But who is the torturer, and who is the tortured?
I drop my forehead against her shoulder, my words barely a puff of air in her ear.
‘So you want to kill me. I see how it is.’
‘I need this, James,’ she murmurs, running her fingers over my crown. ‘I need you inside me.’ Her words are like a shot of pure adrenaline through my veins. Hardly a trace of her makeup remains, her hair chaotic from my fingers, yet she is the most beautifully exquisite mess. Real. Genuine. And a picture of wantonness as I bury myself between her legs.
‘Put me inside, Miranda.’
I take her hand and bring it to the base of my cock before swiping the head through her slick skin. My hand over hers, we both shiver as she presses me against her entrance. Heads lowered, we both watch as I breach her, as she accepts me, so slippery and offering no resistance as I take my hips in her hands and bury myself between her legs.
‘Oh, God,’ she whimpers as I withdraw. At the snap of my hips, her hands grasp my biceps as though to keep me there, to hold onto the sensation of being full.
That’s so...Jesus Christ!My jaw flexes, my movements tight as her muscles tremble around me. The sound of her sharp gasps and breathy moans driving me fucking wild. Driving me to rut and fuck. She catches her weight on her palms, her breasts a temptation too great. My thumbs brush her hard nipples before I take the round fullness into my hands, gripping them as I deliver a series of short, punishing thrusts.
‘I can feel your heart beating against my hand—beating in time with the pulse of your pussy.’
Miranda throws her head back as though the sight is a sensation too much, and I bend to flick the tip of my tongue over both nipples in turn. Then, sliding my hands under her, I lift her from the table to bring her closer, her arms feeding around my neck.
The change of depth is immediate.
‘God, yes. Yes!’ Our mouths meet on the up thrust, all jagged breath and questing tongue.
‘You’re so tight,’ I whisper as I bury my face in her neck. ‘So snug. You feel so fucking good.’
‘God. Oh, God. I’m . . . I’m . . . ’
I tighten my grip on her arse and lick her neck, committing her cries to memory as she begins to rock against me, her movements frantic as she chases her high. Her body stiffens suddenly in a rictus of pleasure, her insides milking me for all I’m worth.
‘Oh, darling.’ I tighten my grip as I begin to flex and pump, grinding against her as she goes rigid, then falls apart in my arms. My own climax begins to build, white hot and intense. Like fucking wildfire rushing through my veins, and almost taking my legs from under me.
13
Miranda
I thinkthis is what it must feel like to wake in the hands of God.
I woke a few moments ago, but I haven’t yet dared to move. I’m curled on my side, my prayer-like hands nestled between me and the pillow, but as the moments have passed, I’ve come to realise that this is the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. Not that I’ve slept a great deal. Maybe two or three hours at most? Bouts of dozing mainly, between other things.
His arms around me, his warm breathy whispers in the dark. Neck kisses and nibbling teeth, and the wonderfully, torturous brush of his stubble on oversensitive skin. Groping and grinding and those achingly beautiful masculine groans as I’d taken him into my mouth. My hair in his fist and his delivery of long, languid kisses. My hands pressed to the mattress, our fingers linked. The slide of his body against mine. The sensation of being full of him.
Other things, as I said.
Mind-blowing things.
I swallow thickly. The titleone-night standcould never cover what one night with him is. The experience is too sensual, too intimate, and just. Too. Much.
And too tempting to leave feeling that I’d be happy never to see him again.
I push the thought to the back of my mind. It was just one night, twice. An opportunity to step out from my shitshow of a life. For two nights, he made me forget it all, made me check my troubles at the door, but I know as I step out onto the street again, it’ll all be waiting there to greet me.
God, this mattress. It literally is like sleeping on a cloud.
I wonder if it sees much action.I silently berate myself for my ridiculousness because, of course, it does.
Do you know how you taste?
Like heaven.
