Kitabı oku: «The Dare Collection October 2018», sayfa 5
“I don’t pick up strangers in bars.”
“You didn’t pick me up, either. It was quite the opposite, if you’ll recall.”
She stared at him a moment. Then that chin of hers tilted up again.
“Is this why you got me naked?” she demanded. “So we could talk?”
Thor laughed at that, and even that made his impatient cock ache. He shifted so he was leaning over her more, bearing her back against his bed.
“Remember,” he told her sternly. “You’re not allowed to kiss me no matter what happens. This is your rule.”
She frowned at that, as he had known she would. She was sucking in a breath, no doubt to share her indignation, when he dropped another inch and took one of those pink nipples in his mouth.
Finally.
And whatever she might have said was choked off. Then turned into a cute little sound of need that Thor liked.
A lot.
Margot moaned something, but he didn’t pay attention to it.
He paid attention to her gorgeous body instead. He lavished that first nipple with attention, testing the lush, perfect shape of the other with his hand.
Then he switched places, and as he did, he learned her responses, her taste. The way she writhed beneath him, shifting her legs and lifting her hips. She slid down off her elbows and arched her back, offering him more of her.
More access. More of those hot little noises.
More.
But it got even better when she lifted her hands and sank them into his hair, not to stop him or guide him, but as if she couldn’t help herself.
And after a while, Thor could feel the ache of his own need edging toward pain in his cock. But he didn’t hurry anything along. He explored her, reveling in his own delayed gratification.
Because his ornery American was giving herself to him, and he wanted to marinate in every single moment of it.
He moved from those velvety nipples down to her soft belly, where he amused himself with that belly ring of hers and her shuddery responses. He tested the span of her hips with his hands, and when he was tempted to bury his face between her legs and drink her down, he thought better of it.
For the moment.
He flipped her over onto her belly instead.
She made a low sound as he crawled up onto the bed and dropped down closer to her. He set his mouth behind her ear, then made his way to the nape of her neck.
He found that he could make her squirm.
And he did.
Thor followed a meandering path down the length of her spine, then made her shiver and buck a little when he found the sweet curve of her ass.
He let his thumbs graze that dark furrow and the sweeter heat beneath, but he didn’t go deep.
He didn’t know why he was restraining himself until she made a low, hot sound of protest. He grinned, then nipped at her nape, using his teeth lightly until she was shuddering all over again.
Only then did he turn her over yet again.
He ran his hands along her legs, enjoying the play of her quads and her calves. He found her ankles and then lifted her, draping her legs over his shoulders.
Margot was breathing fast then.
Heavy, hard.
And there was a wildness, a glorious heat, in her gaze that hadn’t been there before.
He held her ass in his hands again, levering her up off the bed so she was at an angle.
And it was impossible not to notice that she was exactly the right size, scaled to fit him perfectly. He could lift her. He could play with her. And soon enough, he would be so deep inside her it would feel like coming home.
Thor was actually shaking a little, he wanted to fuck her so badly.
“I want to lick you until you scream,” he told her, and his voice was gruff. He felt so greedy and insane with need. “It’s my preferred version of a handshake.”
“Oh my god.”
“I am named for a god, it is true. Are you calling out my name, Professor? Or is that a prayer for deliverance?”
She sucked in a breath that sounded like a moan and writhed in his grip. Her hair was spread out around her, a bright tangle on the bed.
“Why are you talking about it?” she demanded, her eyes too dark and too gold, and furious. Thor could relate. “Why don’t you just do it?”
“If you want me to do something, Margot,” he told her, clipped and dark, “you need to ask for it. By name.”
CHAPTER THREE
MARGOT’S ENTIRE BODY was rioting.
Everything seemed connected. Her breath. Her pulse. The wild heat that stormed through her and made her want to do things she couldn’t even name—things she’d never thought she’d have the slightest interest in before tonight.
Before Thor.
She didn’t understand what had happened. One moment she’d been in complete control. She’d been aware that he was baiting her, but that had been fine. She’d had more than a little anxiety about what she was planning to do, and the fact that Thor kept challenging her helped. She’d undressed as she wished, making certain that the entire exercise felt like what it was: work.
Then everything had shifted, rendering her something like drunk when she’d barely tasted her wine. But that was how it felt. The imposing walls of this penthouse of his had seemed to slip and slide, and the heated floor beneath her feet had seemed to buckle.
It was something about that arctic blue gaze of his and the way he fixed it on her, as if he didn’t care what that kind of intense focus might tell her about him. It was the way he’d stayed there, low before the fire as if he didn’t hum with all that lethal energy and had done nothing but...watch.
