Page 39 of Renegade
“Who owns your orgasms?” My breath is hot against her ear as I continue to tug on her nipple.
She’s pulling at the belt that holds her wrists, writhing against the restraints, but she’s not going anywhere. “You do.”
“Who does? Say my name,” I demand.
“You do, Walker.” Her voice is raw with need.
“I do what?” I want to hear her say it, just once.
“You own my orgasms.”
Okay, I lied. Once isn’t enough. “Say it again. Louder.”
“You own my orgasms!”
I press my fingertip lightly against her clit, and she jolts. “Again. Louder. And say it with my name this time.”
“You own my orgasms, Walker fucking Kinkaid!” She’s shouting now. “Please, for the love of God, let me come, or I swear I won’t be responsible for what I do to you when you finally let me go.”
God, I love this woman.
I yank the blindfold from her eyes. Tonight I want nothing left to her imagination. No images of Declan. No faceless man from her fantasies. I want her to seeme.
Green eyes stormy with lust stare into mine. “Make me come, Walker. The way that only you can,” she says throatily.
Fuck. I almost shoot my load right then and there.
I continue to rub her G-spot as her breathing becomes fast and shallow and the walls of her pussy contract around me. With a scream, she comes long and hard, fluid arcing out of her like it did last night. And I feel like a fucking god.
Before she can catch her breath, I move back between her legs, grasping her hips as I drag her down to my mouth, holding her thighs open as I close my mouth over her. She comes again—great, gasping waves racking her body as I hold my tongue firmly to that one magical spot. “That’s it, baby. Fuck my mouth.” I barely move, but her body bucks wildly and I ride out the storm with her, my mouth on her wet heat as she comes and comes and comes. The sweet taste of her desire flows onto my tongue, making my cock throb. But I’m still not satisfied. I want to destroy her with pleasure.
Her pleas are unintelligible now, and I get a perverse sense of pleasure from making her come again and again. In part, it’s knowing I’m the only one who can do it, but I also get a charge out of knowing it makes her vulnerable in a way she isn’t comfortable with, of pushing her limits.
Eventually I stop. I’ve lost track of how many times she’s come, and her body is like a rag doll’s. She’s spent. Her eyes are closed, her breathing ragged. I can see my teeth marks on her creamy thigh, and her sex above it glistens from my tongue and her arousal.
I unbuckle the belt and rub her arms briskly, making sure her circulation is flowing well, before pulling her into my arms. She instinctively curls into me. After a few minutes, her hand skims lazily across my chest.
I drag air into my lungs, willing my cock to settle down. Minutes tick by. Her hand wanders up to my jaw, and she rubs the scruff of my beard against her palm, smiling faintly. I smile back, brushing the hair away from her face.
“What are you thinking?” She’s looking up at me with those luminous green eyes that I could fucking drown in.
I want to make love to you.The thought is unbidden.
“Thank God. Me too.”
Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud? And did she just say she wanted it too? We can’t do this. Can we? “You said no sex,” I remind her. “You didn’t want it to be awkward between us.”
“I don’t.” She’s raking her nails lightly over my chest now, and my cock pulses. Her fingers move lower. “But it hasn’t been awkward yet. We’ve done…a lot. If things were going to get awkward, they probably already would have.”
She unbuttons my jeans and slips her hand into my boxer briefs. Her fingers close around my ramrod-stiff cock.
“That’s true.” It’s taking some effort to keep my voice steady. Her hand feels exquisite.
“And people do it all the time. I mean, that’s why friends with benefits is an actual thing, right?”
I want to give her space to talk this out. I want her to be sure. But I’m having a hell of a time keeping my hands off her.
Fuck. I can’t do it. Suddenly I need her lips more than I need air.
