Larger Than Life by Alison Kent (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📕

between her breasts, feeling nothing of the metal, feeling her own arousal, feeling the need to make Spencer understand. "And right now? The only thing I'm feeling is you."

He pulled the brim of his ball cap lower, watched her play the knife over her body. "This isn't funny."

"That's probably why no one is laughing." She drew the knife tip over the slope of one breast then the other. Her nipples were large and hard and visible beneath the sheer mesh cups of her bra—and all she could think about was what had happened to her that night.

About that knife, not this one. The one they'd used on her, the one that had cut her, the one she had feared would end her life, and her hand began to shake. She let the blade fall to the floor, shuddering as she reached for the front clasp of her bra instead.

The moment her breasts spilled free, Spencer's nostrils flared and she reached out to cup him. She licked her lips, stepped close enough to rub herself over his chest. "I want to see you. I want you to take all this good stuff out of your pants."

A desperate groan rolled through his body, but he frowned as she reached for his buckle and zipper. "What are you doing, Candy?"

"I'm going to give you what you've been asking for. I'm going to let you in on all my deep dark secrets." She had to do this, to tell him, to drive him away before she fell in love and he left her. Hurt her. She couldn't take any more hurt.

She reached into his briefs, her wrist tickled by the dark silky hair growing low on his belly, her hand teased by his smoothness and his heat, and lifted him free. He groaned. He hissed. He was rock-hard and oozing already.

She rubbed his tight mushroom head with her palm, stroked it over the skin of her stomach, leaving a trail of sticky moisture, loving the contrast of black against white. Then she tilted her hips forward to hold him against her and used a forearm to cradle her breasts.

"See these tiny nicks? Here around my nipples? They're not easy to see. You probably felt them when you sucked me, thinking they were part of the way I puckered in your mouth. But they're not. They're from the blade of a knife. One a man threatened me with when he raped me."

He gasped. "What? You were raped?"

She nodded, felt him shudder, felt him begin to soften. She didn't want his pity, didn't want him to hate her. Didn't want anything but to have him love her one last time before he went away, unable to look at her any longer without seeing the truth of her past.

She bent at the waist, sucked him into her mouth, took him to the back of her throat. She loved the texture of his cock, the polished head, the root that was thick and veined. With her free hand, she cupped his balls and gently squeezed, sliding a finger deep between his legs to tease him.

Once he was throbbing again, once he moaned like she'd hit the fast forward on his fantasies, she released him. And she stood, smiled, discarded her bra. "Be honest, Spencer. Tell me that I scare you. That I'm not the girl you thought I was. That I'm not the girl you want."

His eyes glittered, the look on his face all grown-up and wild. "I want you in ways I've never wanted you before. I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you, Candy. I want to be here for you."

He wasn't running away. Instead, he was hooked. She had him. The thought caused her knees to wobble, her hands to vibrate with tremors. "Oh, I'll take what I need, baby. And you'll get yours. But only if you do exactly what I say."

He couldn't agree quickly enough. "Anything."

"Take off your belt." She almost lost her nerve. The words didn't want to come. "Tie my hands behind my back."

She watched the tick of his pulse at his temple, felt sweat blossom in the small of her back. The juice from her pussy ran down her thighs. She couldn't believe how wet she was, how horny, how scared.

But she needed this too much to back out now. It was a cleansing, a purification, an exorcism. And she needed it from Spencer Munroe. She turned around, crossed her wrists and waited ... It had been so long ago, edges were fuzzy, details hazy, but she remembered the parts that counted.

Things like the fact that no one had used a condom that night. Her soon-to-be stepfather certainly hadn't. He'd bent her over the hood of his car and made her wait while he'd finished his beer. Just left her there, her ass in the air, like a trophy.

The same way Spencer was leaving her now. She pulled in a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

He blinked, shook his head, then backed a step away. "I'm not doing this. No way."

She felt her eyes widen, felt like a wild animal, her nostrils flaring to search out his scent. "You said you'd do anything I told you to do."

"Yeah, but not—"

"Do it," she demanded, her voice quivering. Her nipples tightened as she spun to face him.

He pulled away, looked into her eyes. His battle with arousal and confusion rivaled hers with arousal and fear. After this, she knew he'd never want to see her again.

Except then he reached for her as if he never wanted to let her go. Instead of treating her like the whore she'd been called that night, he slid a hand behind her neck, cupped her cheek with the other, and pulled her close. "I'm not going to tie you up when it's not about pleasure, Candy. You mean too much to me for that."

"Who said it's not about pleasure?" she asked, looking away, looking down, looking anywhere but