Her entire body tightened—thighs trembling, throat working around him as a broken cry spilled past her lips. Another orgasm hit her in a shuddering wave, clenching around his fingers.
His control was down to a tiny thread. Thank fuck—it was his turn now. The question was—did he come down her throat or inside her?
The latter almost always won out. It did now.
He withdrew with a ragged exhale.
“The panties have to go,” he said, voice thick with need. “Stand up.”
She rose on shaky legs, flushed and glistening with sweat and arousal.
He held up a finger—still wet from her—and twirled it.
Understanding his silent command, she turned to face the chair.
Alec slid the panties down her legs, steadying her as she stepped out of them.
“Kneel on the seat and lean over the back,” he ordered next.
While she settled into place, he shoved down his pants.
Her ass was round and firm. Perfect for his palm or a flogger, but there would be time for that later. He stroked his cock, just enough to ease the ache then squatted behind her and buried his face between her thighs.
Alec licked from her clit to entrance, dipping inside before moving higher and swirling his tongue over the smaller opening. But that initiation was for another scene, another night.
He grabbed a condom from his jeans pocket, rolled it on, and sank into her in one claiming thrust.
Her heat enveloped him—tight, yielding, almost too good to bear. He adjusted her position, leaning her forward until her head hung over the chair back. Then he gathered her hair in one hand, anchoring her.
He eased out then surged in again with one hard, disciplined stroke—holding onto his control by sheer force of will.
One hand reached behind her, fingers curling around his thigh as she rocked to meet him, instinct overriding direction. He could have let it slide but didn’t. He was a dominant, after all.
His hand came down on a rounded cheek. Not a punishment, just a reminder. Enough to pierce the haze of pleasure.
Startled, she yelped. She tried to turn and look at him, but his hand in the thick skein of her hair prevented it.
“Where are your hands supposed to be, Emily?”
She immediately put them behind her.
“That’s it,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around both wrists, helping her hold the position.
He slid out and then glided home again, finding a driving rhythm that made her cry out every time he filled her.
Her cries rose, high and breathless, feeding the fire ripping through him. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, until everything disappeared in a rough, guttural roar as he came, pulsing deep inside her.
Chapter 12
When awareness seeped back in, Emily found herself cradled in Alec’s lap, strong thighs beneath her, his arm steady behind her. His fingers stroked gently through her hair—tender, grounding. But the murmurs around them weren’t his voice. They were other people’s—low, amused, curious. Too close. Too many.
“We’re not alone anymore, are we?”
“No,” he replied quietly. “They heard us and came to see.”
She groaned and buried her face in his neck. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
His lips brushed her forehead, softly reassuring. “There was only a handful watching,” he soothed. “If you stay at Devil’s Pointe long enough, you get used to being watched. Half the magic here is exhibition or voyeurism.”
