told you, Trix. Anything. Name it, and I’ll do it.”

Metal clicked and rasped as she tugged at the zipper pull, slowly parting the teeth. “Let me?”

That made him move. He shuddered and plunged both hands into her hair, tilting her head back as he loomed over her. “I said you could have anything. It doesn’t have to be— You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He’d never understood how touching him could bring her pleasure. Hypocritical, when she’d seen the same sort of satisfaction light his eyes at her moans and cries.

The thought of watching him shudder with more than anticipation sparked breathless need. She dragged at the heavy denim until she bared his cock—proud, hard, straining toward her with a hunger that gave lie to his denials.

She wrapped her hand around the base, gasping when he thrust into her touch with a groan, then slid lower on the bed. Lower, until she could draw her tongue in a slow circle around the head of his cock.

“Trix.” His fingertips pressed hard on her scalp, hands trembling with restraint. “Jesus Christ, woman.”

She flicked her tongue against the spot beneath the crown, and his hips jerked in response.

He flexed his fingers, tugging lightly at her hair. “Look at me.”

She closed her lips around the tip of his cock before tilting her head just enough to meet his gaze without pulling away. He stared down at her, every beautiful muscle tensed as he rubbed small circles on the back of her head.

His fingers tightened. Hardly at all, but enough to guide her head forward, and he watched her lips inch up his shaft with dark hunger.

It could have felt like a demand, but Trix could see the truth burning in his eyes. This was acquiescence, not force.

Surrender.

She shivered and took him deeper, moaning when the movement yanked her hair taut in his grip. He bit off a curse and pulled harder, dragging her back. “Is this what you want? To suck me off?”

Yes. But that was too simple, not quite right, because what she really wanted was to give him everything he’d offered her. So she swallowed the answer and rose, shifting to her knees and stretching up to draw him into another kiss.

That trembling control inside him snapped.

He dropped his hands to her ass and hauled her up into a brutal, starving kiss. His teeth scraped her lower lip before closing in a harsh bite, taunting her with the vibration of his low growl. He hoisted her higher, off the bed entirely, only to bear her back down.

Her back thudded against the mattress and he pinned her there, his cock grinding between her legs, his hands tangling in her hair as he gripped the bed sheets and rocked. “Do you want this? Do you want me to fuck you?”

She arched beneath him, helpless to do anything but beg. “Please, Finn. No more waiting—”

He smothered her words with another tongue-tangling kiss. He hooked one hand under her thigh and lifted her leg, spreading it wide. “Tell me,” he demanded as his shaft slicked between her pussy lips, working her clit with tormenting friction. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Fuck—” Another flex of his hips sent a shock of pleasure racing up her spine, cutting off her words. “Fuck me.”

Every muscle in the arm next to her cheek flexed as he raised his body. He loomed above her, half of his face in shadow, half illuminated by the firelight.

He sought her gaze, held it. The fingers of his free hand brushed her pussy as he reached between them to grip his shaft. “Tell me how hard. Tell me how deep.”

She whispered the only two words that came to mind, words that contradicted her pleas. “Tease me.”

One smooth push and he was upright, standing above her with his hand still curled around his dick. “Roll over.”

She obeyed, and it wasn’t until she braced her elbows on the mattress that she caught sight of the mirror in the corner, across from the bed. “Finn…”

“Watch,” he whispered, smoothing one hand over her hip.

He pushed against her, and she looked down in time to see the blunt head of his cock spread her pussy wide. The sensation slammed into her a split second later, and she whimpered as she tried to rock back, to take him deeper, faster.

He stilled her with one iron hand on her hip. “Not like that. Watch in the mirror.”

She lifted her head, and her gaze clashed with his. She was vaguely aware of everything else reflected in the mirror—naked flesh and twisting ink, all gilded by firelight and darkened by shadow—but all she could really see was his face.

His eyes.

“Don’t move.” Quiet words, skating the edge of something wild. “I can’t fuck you slow if you move.”

She didn’t mean to, but sheer quaking need made her clench around him.

In the mirror, she watched his eyes close and his lips part. His hips rolled, driving him deeper, and then he was over her, the hot skin of his chest pressed to her back, one strong hand under her chin, tilting her head. “Tell me to stop,” he hissed against her ear, even as his body caged hers.

Never. She wrapped her fingers around his forearm, relishing the play of hard, tense muscle beneath his skin. He kept asking her what she wanted, telling her she could have anything—

“Give me this,” she whispered.

He did.

His next thrust was hard, forcing her to feel every inch of him. He muffled her shocked cry with his hand over her mouth, and Trix’s head swam, not because she couldn’t breathe, but because she couldn’t process the dichotomy of it all. How she could be caged but free, at the center of such a storm of need and yet still in control.

And she was. Even as he thrust into her again, twisting the tense pleasure in her belly with impossible speed, he watched her. Carefully, so carefully, and she knew that one hint of distress and he’d stop.

She clung to him instead.