Even thinking about it made her shudder where he held her, lifted up and off the bed though her shoulders were still pressed into the mattress.
And Thor was still dressed.
Somehow that made it all hotter. Dirtier. He was fully clothed while she writhed about, flushed red and naked and wide-open to him.
Imagining what she must look like to him made her shudder again, perilously close to another wild shattering.
“I don’t beg,” she panted out at him, trying to force a little more air into her chest.
The look on his face was too wicked to name.
“If you say so. But I did not ask you to beg. Just ask me for what you want, Margot. Ask me, or I will simply hold you here. Like this. Forever.”
She believed him. She wasn’t sure why, because it didn’t make any sense that he would actually do something as ridiculous as what he’d threatened when the entire point of them being here was to have sex. Not stand around in odd positions.
But the truth was that her body didn’t find anything about Thor ridiculous.
Not one thing. Not even his sensual threats.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows again. She told herself she was uncomfortable, that she was cold and in a strangely angled position—but even if that was true, she couldn’t say she cared much.
Thor’s hands were big like the rest of him, and he held her ass securely as if he really could do it forever. She felt almost as if he was burning her, his palms were so hot.
And her pussy was so wet it occurred to her that she ought to be embarrassed.
She told herself she wasn’t, but a kind of electric shame flashed through her, telling her what a liar she was.
“I don’t understand,” she managed to say, though she could hardly hear her own voice over the roaring in her ears.
“You do.”
“I don’t see why I have to perform for you.”
“You can either own your sexual desires or you can deny them,” Thor said, that voice of his like gravel though it rolled through her like some kind of honey, pooling in all the dark places inside her she’d never acknowledged. “But only one of those things is going to get you off.”
Something was building inside Margot then. It felt much too intense. It felt much too close, too scary—
But this is sex, she told herself. It’s just sex.
And sex wasn’t scary. It was sometimes awkward, or messy, or better in theory than in practice because penises never behaved as advertised and her own orgasm was often hard to chase down, but it wasn’t scary.
Besides, she was here for research purposes. And there was nothing scary about research. Why was she psyching herself out?
“Put your mouth on me,” she blurted out, and it was as if she’d stuck her hands into an electrical socket. Everything went white-hot inside her, all over her, until even her breath felt edgy. Raw.
“Where?” Thor’s voice was stern. Implacable.
“I can’t...”
“If you can’t name it, Margot, how can you truly enjoy it?”
“This is no time for philosophy.”
He didn’t relent. “Where, Professor? Where do you want my mouth?”
She was wide-open before him. He was lifting her off the bed as if he was prepared to serve himself a taste of her—and she was bright and hot and shuddery at the very idea. Her pussy was melting and wild, with a dangerous pulse all its own.
And it wasn’t as if the rest of her was any better.
Margot pressed her elbows down against the mattress beneath her. Her hands were in fists against the comforter. She was tense and needy, sensations she’d never felt in her life shivering through her again and again.
“Between my legs,” she whispered, because she had to know.
She had to know what it would feel like.
On some level she was appalled with herself for failing, yet again, to be as explicit as he’d been. Since when had she become so prudish? She was an academic. Not some sheltered adolescent tucked away in a convent somewhere, unable to form dirty words without imagining she’d be struck down from on high.
But she couldn’t seem to make herself say any of the words she might have used. She couldn’t seem to force herself to be more specific.
Thor shifted. He bent toward her, and her hips lifted of their own accord, but all he did was press his lips against the inner slope of one thigh.
“Is that what you mean?” he asked, and she could feel the words against her tender skin, as if he was tattooing them there with his own lips. As if there was no part of her he wouldn’t mark. “I am between your legs, am I not?”
Another wave of heat swept over her. It even pricked at the backs of her eyes, and Margot was suddenly horrified at the notion she might actually cry.
Even more so that she would do it in front of Thor.
Here, while she was supposedly researching Icelandic sex traditions.
She didn’t understand how he could be doing these remarkably physical things to her, but her body seemed to want to process them as emotions.
Too many emotions to bear.
Margot didn’t want to understand.
But she was too hot. She felt raw and exposed, and greedier than she’d ever imagined she could feel. About anything.
It was as if she had never wanted before in all her life.
As if everything before this moment was pale. Insubstantial. As pointless as a single candle against the howling blizzard outside.
But she told herself that was the point.
She was here to try to understand this land of fire and ice in the most intimate way possible. The way the locals did.
“My...pussy,” she forced herself to say, and managed to get the word out without stuttering like a child. “I want your mouth on my pussy, Thor. Please.”
