Read Online Bare Knuckle: Vegas Top Guns, Book 5 by Katie Porter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katie Porter
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could be faking. He wouldn’t put it past a girl in her situation.
He snapped off a picture, but after quickly flipping a ten-second timer, he strode forward.
Into the shot.
He’d never been in a shot.
Eric dropped to his knees, pulled her hand away and shoved two fingers in her cunt, which still clenched with her orgasm. Juices poured over his palm.
All real. All for him.
The camera flashed.
Chapter Seven
Eric must’ve set the camera to repeat at intervals. The flash flared as he kissed her and leaned her back against the mattress. The camera would record their bodies in profile.
Being covered by his big, imposing body was so different than riding him. Then, she’d felt like a goddamn superstar. Queen of his mountain. She’d used him and basked under the burning zap of his dedicated attention. Being beneath him sharpened the sense of vulnerability. He could do anything he wanted. Throw her against a wall, fuck her up the ass—his power was complete.
Flash.
She shuddered as he pulled a condom out of the pocket of his robe then slipped it on. She welcomed him inside. So full . Relaxation twined with excitement because now she knew she was safe. His kink wasn’t non-consent or humiliation. He liked rough sex, exactly how she wanted, and he wanted pictures every ten seconds to commemorate the event.
It felt like an event. He surged into her, with nothing done by half-measures. No truncated thrusts, but full, consuming, deliberate strokes. Her joke about whether he could go all night wasn’t a laughing matter. His steady fuck and the concentration on his rugged, scarred face said he could do this until she exploded and exploded.
Greedy whore. As if two weren’t enough.
Not nearly. She was climbing aboard another ride. Clock ticking.
She reached around and grabbed his ass. Hesitant at first, she only scratched those pumping globes of solid muscles. Some men didn’t like even a hint of pain, but he flashed that blink of a smile. “As rough as you like, showgirl. Do it.”
He forced his tongue into her mouth as she dug deep. Squeezing and pinching his rock-hard flesh dragged a moan from them both. They drank each other in. His cock had no limits. Now, stretching her wide, challenging her body to take more and more, he was swelling. Lengthening. Every new sensation and every click of the camera’s bright lights jacked his erection another notch.
Yet Trish hit a high, frustrating plateau. Her orgasm was so close, but her body wasn’t cooperating. She’d used up too much sensation earlier.
The noise she made must’ve signaled him that something was wrong. He slowed, stopped, with his cock buried to the hilt. “Tell me.”
“Stuck,” she said, turning her head unconsciously toward the camera. Another flash made her cringe. Great. He’d have frustrated among his array of unappealing poses. What the hell kind of picture was that? “My clit’s a little numb. I…” She swallowed. “I don’t think I’m gonna come this way.”
He stroked her cheek. Intent, yes, and with tenderness she hadn’t expected. “How often have you admitted that?”
“You make it sound weird.”
“Don’t mean to.”
Why was she blushing? She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but those times she’d faked it…she’d felt like it was wrong. The coward’s way out. She hadn’t demanded pleasure for herself, although she’d certainly accepted the gifts and trinkets that came from a satisfying performance. Now it turned her stomach.
“Never,” she said softly. “Guys don’t want to know that shit.”
“Then why tell me?”
She caressed up his back. A brief flinch marked the moment she passed her palms over his scars. Only then did she realize he’d positioned them so the damaged side of his face pointed away from the camera.
“I don’t think you’d take kindly to me faking my way through.”
“No.” Another undeniable negative. He was good at those. She liked knowing when she guessed him right.
“And
He snapped off a picture, but after quickly flipping a ten-second timer, he strode forward.
Into the shot.
He’d never been in a shot.
Eric dropped to his knees, pulled her hand away and shoved two fingers in her cunt, which still clenched with her orgasm. Juices poured over his palm.
All real. All for him.
The camera flashed.
Chapter Seven
Eric must’ve set the camera to repeat at intervals. The flash flared as he kissed her and leaned her back against the mattress. The camera would record their bodies in profile.
Being covered by his big, imposing body was so different than riding him. Then, she’d felt like a goddamn superstar. Queen of his mountain. She’d used him and basked under the burning zap of his dedicated attention. Being beneath him sharpened the sense of vulnerability. He could do anything he wanted. Throw her against a wall, fuck her up the ass—his power was complete.
Flash.
She shuddered as he pulled a condom out of the pocket of his robe then slipped it on. She welcomed him inside. So full . Relaxation twined with excitement because now she knew she was safe. His kink wasn’t non-consent or humiliation. He liked rough sex, exactly how she wanted, and he wanted pictures every ten seconds to commemorate the event.
It felt like an event. He surged into her, with nothing done by half-measures. No truncated thrusts, but full, consuming, deliberate strokes. Her joke about whether he could go all night wasn’t a laughing matter. His steady fuck and the concentration on his rugged, scarred face said he could do this until she exploded and exploded.
Greedy whore. As if two weren’t enough.
Not nearly. She was climbing aboard another ride. Clock ticking.
She reached around and grabbed his ass. Hesitant at first, she only scratched those pumping globes of solid muscles. Some men didn’t like even a hint of pain, but he flashed that blink of a smile. “As rough as you like, showgirl. Do it.”
He forced his tongue into her mouth as she dug deep. Squeezing and pinching his rock-hard flesh dragged a moan from them both. They drank each other in. His cock had no limits. Now, stretching her wide, challenging her body to take more and more, he was swelling. Lengthening. Every new sensation and every click of the camera’s bright lights jacked his erection another notch.
Yet Trish hit a high, frustrating plateau. Her orgasm was so close, but her body wasn’t cooperating. She’d used up too much sensation earlier.
The noise she made must’ve signaled him that something was wrong. He slowed, stopped, with his cock buried to the hilt. “Tell me.”
“Stuck,” she said, turning her head unconsciously toward the camera. Another flash made her cringe. Great. He’d have frustrated among his array of unappealing poses. What the hell kind of picture was that? “My clit’s a little numb. I…” She swallowed. “I don’t think I’m gonna come this way.”
He stroked her cheek. Intent, yes, and with tenderness she hadn’t expected. “How often have you admitted that?”
“You make it sound weird.”
“Don’t mean to.”
Why was she blushing? She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but those times she’d faked it…she’d felt like it was wrong. The coward’s way out. She hadn’t demanded pleasure for herself, although she’d certainly accepted the gifts and trinkets that came from a satisfying performance. Now it turned her stomach.
“Never,” she said softly. “Guys don’t want to know that shit.”
“Then why tell me?”
She caressed up his back. A brief flinch marked the moment she passed her palms over his scars. Only then did she realize he’d positioned them so the damaged side of his face pointed away from the camera.
“I don’t think you’d take kindly to me faking my way through.”
“No.” Another undeniable negative. He was good at those. She liked knowing when she guessed him right.
“And
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