Night Fall: Truly, Madly... Deadly Part 15

"Then let me be the first."

Quentin started to sweat in earnest. Part of him wanted to wrest control from the vixen, the other part was dying to see where her curiosity would lead next. Would she really...

She did! One slender finger pressed inward where none had ever dared enter before. He squeezed his b.u.t.tocks, resisting, but she was relentless. Finally, he felt the tight ring give, and she was inside.

"So tight," she murmured. "I believe you." She swirled her finger and watched his face, no doubt to gauge his reaction.

He fought to school his features into a mask, but she touched something inside him that had his hips jerking off the bed. "Darcy!" he warned. He didn't dare move again, his a.r.s.e burned already, his b.a.l.l.s had tightened to stones, and his d.i.c.k felt ready to burst. But he couldn't give her this victory.

"Poor baby. You look worried," she said, and rose on her knees, her face poised above his aching rod. "Will you beg me, now?"

Gritting his teeth, he refused to give her an answer, but his body spoke for him. His hips pumped, nudging his wayward little man against her lips.

Her mouth opened, and she took the head of his c.o.c.k into her warm, wet mouth. Her teeth nibbled on the crown-tiny, sharp bites that sent electric shocks throughout his body, and he bit back a moan.

G.o.d, he needed her to take him into her throat. He pressed upward, hoping to gain deeper access.

But she drew back. "Tell me what you want."

Quentin stared into her eyes. They glittered with triumph. The witch knew how close he was to exploding, but she denied him. He closed his eyes and willed his flesh to resist her lure, but he'd already lost. He'd die if she didn't take him now. "Please, Darcy. Suck my c.o.c.k."

"Oh baby, you've made me so happy. But I don't think you're ready."

Surprise rocketed through him. His eyes slammed open, and he glared.

Her smile promised unimaginable torments, and Quentin cursed. With her finger up his a.r.s.e, he was shackled to her whim.

Her pink tongue lapped a lazy circle around the root of his c.o.c.k, rising ever higher until she reached the head. He panted, hoping now she'd sink her mouth over him, but she pressed the tip of her wicked tongue into the small opening at the top, coaxing a drop of pre-c.u.m.

She groaned and slid her mouth down his shaft, the sound vibrating on his swollen flesh.

His hips pumped upward in shallow, short thrusts that frustrated him. He craved her warm mouth, needed her deep, wet throat to swallow all of his length.

Her free hand encircled him at the base, and she sc.r.a.ped her teeth along the rigid pole of his s.e.x.

Silently, he promised revenge. Promised to drive her mad with his tongue and c.o.c.k. Until she begged for forgiveness for making him plead. "Darcy, give me release. Take me, baby. f.u.c.k me."

A second slender finger slid inside him, and he couldn't hold back his shout. Pain and ecstasy warred. Then she moved her fingers, in and out, while she fluttered her tongue along his raging erection. His cries ripped from the back of his throat. Suddenly, she stopped all movement. He watched her, his body tensing to resist her next a.s.sault.

Her expression wasn't gloating as he'd expected. Her cheeks flamed, her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. She was as seduced by her actions as he was. Her mouth closed over him, and she sank on his c.o.c.k until his head b.u.mped against the opening of her throat. Then she opened her jaws wider and sank deeper still.

He heard a l.u.s.ty, hoa.r.s.e shout, and then he was driving his hips upward, slamming into her depths. When he came, his cries grew strangled, and finally, his b.a.l.l.s exploded and c.u.m jetted into her throat-long, hot streams of liquid fire. When he'd shot his load, he lay there, spent, allowing her to soothe him with her tongue and mouth, her low murmurs gentling his flesh.

He'd get his revenge the little witch. But later-after he'd recovered from the greatest o.r.g.a.s.m he'd ever experienced.

Chapter Ten.

Darcy yawned and stretched, easing the pleasant aches in her muscles, only to discover something impeded the movement of her arms. Her eyes shot open. Her wrists were wrapped in pink cotton-her shredded panties, she realized, and they were tied to the headboard.

