Hostile Takeover by Hill, W (best novels to read for students .TXT) 📕

She didn’t need to worry. He would care for her, help her, even while demanding she comply, submit, yield to his intent to fuck her. But she still made a female noise of distress as he entered. The lube helped him slide into the opening, but there was so much of him to take. He braced himself over her then, one hand guiding his cock, his dress shirt pressed into her bare back. Reaching beneath her, he closed his other hand over her breast. She was right, it pressed into his palm just right, his fingers spreading over the curve. When he pinched her nipple around the barbell, her hips jerked up against him, taking him an inch deeper. She moaned, undulating in reaction as he stayed still but kept teasing her breast, squeezing and playing with the nipple. God, she was so sensitive around her piercings, and as she got more violent, so did he, pinching harder, tugging.

She didn’t recognize the sounds coming from her throat in rapid succession, because every touch brought something new from within her. Her hips were pumping, pushing, working against him. She realized he wasn’t moving at all. She was. Taking him deep, deeper. Burning, raging fire, but she could handle it, no matter that her eyes were watering. She could handle him. She belonged to him.

She was panting in distress, pressing her forehead hard into that mat. “Please…” She was begging, she didn’t know for what, but he did. His hand left her breast, slid up the slope of her belly. Her clit was already contracting when he hooked his finger in the ring, played with the beads, then tugged on it to pull back the hood. Brushing the calloused tip of his finger over that ultrasensitive bundle of nerve endings, he set off a rocket of sensation.

She screamed like a wild panther in the dead of night, being mounted in the dark by a rough and uncompromising male. He slid home, down to the hilt, his testicles pressed against her pussy, and she made another harsh cry, pleasure and distress at once.

“Hold me there, baby,” he murmured against her ear. “Just hold me. You can do it. Relax. Just rock with me.”

He was moving against her hips, but not to pull in or out. He held them fast together, moving their bodies in one smooth roll of motion, a soothing lift and fall like waves in the ocean. It created incremental adjustments of his cock in her ass, which felt wildly good in a concentrated, compressed way. Her pussy was so wet the fluid was sliding down her inner thighs. His testicles were against her labia, so she knew her arousal would mark his ball sac as well. He was still playing with that ring, teasing the beads, brushing his thumb more gently around her clit, keeping those waves of feeling rushing up into her lower belly, the precursor to a violent, overwhelming climax.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. He felt better than anything had ever felt. She wished he was as naked as she was, that she could feel every inch of bare flesh, but Ben kept control, she knew that. Kept his distance. Only this didn’t feel like distance. It felt like intimacy at a level she’d never expected. He was at the threshold of her soul, and she was terrified, realizing that as they progressed forward, if he did as she wanted, he’d be deep in that soul, leaving her no secrets, every part of her stripped bare for him. That was what he demanded. After he won it, he walked away.

She was his slave, but more than that, she’d always been his. She had to believe that, believe she would be different, no matter how many times women deluded themselves into thinking they would be the one to get into the heart of an emotionally closed, scarred man. Because Ben was exactly that. She’d realized it to a depth she suspected few others did, except maybe Matt. Or Jon, because Jon always knew things like that, whether you told him or not.

She had to get into Ben’s soul. She didn’t know how except like this, through utter surrender, something he’d won from countless women a hundred times before. Those women hadn’t given him their heart when they were teenagers though. She had, and she’d never gotten it back. He still had it, whether he knew it or not. That made her different.

“You’re going to come for me now.”

“Please…you…first. Master.” She was insane, because there was no way she could hold out a millisecond more.

He pinched her clit, tugged on that ring, began to rub her the wrong way with knowledgeable fingers, holding her climax out of reach. His voice, a growl against her ear, shivered over her nerve endings. “Address me correctly, or nothing is going to happen.”

“I…did.” She gritted her teeth. “Master.”

He could pull out, leave her there. He had enough will to do it. But she squeezed down on him with all she had, eliciting an expulsion of breath against her ear, another of those muttered oaths that gave her such ferocious satisfaction.

Wrapping his fingers in her hair, he jerked her head back. It was an implicit command to open her eyes, such that she was meeting his gaze full on. His eyes blazed like hellfire, his mouth set in an implacable line. “Three seconds, and I pull out, Marcie. I’ll slap ice on that hot cunt of yours until you’re writhing and begging from the agony of it, and you won’t come.”

“I want you more…than I want that.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. Something violent passed through him, something that almost lifted the hair on her neck, instinctive self-preservation. But when he spoke in that savage rumble, his tone was even. “Prove you can obey me. If you can’t do that, I give you nothing.”

He meant it, she could see he did. Once again she had to concede a battle for the hope