If he noticed that she’d come perilously close to begging after all, he didn’t mention it. She felt his mouth curve, there against the soft inside of her thigh. Then he lifted his head and that was worse. Or better.
He looked like some kind of god. Old-world and elemental. Fierce and uncompromising, and entirely bent on destruction.
Margot had never wanted so badly to be destroyed in all her life.
“Your wish is my command,” he told her, his voice dark and lazy, with an edge to it that made her wonder a little bit wildly what it would be like to choose to follow his commands.
In the sorts of very specific ways she imagined he practiced nightly in his own, personal dungeon.
He adjusted the way he held her, and she thought he would take the opportunity to make more challenging remarks. To draw this out even further—
But instead he bent and set his mouth there where she needed him the most.
He didn’t simply lick into her.
He ate at her.
Thor growled as he feasted on her sodden, tender flesh, then sucked on her clit until she bucked.
He was greedy. Thorough. Impossibly hot. He went back and forth, keeping her on edge and unable to predict what he’d do next—
When the first wave hit her, it seemed to come from nowhere. Margot felt herself stiffen and then the ripples spread, getting more and more intense by the second, until she was jerking against his hold.
And Thor didn’t stop.
He rode out her orgasm, as if he wanted to eat it whole, too. And something about that image made it worse—or made it more intense—and so it went on and on and on.
But so did he.
Margot thought she had stopped coming, or maybe it was one long orgasm with no beginning and no end, a rise and a fall and then a lush sweep right back into it all over again.
She went from peak to peak, rolling over and over, until she lost all awareness of herself. She didn’t care if she was too bright, too red. She didn’t care that she’d locked her legs around his neck, that she was arched up off the bed in total abandon or that she was grinding her pussy into his mouth.
All she cared about was this. Sensation after sensation, chasing each other toward something bigger. Brighter.
Too wild to name.
Eventually, the storm blew itself out.
Or he decided it had. Margot couldn’t tell.
Thor pulled her legs from around him and settled her back on his bed, smiling a little as if he knew exactly how limp and wrung out she was.
Margot couldn’t breathe. And the crazy part was, she didn’t much care about that the way she knew she had before.
He straightened and stood there over her, and her heart pounded all over again as she stared up at that hard, wicked mouth of his. It was as if he was still pressed against her, his tongue and his teeth and that jaw of his driving her into madness.
How could it be that he didn’t even have to do it again? That the memory of what he’d just done pushed her toward that edge all over again...
Margot felt dizzy, but she didn’t want to analyze it.
It was easier to look at him instead. So big. So tall. Every inch of him a conquering Viking, packed with hard muscle, that tousled dark blond hair, and those gleaming blue eyes of his that burned wherever they touched her.
And he’d told her to ask for what she wanted, so she did.
“I want your clothes off,” she told him, and her heart was still beating too hard, so she couldn’t pay attention to how strange she sounded. How unlike herself. “Now.”
Thor’s mouth didn’t move. But she could see the hard sort of smile in the blue of his eyes. He inclined his head and then stretched out his arms to the sides as if he was surrendering.
But she didn’t think either one of them believed he was doing anything of the kind.
His eyes were the bluest she’d ever seen. “Do as you like.”
It was couched as an invitation. So there was no reason it should have felt like an order.
But there was that fever in her, making it impossible for Margot to care about feelings. Not when she was still so wet and greedy.
Not when she still wanted him more than she wanted her next breath.
And the fact that she had never felt that way before—about anyone she’d ever been with or any sex she’d ever thought about having—
Margot couldn’t let herself go there.
There were too many precipices littered about and she wanted no part of any of them. Not if considering their danger might make her rethink what she was doing.
She didn’t want to rethink it. She didn’t want to think.
Margot pushed herself up to kneel before him, and a little throbbing thing shook itself awake in a distinct sort of feminine pleasure at the fact he still towered over her.
Something in her shouted that it wasn’t right to like this feeling. This strangely compelling sensation that she was small where he was so large, fragile where he was tough, everywhere—
Margot ignored it.
She pushed up the fine, soft T-shirt he wore and worked it over those massive shoulders of his. And her reward was that when she did, his chest was right there before her. His skin was hot to the touch. And he smelled so good it made her eyes water and her belly tighten.
She didn’t care if it was right or wrong or what she ought to feel when she followed an urge she didn’t recognize and bent forward, pressing her open mouth to the hollow between his pectoral muscles.
But he still wasn’t naked and Margot was running out of patience. And nerve. Her fingers felt too big, too clumsy when she wanted to take her time. She wanted to explore every fascinating ridge of his abdomen and all those smooth, heavy muscles that gleamed in the firelight, but there was that dark need deep inside her, winding itself tighter and tighter.
