Zoë Archer - Sweet Revenge

She bowed upward, no longer able to hold back her climax. It was a tightening and a release, as expansive and devastating as time itself. And endless. For he continued to lick and taste her, taking her to ecstasy too many times for her to count. She knew only the feel of him and how he drank of her with a brutal reverence.

She kept her eyes open, watching him, his mouth on her, his hand on his cock. She clutched the back of his head with one hand, and the other she used to stroke and rub her nipples.

He pulled back enough to say hoarsely, “You hide this, don’t you? Won’t show anyone what you’re really like. How wild you are. How hot you burn.”

“Not with you,” she moaned. “Can’t hide…”

“That’s right.” His voice was deep, unyielding. “Only I get to see this.” He licked her again, and another climax shuddered through her.

“Enough,” she said when she could speak again. She pushed him back, and his eyes blazed.

“We ain’t done,” he growled.

“We surely aren’t.” She pointed to the bed. “Take off your clothes and lie there.”

His eyebrows rose at her imperious tone, but he did as she commanded. He stood and stripped off his clothing, flinging everything aside with flattering haste. His coat, waistcoat, shirt. Trousers and boots. Then he was naked. Standing in the middle of her rooms completely nude.

She’d seen him without his clothes once before, but they had been in a dark carriage, and she hadn’t had the luxury of time and light to truly look at him. Now she had both, and what she saw filled her with raw, female need.

His every muscle stood out in hard relief, from the round caps of his shoulders to the planes of his chest and down to the sharp delineations of his abdomen. He was everywhere muscled—arms, thighs, calves—and he was wondrous and stunning and not a little frightening. Without his clothing, he became the most primal essence of masculinity, timeless and potent.

As he turned to kick aside his clothes, she saw his back. Scars traversed it, the thick indelible mark of the lash. Her heart contracted.

He turned back to her, and her gaze followed the line of his hip as it arrowed down to his groin. His cock stood at full attention and seemed to twitch beneath her perusal.

He took a step toward her, but she pointed once more at the bed. “Go on,” she commanded.

He shot her a look that seemed to indicate he didn’t appreciate being ordered about, yet he moved fast enough, climbing onto her bed. As he did so, she took a selfish moment to admire the flex of his firm buttocks. The springs creaked and the mattress sagged beneath his weight. There was a very good chance they’d break her bed tonight. She didn’t care in the slightest.

“Bed’s too damned small to lie down,” he said.

“Sit at the edge.”

When he did so, and looked at her expectantly, she pulled off her nightgown and tossed it onto a nearby chair. He growled in response.

“Better not turn down the lights,” he said, staring at her, “because I’ve waited too long to see you like this.”

“I’ve wanted to be seen.”

She let him look his fill, reveling in the way he drank her in with his eyes. He was a man, so of course his gaze lingered on her breasts and between her legs, but he also traced the lengths of her arms, her legs, even taking note of her bare toes.

But there was only so much admiration from a distance either of them could stand.

“If you don’t bloody get over here, right now,” he said, “I’m coming to get you.”

“I don’t like being ordered around, either,” she answered.

She sauntered toward him, feeling the sway of her hips, the measure of her own power. And the way he watched her, as though she contained every answer to every mystery, filled her with strength.

His hands curved over her hips when she stood between his legs. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her breasts, the bristle of his jaw deliciously abrasive against her skin. He ran his tongue around her nipples, alternating between them, and she threaded her fingers into his hair, holding him close. More heat spiraled through her—feeling him, seeing him.

Reaching down, she grasped his cock. He rumbled against her breast as she encircled him. He was iron-hard, filling her hand. She stroked the wide head, down the shaft, then back up, lightly raking her nails over him. Sharply, he inhaled, his hips rising up. Ah, he liked that. So she did it again, punctuating her strokes with careful scrapes up his shaft.

His hand clamped down over hers. “Have to stop,” he grated. “Or I’ll go off in your hand.”

She smiled wickedly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I would, damn it. Enough talk—need to be inside you.” He pulled her closer.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands on her hips, she straddled him, her legs wrapping around his waist. Their bodies pressed close, and they both groaned at the feel of his chest against her breasts, his flat abdomen and rigid cock tight to the curve of her stomach. She didn’t take him within her, not yet. For a lifetime it seemed she had waited for this, and she wouldn’t rush.

Canting her hips, she guided his cock between her folds. Up and down she moved, sliding him along her lips, over her clit, coating him with her wetness. Exquisite sensation flooded her to feel him like this, to watch the agonized pleasure on his face as she deliberately tortured them both.

“Ah, God, Eva,” he gasped. “That’s … God …” Yet even as they both shook with pleasure, he had reached his breaking point. Hands almost cruel on her hips, he lifted her up, notched his cock at her opening, then brought her down, surging into her.

She cried out.

Instantly, he stilled. “Hurting you?”

“I only need … a moment.” He was huge within her, stretching her to her utmost. Thank heavens she was soaking wet, for she doubted she would’ve been able to accommodate him otherwise. She breathed deep, willing her body to relax. In a moment, the pain ebbed, and she was left with only sensation, wonderful sensation.

“Better?” he asked.

“Best,” she murmured.

“Good, because I’ve got to do this.” He thrust up, and she cried out again, this time from pure pleasure. “And this.” He moved once more, filling her completely.

She clung to his shoulders as she rode him, his hips meeting hers, his cock exquisite within her. His thrusts were measured but fierce, and she gasped with each one.

Looking down, she watched his cock plunging in and out of her. Yes. Everywhere, heat. Sensation. She ground her clit against him as he continued to fuck her relentlessly. White-hot, her climax tore through her. He clapped his hand over her mouth, muffling her cries.

When the last filaments of her orgasm faded, she found herself flipped onto her back, her knees up and feet on the mattress. Jack knelt on the ground, his hands continuing to grip her hips. She gazed up at him through pleasure-glazed eyes. Sweat glossed his body. Brutal desire hollowed his cheeks, and his expression was fierce. A beast ready to claim its mate.

More than lust shone in his eyes. A kind of searching, a need. And when he thrust into her, that need blazed even higher.

She gripped the mattress for support as he drove in and out of her. The room was filled with the sounds of flesh against flesh, and their commingled cries. Light gleamed on his muscles as they flexed with effort. Primal. True and real.

With a groan midway between anguish and ecstasy, he suddenly pulled out of her. Hot seed shot from him, coating her belly. He threw his head back as his climax raged on.

At last, he released his grasp of her hips—there would be bruises, but she didn’t care—and planted his hands on either side of her head, his body bowing over hers. Their kiss was molten, deep. She wanted to lose herself in this moment, every inch of her thrumming with satiation.