Things came alive that she believed died a long time ago.
The moan was unexpected, a hum of pleasure deep in her throat accompanying the lift of her hands to his head, the slide of her fingers through his silky hair.
She wasn’t a meek, quiet sub reveling in her Masters attention this time. If he wanted to take, to steal, to reclaim what he assumed was his, she’d make him earn it.
Smug satisfaction filled her when he paused slightly, evidently taken aback by her sudden ferocity. A split second to catch her breath before they went at each other like feral cats.
Her nails scored his chest deeper than the vampire gloves, dragging down his skin as his fingers deftly made short work of the lace webbing holding her corset together. Their actions were seamless, no bumping of arms or awkward touches.
Reaux shoved the corset open, his gaze darkening as it dropped to her breasts, then his big palms cupped them, his thumbs rasping over her nipples reverently. A soft, rumbling groan was her only warning before he was on her again, his mouth plundering hers with added savagery, kissing her as though eating her alive was a possibility.
This was such a mistake, probably the biggest in her life, but self-imposed celibacy and bottled up frustration refused to let her stop. She’d missed being touched, missed having a competent pair of hands pushing her buttons, missed beingconnected.
She dug her nails into his ribs as his mouth cruised to her neck, tongue and teeth unerringly finding the erogenous zone he knew drove her crazy. Her knees began to tremble, herpussy clenching on emptiness. Even her thighs were quivering in anticipation.
“Pull down the shorts, Bennie,” he ordered, stroking his tongue over the spot that almost brought her to orgasm. “Pull them down, kick them off, and spread your legs.”
Violet bit his ear sharply. “Don’t presume to command me, Boudreaux.”
Pain lanced her neck, his teeth sinking into her skin so hard she was surprised there wasn’t blood. He didn’t let go, holding her on the brink of pain until it began to bloom into dizzying pleasure, while his hands followed the contours of her curves down to her hips.
The shorts were yanked down abruptly, sliding down her legs to pool around her feet, then his foot gently kicked hers to the side until the leather garment became a restraint. Fingers traced her pussy; he chuckled when he pressed a single digit inside slick, abundant heat.
“Mine, Bennie. Forever mine.” A second thick finger delved inside, stretching her mercilessly. “How hard do I need to fuck you to get rid of any trace of the last man who touched you?”
If she whimpered, he’d think he’d won. Instead, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back. “This means nothing, Boudreaux. A casual fuck, nothing more, are we clear?”
He studied her face carefully, a slow and very suspicious smile creeping over his face. “Oh, absolutely, Mistress. One casual, meaningless fuck, coming right up.” Jerking his head from her grasp, he removed his fingers from her eager pussy and spun her around roughly.
Violet gasped, trying to untangle her feet, but Reaux pulled her hips back, leaving her no option but to set her hands against the wall or use her face to support her instead. Her feet were kicked apart again to the full extent of the shorts, and she knew the position would make her tight. Her lack of indulging in sex forsuch a long time meant she’d be tighter still, which concerned her.
Reaux was built for fucking, and he specialized in hard, rough, and long when he wasn’t in a scene. Sex on its own was an exercise in domination, an opportunity to leave his markinhis woman without leaving oneonher.
There was no way she could ask him to go slow, to be gentle. He’d want to know why, would pry her apart until she confessed there’d been no one but him since the day he sent her away, and that… she couldn’t hand him that much power over her, no matter what.
The blanket dropped to the floor with a soft sound.
Violet’s heart began to pound, her breathing became pants. It shamed her to discover she was quivering like a mare in heat, waiting for a stallion to mount and breed her.
How the hell was she supposed to take back control now when he’d switched things around on her so effortlessly?
Teeth clenched, she pushed her ass back at him. “I haven’t got all day, boy.”
“Of course, Mistress,” he said amiably, his accent pure French now. “My apologies.”
The only warning she got was the quick up-down rub of his crown through her slit before it eased in, stretching her entrance. From experience, she was aware how sore she was going to be—the first time she’d taken him, all those years ago, an icepack and three days of no contact were the only things that relieved the tenderness.
Then, he’d been gentle with her.
Now… all bets were off…
…Until his hands gripped her hips, telling her she was in for a rough ride. When he was in a loving, caring mood, his hands reflected it; in that mood, he preferred eye contact, watching his lover come apart at his behest.
Reaux slammed inside her, the familiar length and girth of his cock punching deep, lifting her onto her toes. Still wearing her heels, she was the right height for him in this position, providing the perfect angle.
Violet bit her lip to stifle the scream he wrenched from her, even as her body and mind conspired against her in their need to let him know just how much they appreciated his efforts. Hands braced on the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut, immersing herself in the sensations she’d craved for too long.
When his groin smacked against her ass, she almost came.