"Finally, you're awake," Quentin purred. He lay on his side, his head propped on one hand.

He had the look of a man who wasn't in any hurry.

And why should he be? she silently grumbled. He'd come, roaring like a freight train, then promptly fell asleep. Darcy had lain at his side, frustrated and hurting for what seemed like hours afterward. She'd had her way with him, but her victory had backfired.

Now her body remembered where she'd left off. Every swollen, achy point throbbed with her heartbeat.

She groaned inwardly. He would make her pay. He'd torture her with the sweet, sliding promise of his c.o.c.k, fingers, and mouth until she begged as loudly as he had. A plea she'd forced. She winced. Perhaps, she'd taken things a little far. Maybe he'd accept an apology. "Quentin?"

"Yes, love?" His voice was mild-with a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt.

s.h.i.+t! s.h.i.+t! s.h.i.+t! What does he want to hear?

His body was stretched beside hers, but not touching. The heat from his skin burned her. His mouth curved only slightly, and his gaze never left her face.

His stillness made her nervous as h.e.l.l.

"You know, everything you're thinking is written on your face, darling. It's really quite remarkable."

Darcy wished she could school her features into a careless expression, but all her energies were spent holding her hips still. She clamped her thighs tightly and fought the quiver of arousal that threatened to shake her belly. Where will he start? With my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, or my p.u.s.s.y? Oh G.o.d, will he take my a.s.s?

She gave up pretending fearlessness and glared. "Will you just get it over with? What do you want me to say? I'll say it." Her voice rose. "Do you want to spank me? I'll take it. Just get it over with, so you can f.u.c.k me."

Quentin's smile broadened. "What an imagination you have! Did I leave you in a bad way, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" Now she really would wail. "Touch me, please!" She rolled her hips toward him, pressing her thighs against his.

He settled a hand on her stomach and pushed her back.

"Are you going to leave me, again?" A sick, panicked feeling made her stomach roil. "Will you make me wait? Because if you are, I'll scream so loud the whole neighborhood will think I'm dying. And I won't be so discriminating about who I beg to help me."

His gaze narrowed, his eyes glittering dangerously. "I told you. You will not take another lover. Never again. I watched while your partner pounded away at you. I won't share you again."

She thrilled at the possessive note in his voice. "Then f.u.c.k me. Make me yours. I'll be yours as long as you want me."

His hand hovered over one breast then settled, warm and heavy. "And if I want forever?"

The nerve ending in her nipple fired, shooting a curling desire into her belly. She swallowed past the lump that lodged in her throat. "I'll give it to you."

"You'd give me your life for a f.u.c.king?" he asked.

His voice was casual, but his expression was alert. She raised an eyebrow. "You are an extraordinary f.u.c.k."

He gave her a c.o.c.ky grin. "What makes me special? How can I know you aren't simply saying what I want to hear?"

Can he read my mind? "Baby," she moaned, "I love the way you smell-of the sea and warm musk."

He raised a single eyebrow.

He wasn't impressed. "You only have to look at me, and I melt. Your mouth torments me." She writhed and arched her back to raise her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "My t.i.ts are so tight and hard, they're begging for your kisses."

"Huh!" he grunted, but he molded her breast with his palm.

She raised her knees and let them fall open.

His gaze zeroed in on her moist slit.

"I need your mouth and your huge c.o.c.k. Take me."

His jaw rippled as he clamped his teeth tightly. "Tell me about my c.o.c.k."

Was his voice hoa.r.s.e? "You fill me to bursting. When you're crammed up inside me so tight I can't breathe, I don't ever want to let you go."

Heat was in his gaze, and he flared his nostrils. "There's the little matter of what you did to me tonight."

"I'm sorry. I took it too far. I know I did. But you were so wonderfully responsive. I felt powerful, and so G.o.dd.a.m.ned turned on. Then you fell asleep..."

