expansion and contraction of his chest, his ribcage, his abs, with
every breath, with the male scent of him, now so close, overwhelming her
senses. Some part of her that clung to a sense of control flailed and panicked.
Would she know what to do? Can you fail at being a submissive?
“I don’t know what
to do. I mean , do I call you ‘sir?’ Do you tie me up?
Do—”
“Later,” he said,
his voice curt and strong.
He didn’t want to
talk anymore.
The muscles in his
neck twisted and turned as he looked her over. She
could feel the heat of his eyes on her, like he was devouring her with that
gaze, inch by slow inch. She swore she could actually, for real, feel it, her skin sparking alive in the
wake of that, whatever it was he was doing to her without even touching her.
She was aching and swollen, already, beginning to burn hot.
Suddenly his hand
was in her hair, her head pulled back, his eyes on hers. She couldn’t move if
she wanted to, held in place by his grip, and as he
touched his rough fingers to her cheek she actually felt her eyelids flutter.
He ran his hand down her neck, her breasts, around her waist, never taking his
eyes off of her, and by the time he’d stopped she was breathing hard, panting,
fucking panting , and her panties were
soaked.
Chance kissed her.
No, he claimed her. Rough, hungry, hard. She melted. Her arms around his neck,
desperate already to have him on her, in her, whatever he was going to do to
her. He moved down, nipping at her neck, and, with a satisfied growl, reached
his long arms down to grab the hem of her dress.
And removed it.
Pulled it up,
over. For a moment she clung to his neck instinctively, but he unwrapped her
arms, held them high above her head, and the dress was gone. Gone.
This was insane.
She felt safe with a man she barely knew, safe enough to do this? And yet she
wanted it. She needed it.
Her chest
shuddered with ragged, uneven breaths as he bent down again, his eyes on her
still, the look of raw, determined need on his face bringing her even higher.
His hands roamed everywhere. Like he was mapping out his territory. He fell to
his knees, his hands moving faster and faster, his mouth on her breasts, her
belly, and then he bit her hip. A low sound tore from his throat and he thrust
his hand between her legs and pulled her thong down to her ankles. Lena felt
her legs buckle and somehow he caught her, folded her in his arms, and spread
her on the grass.
He stood up only
long enough to take his clothes off.
Oh God. Every inch
of him, hard, chiseled. Muscles sliding under his skin as he moved, the telltale
ripple of abs leading her eye down to the most unbelievably perfect cock she’d
ever seen, standing hard and erect.
A beat. A moment when their eyes locked. And Lena knew, as if she
didn’t already, that this time wasn’t about abstract power games or rules or
scenes. Just dominance, in the most primal, feral way. The two of them wanting each other beyond all thought or reason. This was just…animal.
He was an animal.
He fell on her
like a hunter, his mouth searching out her nipples, her neck, her lips, but he
held back what she wanted most; hovered over her, just out of reach, as she
wrapped her legs around him. She mewled, pulled at him, scrabbled at his back
and shoulders, working herself into a frenzy of driving, primitive need, her
hips rising off the soft grass, feeling nothing but the dull ache that was the
absence of where he should be.
Chance reared back
and slipped his hands under her ass, picking her up off the ground. She arched
at just the anticipation, clawing at the grass under her fingers while he
pinned her with those eyes.
He never looked
away.
His fingers dug
into the soft flesh of her hips as he pulled her onto him while he pushed
forward, impaling her slowly on his full length, eyes boring into her while he
filled her completely. He was big. Big enough that it hurt a little, even with
how slick, how wet, how ready she
was, and
every breath, with the male scent of him, now so close, overwhelming her
senses. Some part of her that clung to a sense of control flailed and panicked.
Would she know what to do? Can you fail at being a submissive?
“I don’t know what
to do. I mean , do I call you ‘sir?’ Do you tie me up?
Do—”
“Later,” he said,
his voice curt and strong.
He didn’t want to
talk anymore.
The muscles in his
neck twisted and turned as he looked her over. She
could feel the heat of his eyes on her, like he was devouring her with that
gaze, inch by slow inch. She swore she could actually, for real, feel it, her skin sparking alive in the
wake of that, whatever it was he was doing to her without even touching her.
She was aching and swollen, already, beginning to burn hot.
Suddenly his hand
was in her hair, her head pulled back, his eyes on hers. She couldn’t move if
she wanted to, held in place by his grip, and as he
touched his rough fingers to her cheek she actually felt her eyelids flutter.
He ran his hand down her neck, her breasts, around her waist, never taking his
eyes off of her, and by the time he’d stopped she was breathing hard, panting,
fucking panting , and her panties were
soaked.
Chance kissed her.
No, he claimed her. Rough, hungry, hard. She melted. Her arms around his neck,
desperate already to have him on her, in her, whatever he was going to do to
her. He moved down, nipping at her neck, and, with a satisfied growl, reached
his long arms down to grab the hem of her dress.
And removed it.
Pulled it up,
over. For a moment she clung to his neck instinctively, but he unwrapped her
arms, held them high above her head, and the dress was gone. Gone.
This was insane.
She felt safe with a man she barely knew, safe enough to do this? And yet she
wanted it. She needed it.
Her chest
shuddered with ragged, uneven breaths as he bent down again, his eyes on her
still, the look of raw, determined need on his face bringing her even higher.
His hands roamed everywhere. Like he was mapping out his territory. He fell to
his knees, his hands moving faster and faster, his mouth on her breasts, her
belly, and then he bit her hip. A low sound tore from his throat and he thrust
his hand between her legs and pulled her thong down to her ankles. Lena felt
her legs buckle and somehow he caught her, folded her in his arms, and spread
her on the grass.
He stood up only
long enough to take his clothes off.
Oh God. Every inch
of him, hard, chiseled. Muscles sliding under his skin as he moved, the telltale
ripple of abs leading her eye down to the most unbelievably perfect cock she’d
ever seen, standing hard and erect.
A beat. A moment when their eyes locked. And Lena knew, as if she
didn’t already, that this time wasn’t about abstract power games or rules or
scenes. Just dominance, in the most primal, feral way. The two of them wanting each other beyond all thought or reason. This was just…animal.
He was an animal.
He fell on her
like a hunter, his mouth searching out her nipples, her neck, her lips, but he
held back what she wanted most; hovered over her, just out of reach, as she
wrapped her legs around him. She mewled, pulled at him, scrabbled at his back
and shoulders, working herself into a frenzy of driving, primitive need, her
hips rising off the soft grass, feeling nothing but the dull ache that was the
absence of where he should be.
Chance reared back
and slipped his hands under her ass, picking her up off the ground. She arched
at just the anticipation, clawing at the grass under her fingers while he
pinned her with those eyes.
He never looked
away.
His fingers dug
into the soft flesh of her hips as he pulled her onto him while he pushed
forward, impaling her slowly on his full length, eyes boring into her while he
filled her completely. He was big. Big enough that it hurt a little, even with
how slick, how wet, how ready she
was, and
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