Transgressions by Carolyn Faulkner (the reading list txt) 📕

eyes. He didn't abandon his hold on her hands but stayed them in another manner, putting his own arms across hers so that she was just as trapped, but giving himself the ability to cup her face and kiss her, tenderly, reassuringly, at first, but then much less so as he could see that the fear had receded and he could no longer resist the dictates of his own flesh and quickened his pace.

He had wanted to watch her at the moment of her greatest pleasure, but he didn't have the mental capacity to do it; he was too lost in his own paradise, mindless with the need to fuck her. Not that he didn't feel her come around him—she bucked and writhed and arched up to him, granting him even deeper access to her body, which he immediately took advantage of with no compunction at all, her spasms prompting his, making him throw back his head and growl as he pumped himself into her.

Chapter 4

Enzo's face landed on the pillow next to her, and that was where it was going to stay for at least a moment or two, maybe longer. He wasn't at all sure he could have moved, even if Maury burst in the door to say that a turf war had broken out on his front lawn. He couldn't think, either, knowing he should have been doing something for her or to her, something that would help her know things she probably didn't want to know from him. Things he wasn't at all sure she should know. He wasn't much of a fan of making himself vulnerable, and she was still a rival. For now.

Eventually, he rolled to one side, keeping an arm over her until he'd settled himself on his side next to her and recovered a bit. Then the hand that had claimed her tummy moved down to the part of her he'd just claimed in the most elemental of ways. His middle finger had just begun to slip between her lips when her much smaller fingers wrapped around his wrist, doing their level best to stop him.

He stopped, because he was curious about just how far she'd go with this but didn't point out the fact that he knew she was already well aware of—that she couldn't stop him. She didn't have the strength, or she would certainly have put an end to the spanking she'd received earlier.

He didn't say anything but simply caught her eye and raised his eyebrows.

She scowled fiercely, and he thought she was going to earn herself another trip over his knee.

"One." It was a simple word, but he knew at her indignant gasp that she had caught on to what he was doing.

Less than a minute later came the deadly neutral, "Two."

Her grip tightened, and he thought the stubborn little minx was going to let him get to three, but then it relaxed and she removed her hand, seconds before the point of no return.

As soon as she'd released him, his finger attained its intended goal, resting atop her still enormously swollen clit and rubbing very lightly.

Ally wanted to snatch his hand away from her more than she wanted to do anything else in the world, but she also knew that she didn't want another spanking.

She couldn't take another one, considering the condition her poor rump was already in. She had no choice but to lie there and let him molest her as he watched her reactions intently, so much so that she had to close her eyes against him in the only act of defiance he would allow, it seemed.

He patiently and determinedly brought her to three more orgasms, something none of her other lovers had ever bothered to even try to do, and frankly, she had never bothered to ask. Most of them had just rolled over and gone to sleep once they'd gotten what they wanted.

At her last huge culmination, one that had her feeling dizzy and lightheaded, he pulled her back against him to spoon, with his heavy hand around her waist and his semi-hardness nestled against the small of her back.

"Sleep, beautiful. More to come—so to speak—in the morning, after we've both had a good rest."

Despite how exhausted she felt, Ally's mind had begun racing as it did sometimes after sex. Enzo was already breathing slowly and steadily behind her, but she was trying to think of how all of this worked out, and she couldn't see anything anywhere near resembling a happy ending between the two of them. It just wasn't done.

So, instead of falling asleep as she knew he expected she would, she kept all of her senses revved and bided her time until he rolled away from her in his sleep. She didn't leave, even then, though, because she knew he'd be in a lighter sleep for a few moments. She gave him fifteen minutes or so before she slipped out of his comfortable bed and away from his warm embrace to dress hurriedly, and pantiless—she'd left the wreck he'd made of them right where they'd landed when he'd thrown them away—walked to his nearest neighbor, whom she knew always kept a small skiff with an equally small outboard motor available at their private dock until it was nearly winter.

The Wellingtons wouldn't mind if she borrowed it, she knew, especially since she'd done it often enough while she was growing up and they'd never been the wiser—and they'd been in residence, then, too, whereas the house was dark now—not shuttered yet, because there still might be some nice weekend days when they'd come out to camp, but definitely not occupied.

Even so, out of habit, she rowed away from shore onto the darkened lake so as not to tip him off more than anyone else, only starting the motor when she was well out into the lake, then making a beeline for the lights of Mendleson's Marina, which she knew would be open for at least another month or two