"Did I leave you wanting?"

She stared deep into his eyes. "Yes!"

"Good." He reached over her and released the knots that bound her wrists.

"That's it?"

"I find I can't prolong your punishment. I'm hard as oak, and I haven't had the pleasure of your warm solace this evening."

Darcy opened her arms joyously.

Quentin lowered himself over her, pressing her deep into the mattress from her shoulders to her toes.

"I'm going to f.u.c.k you until you shout the roof off the house." He pushed her hands onto the pillow and clamped his thighs around hers, trapping them closed.

Eager to begin, Darcy wriggled beneath him, wanting her legs free to clasp his hips, but he wouldn't allow it.

His c.o.c.k nudged between her thighs, poking against her soaking slit.

Darcy's made a little s.p.a.ce between her legs, just enough so he slipped between her thighs and pressed against her slick folds.

Quentin's jaw clenched, and he drove his hips forward, pus.h.i.+ng past her l.a.b.i.a, into her channel, all the way inside her until he b.u.t.ted her womb. He released a groan.

Darcy echoed it.

But he didn't move again. "Well, here we are."

Darcy waited for the storm to erupt, but he remained still. Her eyes narrowed. She knew he'd conceded too quickly. He intended to torture her. She tugged her hands from beneath his and traced the center of his spine, lightly, teasingly.

"Darcy," he growled, "You're not wresting control from me."

Oh yeah? I know your hot b.u.t.tons, baby. She dug her nails into his back and sc.r.a.ped them down to the top of his b.u.t.tocks, feeling the ripple of his response.

"Witch." His mouth descended, and he circled his lips over hers.

She tempted him with her tongue, reaching out to lick his closed lips, stabbing at the seam.

He resisted her invitation.

But, she'd just started. Her hands glided lower, and she cupped his firm a.s.s, giving him a squeeze.

His c.o.c.k pulsed, but he didn't move inside her. He dragged his lips from hers. "Have you no patience? Is it not enough that I'm inside you, filling you? It is for me. Your c.u.n.t is hot and moist, and your l.u.s.t is fragrant."

Darcy glared upward. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d intended to make her wait. This was almost more diabolical than her last "lesson." He was there! All the way up her. How could he resist their combined heat? Her hips longed to squirm and flex, but his weight trapped her movements.

But, he'd forgotten about one set of muscles over which he had no control. As she glared defiantly, she tightened her p.u.s.s.y and released, tightened and released.

And her hands were free. She reached until her fingers found the crease of his a.s.s and trailed downward to press against his tightly furled a.n.u.s. Grinning, she said, "Can you resist, love? Hmmm?" She circled one finger and felt his thighs tremble atop hers.

Leaning upward, she bit his lower lip and dragged his mouth down to hers, sucking his lip inside her mouth, while her hands continued their torture below.

Sweat broke out on his face and chest, his arms began to shake, and his d.i.c.k moved an inch deeper.

With a hoa.r.s.e cry, he rammed a knee between her legs, shoving her thighs wide, and pulled out of her entirely.

Darcy moaned a protest and pressed her finger into his a.s.s.

Holding himself above her on his arms, he released a deep rumble that built from the back of his throat.

Darcy chuckled and poked her finger in and out. The man did love a finger-f.u.c.k. "What's it gonna be, Bat-boy?"

Quentin broke into a full-fledged growl, and Darcy knew she'd won.

He grabbed her and rolled her roughly onto her stomach. Then he pulled up her hips and drove his c.o.c.k straight into her, cramming himself inside her body.

Darcy yelped and rose on her hands-the better to meet his powerful thrusts.

Each forward drive jerked her entire body until she grasped the headboard to brace herself.

The moves were almost too much-too deep, too hard, too fast. He gripped her a.s.s cheeks and rammed forward as far as he could go, grinding himself inside her, lifting and lowering her hips to increase the friction where her p.u.s.s.y met the crisp, wiry hairs at his groin.