Read Online Bare Knuckle: Vegas Top Guns, Book 5 by Katie Porter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katie Porter
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damn it, I want to come.”
The camera kept up its pace, recording their conversation. She wondered once more, what was the point? Maybe he’d been putting on a hard-ass front when he said he would keep all of them. That couldn’t possibly be the case.
Eric trailed his fingers down her throat, along the side of her breast. “Thank you for telling me. Now we can do something to fix it.”
His withdrawal was a reminder of his amazing size. Potent. Cock gone, body gone, she was bereft of that sheltered thrill—consumed and guarded at once.
“Up. Back on your knees.”
Although wobbly after holding all those poses, Trish complied. Quickly he left the bed and made a few adjustments to the camera. What, she couldn’t know, but his expression was especially intent when he returned to her.
“You look like a man on a mission.”
“Your pleasure.”
“Oh God.”
His smile quirked at her reflexive response. The flash was clicking away, faster now. As Eric climbed behind her on the bed, she counted each at three seconds. Practically an old-fashioned flipbook.
He grasped her around the waist, with one hand strong at her hip. Such a bruiser. He squeezed and groped her. He tossed her forward onto her hands and knees then fucked into her with no warning. Trish squealed. His grip on her hips was implacable. Every driving thrust threatened to shove her off the bed, but he held her firmly in place, ready to receive each pulse of his amazing cock.
She thought maybe she’d try her clit again. He was so good . All rhythm and power. But he slipped his arm through both her elbows and pulled them back, imprisoning them between sweat-slicked bodies. The move arched her back against his chest and thrust out her breasts. His other arm wrapped low around her hips. Supporting her completely. He fucked her with the precision and timing of a piston.
Now she couldn’t touch herself. She didn’t know if she had the guts to tell him a second time that it wasn’t working. A heavy sense of frustration and disappointment threatened to kill her buzz.
Until those unforgettable lips nestled close to her ear.
“They’re watching us, Trish.”
“What?”
He gripped her tighter. His speed had picked up—as concentrated, as deliberate, but with an edge of desperation. “The paparazzi. Those cameras. All aimed at you.”
She gasped. That image hit deep, deep in her mind. Secret places. She’d almost forgotten the steady flash of the camera. Now it was all she could think of. “More. Please, Eric.”
“They’ve come to see the hottest piece of ass in Vegas get nailed. Get fucking pounded .” He punctuated the word with a stroke that made her cry out. “They barely remember to click the shutter. They’re too busy staring at your tits. Nipples like jewels. They’re hard for you, showgirl. One of them is out in that crowd with his fingers inside his fly.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. His voice was such a turn-on, but his words… All the while knowing it was the most he’d spoken the whole night. For her. To get her off.
He slipped the hand at her hip down toward her pussy. Slowly, so slowly, he started on her clit. The pace of his thrusts never eased. His breath was as ragged as hers. He was close, while she was building up to an orgasm she’d never experienced before—something she wouldn’t be able to control.
It scared the hell out of her.
He didn’t relent. “His hand’s wrapped around his cock, showgirl. He’s a professional man. He’s got deadlines and pictures to present to his editors. A paycheck to earn. Hell, a reputation. He’s experienced and proud of it. But the camera’s hanging off his shoulder. He’s too busy jerking off. Watching me fuck you. Watching how you move and the sweat on your stomach. You’ve got him mesmerized. He’ll bang the shit out of his girlfriend when he gets home. He’ll take her up the ass for the first time. She won’t know what hit her.”
“Jesus.”
Her whole body was shaking.
The camera kept up its pace, recording their conversation. She wondered once more, what was the point? Maybe he’d been putting on a hard-ass front when he said he would keep all of them. That couldn’t possibly be the case.
Eric trailed his fingers down her throat, along the side of her breast. “Thank you for telling me. Now we can do something to fix it.”
His withdrawal was a reminder of his amazing size. Potent. Cock gone, body gone, she was bereft of that sheltered thrill—consumed and guarded at once.
“Up. Back on your knees.”
Although wobbly after holding all those poses, Trish complied. Quickly he left the bed and made a few adjustments to the camera. What, she couldn’t know, but his expression was especially intent when he returned to her.
“You look like a man on a mission.”
“Your pleasure.”
“Oh God.”
His smile quirked at her reflexive response. The flash was clicking away, faster now. As Eric climbed behind her on the bed, she counted each at three seconds. Practically an old-fashioned flipbook.
He grasped her around the waist, with one hand strong at her hip. Such a bruiser. He squeezed and groped her. He tossed her forward onto her hands and knees then fucked into her with no warning. Trish squealed. His grip on her hips was implacable. Every driving thrust threatened to shove her off the bed, but he held her firmly in place, ready to receive each pulse of his amazing cock.
She thought maybe she’d try her clit again. He was so good . All rhythm and power. But he slipped his arm through both her elbows and pulled them back, imprisoning them between sweat-slicked bodies. The move arched her back against his chest and thrust out her breasts. His other arm wrapped low around her hips. Supporting her completely. He fucked her with the precision and timing of a piston.
Now she couldn’t touch herself. She didn’t know if she had the guts to tell him a second time that it wasn’t working. A heavy sense of frustration and disappointment threatened to kill her buzz.
Until those unforgettable lips nestled close to her ear.
“They’re watching us, Trish.”
“What?”
He gripped her tighter. His speed had picked up—as concentrated, as deliberate, but with an edge of desperation. “The paparazzi. Those cameras. All aimed at you.”
She gasped. That image hit deep, deep in her mind. Secret places. She’d almost forgotten the steady flash of the camera. Now it was all she could think of. “More. Please, Eric.”
“They’ve come to see the hottest piece of ass in Vegas get nailed. Get fucking pounded .” He punctuated the word with a stroke that made her cry out. “They barely remember to click the shutter. They’re too busy staring at your tits. Nipples like jewels. They’re hard for you, showgirl. One of them is out in that crowd with his fingers inside his fly.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. His voice was such a turn-on, but his words… All the while knowing it was the most he’d spoken the whole night. For her. To get her off.
He slipped the hand at her hip down toward her pussy. Slowly, so slowly, he started on her clit. The pace of his thrusts never eased. His breath was as ragged as hers. He was close, while she was building up to an orgasm she’d never experienced before—something she wouldn’t be able to control.
It scared the hell out of her.
He didn’t relent. “His hand’s wrapped around his cock, showgirl. He’s a professional man. He’s got deadlines and pictures to present to his editors. A paycheck to earn. Hell, a reputation. He’s experienced and proud of it. But the camera’s hanging off his shoulder. He’s too busy jerking off. Watching me fuck you. Watching how you move and the sweat on your stomach. You’ve got him mesmerized. He’ll bang the shit out of his girlfriend when he gets home. He’ll take her up the ass for the first time. She won’t know what hit her.”
“Jesus.”
Her whole body was shaking.
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