In the next moment I realize he’s turning us around, walking me back toward the bed. My entire body is still pulsing, still coming down from the pleasure, so when he bends me over, his large hands sliding down the span of my back, each touch seems like an addition to the previous orgasm, rather than a precursor to the next.
Russell kicks at my heels to widen my stance, reaches over and grabs one of the perfectly fluffed pillows from the other side of the bed, curving his body over mine as he tucks it under my chest, my head.
When he does, I feel his cock pressing against my ass and I gasp, desire rocketing back through me again. I try to twist around, to turn andlookat him. I need to see him, to know if the weight and size I’m imagining from the way he’s pressing into me is right. It can’t be.
But Russell’s hands slide over my shoulders, pinning me to the bed, his lips skating over my ear, “I want you bent over, Jules. So that’s what you’re going to do. Got it?”
Holyshit—why does it feel so good to be told what to do. To be limited, held down, his touch gentle but firm—something inside me relaxes for the first time in five years.
“Jules…” he says, his low voice singing in my ear, and once again I can hear that he’s smiling. Russell was right about one thing—this isfun. “Do you understand?”
I nod into the pillow, letting out a whining, desperate sound, and in a tiny act of defiance I turn and catch his lips with mine, kissing him hard and deep, showing him just how much I want this. With his body arched over mine, he reaches around, palming one of my breasts, his other hand clutching at my chin and holding me there as he kisses me deeper, rocking his cock so it presses against my entrance.
He swallows my gasp, humming, teasing, going on like that for what feels like an eternity—rocking against me, but not inside. Releasing me from the kiss, he presses me back down into the bed, one large hand on the small of my back, holding me in place, his other lowering down to his cock.
I can feel him stroking it, and for a horrible moment, I think he’s planning to just come on my back, rather than giving me what I really want, and I gasp out, “I’m on birth control. And clean. You can?—”
“Oh,”he laughs, notching his cock in my entrance. “CanI, Jules?”
“Yes,” I plead, trying to move my hips, to ease him into me, but he holds me firmly in place, and the frustration that mounts inside me curls together with the desire, making me feel urgent. Frantic.
Needy.
“Please,” I whine, letting out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob when he presses, only infinitesimally, further into me. “Please,Russell, ple?—”
The next word is lost in a gasp that morphs to a moan, when he slides forward, taking me in one swift, easy movement. I’m so wet, and so ready that it only takes a moment for the burning, stretching feeling to abate, and then there’s nothing but pleasure.
He pulls out and pushes in slowly, the only sign that he feels like me—frantic and wild—in the shaking of his hand on my back, an indicator that it’s taking restraint to move this slow. The sound that rips out of me when he buries himself in me again is so mortifying that I try to bury my face in the duvet, but Russell isn’t having it.
Tangling his hand in my hair, he pulls me up, so I have to brace myself on my hands, my back arched. The slight shift inposition brings him deeper, and I cry out with pleasure, panting like I never have before.
Thisis the sex that ruins lives. A man like this is how women lose their minds, crawling on their hands and knees for more.
“Say my name,” Russell commands, thrusting into me, his pace picking up, almost like he can’t help himself anymore. “And do it loudly—no more hiding, sweetheart.”
Of course, I do what he says. He holds me—first with his fist in my hair, then my shoulders, then he yanks me up, his palms on my breasts as he fucks me from behind, his sweaty chest flush with my back. We’re just two slick bodies moving together, pushing formore.
Finally, one of his hands snakes up, settling ever so gently around my throat as he holds me to him, his thumb on my pulse point, his cock stretching me out, breaking me open.
And at the slightest whisper of a touch from his other hand on my clit, I lose all semblance of control, my orgasm coming over me like a fainting spell, whisking me away to another universe where there’s nothing but the feeling of him inside me, around me, controlling me, making melet go.
As though it’s what he’s been waiting for, Russell releases, too, hot and sticky andright,his moans and grunts andgood girlsfading away like I’m drifting under water. I can’t keep my eyes open, my head lolling by the time it’s over, and I wonder, distantly, how long we’ve been doing this—more than an hour. Hours? Is that even possible?
I’m so spent, so exhausted, that I only barely feel him kissing over my back, sending slow, lazy shivers up my spine. I barely feel him gathering me in his arms, bringing me to the bathroom. He essentially holds me up in the shower, his gentle hands washing me down, shampooing my hair, and then he’s drying me off and rubbing lotion over my skin, tucking me into bed beside him, my chin on his chest.
And I think, distantly, in my tired, sleepy, sex-hazed brain, that if this is how Russell treats hisfakefiancée, I can’t even imagine what it would be like if it was real.
Chapter 17
Russell
With Jules’ head on my chest, her body disappearing under the luxurious hotel sheets, I draft an email to the family lawyer to let him know about my recent engagement.
SUBJECT: Reply: Estate Inheritance Clause
From: [email protected]
