Read Online Time Served by Julianna Keyes - Free Book Online Page A

on shaky legs to face the door, forced to rest my cheek against the cool wood as I use both fumbling hands to lift up my skirt and hold it in place. Dean grabs my hips and jerks them back so my ass is thrust out, and I feel his fingers hook under the lace at my sides and work it down my legs with surprising care.
    “No,” he says, when I lift my foot so he can slide the panties off. “This is good. Spread your legs as far as you can.”
    I lick my lips nervously but follow orders, stepping apart until the flimsy fabric is stretched between my ankles like shackles. The position opens me up, the night air washing over my sticky skin and chilling the moisture that coats my inner thighs. I don’t know that I’ve ever been this wet—or this wary.
    “Nice,” Dean says, nipping my ass cheek briefly as he straightens behind me. “Even better in person.”
    I close my eyes at the thought of him picturing me like this, skirt hoisted over my hips, shiny with arousal, anxiously awaiting his next move. He pushes one thick finger back inside, stroking roughly as his other hand kneads my ass, thrusting his cock against my back. I can feel the smooth fabric of his shorts on my heated skin and the sensation makes me moan.
    “You like that?” he whispers, biting my earlobe lightly.
    “Yes,” I groan.
    “How about this?” Without warning, he slips his finger out of my pussy and pushes the drenched digit hard and deep into my ass.
    I cry out as I feel the virgin muscles stretch over his thick finger, the first and second knuckles forging through until it’s lodged all the way. The initial pain is sharp and burning, though it ebbs just as quickly. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and war with the urge to cry “lawyer” when we’ve just gotten started.
    If this is how it begins
, I think, trembling,
I’m not sure I’m ready for how it ends.
    “Say the word,” Dean goads, reading my mind. “Say it, Rachel.”
    I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, but shake my head as best I can against the door.
    Dean trails his tongue down my throat. “Good girl.”
    The finger in my ass starts to move in short, slow strokes, almost tender now that he’s gotten the reaction he was looking for. His other hand unzips my dress and pushes the top down, exposing my breasts to his callused palm. I hiss in a breath as he gropes me roughly, shoving down the lacy cup and pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He lingers for a moment, lips sucking the side of my neck, biting lightly on the tendon there, soothing with gentle, misleading kisses.
    The hand in front slides its way over my stomach and finally—finally—covers my throbbing center, holding me for a long moment, as though letting the moisture gather in his palm. He pushes one finger in, moving it and the one in my ass in tandem, enjoying his hold on me. If not for his labored breathing, I’d think this was all for sport, just a power trip, one thing to cross off his sexual bucket list: Fuck Rachel Moser in all three holes. And make her like it.
    The rough skin of his palm rasps over my throbbing clit and makes me moan, a sound that rattles up from somewhere in my belly and escapes against my will. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and Dean pushes two more fingers into my pussy, alternately fucking my front and back. I feel the orgasm building, stomach muscles contracting, breath coming in shallow, needy gasps. He picks up the pace, at times pressing so hard and deep that I have to stand on my tiptoes to bear it. I wince, my breath hitching with occasional bites of pain, but my body continues to bathe his slick fingers in invitation.
    When I can’t take it anymore, when I’m positively desperate to orgasm, he stops. Dean removes both hands from my body and steps away to collect a condom from the gym bag on the floor, breathing heavily. I’m frozen for a moment, a lewd, needy tableau, waiting for my common sense to return. The first thought reminds me to drop my skirt, which I