Bring Me to Life : August Kert
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I turned in his arms. “And if I stay?”
His eyes were dark and filled with lust. “Care for you. Make happy.”
Could I push him now? “I can’t be happy if I’m living in a dirt pit, unable to see the sun and feel cool air when I need it. Unable to be free.” I touched my hand to his cheek. “And you can’t take care of me. Your friends won’t let you. One day I will become your dinner.”
He looked away. His jaw clenched, his hands fisted on my waist. I could almost see him fighting with himself about what to do with me.
One last push…
His gaze remained on something over to his side.
I took his hand and placed it on my breast. “You said you wanted to be reminded what it was like to be human. Feel me.”
He peered at me with wide eyes, lips parted, sweat already forming on his temples.
I had him.
I whispered, “Explore me.”
Anson swallowed the lump in his throat. He scanned my body, stopping at his palm on my breast. He swallowed again.
Just when I thought he was going to resist, he squeezed. I closed my eyes as a bolt shot down to my pussy. It throbbed for him. Anson massaged my breast until my nipple hardened under his grasp. He plucked it with his fingers and I moaned. For a man that had no clue what he was doing, he was doing a fucking good job.
“Like this?” he asked, his voice deep.
He trailed his hand up to my neck and tightened his grip around my throat. I reached for him, feeling his burning skin. He leaned in until his mouth was inches from me. I was sure that my pussy was soaked by now and I loved it. But I had to stop him from getting any closer.
I pushed lightly on his chest. “Watch your mouth.”
His hand went back to my breast where he toyed with me, squeezing, pulling, massaging. Stars danced around me. Anson’s other hand rubbed my belly. I groaned, surprising myself, but I didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not when my pussy ached for him.
When Anson slid his hand under the band of my pants again, I grabbed it and wrapped it around my waist. He raised a brow, but when I unbuttoned my pants and let them fall to the ground, he smiled. My need filled the air, and Anson took a deep breath.
“Shut up.” I sat on the ground. The concrete of the roof was cold on my skin, but I welcomed it as a contrast to my heated skin. Something had to cool me down or I’d come now.
Anson got to his knees. Hooking my fingers on the band of my panties, I slipped them over my thighs, down my legs, and off my feet.
“Beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.
It wasn’t what I’d expected from him, but damn, that one word made me shudder.
He unbuckled his jeans and let them fall to the ground. His erection could barely be contained by his boxers. My fingers itched to touch him, watch his face contort as I rubbed his length.
Anson slid his boxers down. His cock sprang free and I gasped. Long, thick, veins running his full shaft. And he’d called me beautiful.
I couldn’t stop myself from trailing my hand to my pussy. Feeling how wet my slit was, I smiled. My fingers teased my clit. I arched my back, wanting him to see what I was doing. What he made me do for him. His eyes were hooded. I slipped a finger inside myself and cried out. When my eyes met his, I became dizzy. For the first time since I’d met him, I saw the beast in Anson. The animal. I wasn’t afraid.
He took hold of his cock and slid his hand over his length. His eyes slammed shut. Seeing him masturbate had me panting his name. Anson opened his eyes and stared at my fingers pumping inside me. His pace met mine, and for a minute it was just us watching each other masturbate.
Anson reached out for me. I grabbed his hand and shook my head. “Not this.” I grasped my hand around his cock. “This.”
Rough Road- Vanessa North
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When we get into the cab, he pulls me practically into his lap. The welts on my ass burn in protest at being dragged across the seat, but I don’t care. Sometimes the souvenirs are even better than the beating itself. Squirming to chase that sensation a little more, I lean into him and kiss him, slow and deep, wrapping my arms around his neck and rubbing us together, chest to chest.
“God, I love this,” he whispers against my lips. “I could kiss you all night.”
Oh yeah, I could definitely be on board with that plan. I scoot even closer, throwing one leg across his lap so I can grind my hardening cock into his thigh. His hands sneak up under my shirt without any apparent destination, simply petting me, letting me feel the cool blast of air conditioning in contrast to the warmth of his palms.
I feel like a horny teenager, rutting in the backseat of the car, one hand on his chest, the other clutching the sizeable bulge in his pants. He slides a hand down the back of mine and squeezes, sending little starbursts of pain through me and making me squirm.
I lose myself in his kiss, let myself fly on the sensations of pain and arousal twining together. The gentleness of his hands on my ass sets a slow rhythm between us, as inevitable as waves lapping on the shore. By the time the cab pulls up in front of my house and I shove a handful of bills at the driver, I’m so turned on I can barely breathe—from kissing! We stumble from the cab to the house, still groping each other, and somehow I manage to get us inside without dropping my keys.
Wish shoves me up against the front door, wrapping his arms around my waist. I love that he’s the same height as me, that we can stare right into each other’s eyes while he tells me, “I want you, Eddie S-Class. You make me crazy with it. Can’t wait to get you naked, see every bit of your sexy skin. Want to leave marks on you you’ll feel for days. Want to make you cry. Want to make you come so hard you never forget me.”
I don’t tell him he’s already unforgettable. That ego of his doesn’t need any more stroking. I pull my clothes off and I’m reaching for his. He stops me, pushing my hand away.
“Shoes first,” he whispers.
I’m not a submissive. I don’t get turned on by following orders, and I sure-as-the-orgasm-he-promised-me don’t have a kink for being on my knees. But I want him naked, and the shoes do have to come off. I glare at him, and he stares back—how the fuck is he so calm?
“So take them off,” I growl.
“It doesn’t make you weak, taking care of another person.”
“I know that.”
“So why won’t you take off my shoes?”
“Why do you want me on my knees?” I counter. “I thought you weren’t into that Dom shit.”
“Why is your dick so fucking hard?” He slides his fingers down my shaft, cups my balls, and flicks behind them, hitting the ring back there with perfect accuracy.
I drop to my knees.
My face flushes with anger and resentment as I slip his feet from his shoes and roll his socks off. I thrust them aside and start to stand, but his hand, rough on my shoulder, holds me down. I scowl at his bare feet, seething with a frustration I can’t put into words. What gives this man the right to make me speechless?
He lets go of my shoulder, snatches my hair, and jerks my head up without warning.
“Fuck!” I shout, jumping to my feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He throws me back against the door, his hand still in my hair the only thing keeping me from bouncing right off the hard wood surface. Ah, fuck yeah.
We struggle for a moment, pushing, wrestling, grappling for advantage. A thrill shoots through me like electricity as I get a good grip on him. I haul him around by his clothes, shove him backward, and slam him against the entryway wall with a loud thunk.
He tosses his head back and laughs, then lunges for me again. This time, he gets a hand around my wrist and twists my arm behind me. I swing with my other arm, which he plucks from the air like he’s catching a ball, and I’m well and truly caught.
Arousal makes my limbs heavy, a rich warmth spreading through me. My heart races with the rush of the tussle, and I squirm against him one last time, grateful to feel his hard cock through his pants. The best part of wrestling with a lover is the point of acquiescence, that moment of being overpowered and knowing I’m going to get fucked.
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