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

do, though instead of bending over to hike up my panties, I step out and kick them aside. Then I turn cautiously to face Dean, his face half-hidden in the shadows, every muscle of that big body taut and ready.
    Was this his plan? Show me he can turn me on then kick me out? My pussy clenches frantically at the idea but I keep my face blank, unwilling to beg, not even if he demands it.
    But Dean doesn’t ask for anything, startling me when he pushes his shorts down just far enough to free a raging erection, wrapping it in his hand and jerking himself roughly. “Go sit on the table,” he orders, twisting his head to indicate a pool table in the center of the cavernous space, balls neatly racked at the far end.
    I hesitate, watching him fist himself, wondering why he hasn’t asked me to touch him.
    “Sit on the fucking table,” he barks when I don’t move. “Lay back, spread your legs and put a foot in each pocket. I’ll be there when I’m ready.”
    My back stiffens in indignation at the order. When he’s
ready
? As though he’s doing me a favor? My pussy urges me to hurry over to the table and get into position, but my pride rears its stubborn head and flatly refuses.
    “No,” I say firmly.
    His eyebrow arches and the hand on his cock stills. “No?”
    I shake my head, meeting his angry stare. “No. Do it here. Face-to-face.”
    He takes a step forward and it’s hard to keep my eyes on his, not to ogle the massive erection that’s the answer to my most pressing issue right now. “Or what?”
    I shrug like I don’t care. “Or keep jerking yourself off like you were going to spend the night doing anyway.”
    His lips twist in what might have been a smile, but whatever it is vanishes in an instant, replaced by a tight, determined scowl. He covers the short distance between us and backs me into the door, the smooth wood bumping my shoulder blades.
    “Skirt up,” he whispers.
    “Condom on,” I counter.
    He does smile then, just for a second, and I lift my skirt as he sheaths himself. There’s no time for second-guessing because the next thing I know he’s got my knee in one hand and he’s hoisting it up over his hip, so high my toes barely touch the ground, even in my shiny silver heels.
    He lines himself up at my sopping entrance and pushes inside, so big and hard that I have to force myself to relax—
ha
—to let him in. He gives me a few seconds to adapt then forges in some more, burying half his length inside me, tender muscles squealing in protest. A tiny whimper of pain leaves my mouth and he stills, eyes fixed on mine, trying to judge my acquiescence.
    After a moment he moves again, a little gentler than before, still watching my face. He works himself in like this, careful but determined, until my breath is coming in frantic pants and my fingers are latched on to his biceps like they’re a lifeline. He exhales on a shuddering breath when he’s buried all the way inside, so large I can’t imagine how I’m going to walk normally tomorrow.
    But then he moves and I can’t think about tomorrow, can’t think about anything but right now, his cock stroking my tender insides as he fucks me slow and deep until he’s gliding easily through my juices. He begins to thrust harder then, as though my lubrication is permission to really unleash. He pounds into me, my tailbone banging against the door, making me wince. All too aware, Dean releases my knee and slides his hand down my spine, using it to cushion the blows. It also angles my hips forward more, allowing him impossibly deeper access.
    “Oh God,” I cry, as he hits my clit on each thrust.
    “You want to come?” he grunts.
    I nod, eyes squeezed tight.
    “Open your eyes, let me see it.”
    It takes another three thrusts before I can open my eyes, hazy gaze slowly locking on his, inches above me. Despite the fury of the act, the sweat dripping down his temples and between my breasts, Dean’s eyes are still that unnerving combination of hot and