A Crying Shame (187 page)

Of course, dear. Whatever you say.”

Don't patronize me!”

I wouldn't for the world.”

They lay in the dark silence for a time. She put her soft hand on his flat, hard belly and felt him stir at the touch.

She let her hand rest where it lay, although she was filled with desire and wanted desperately to slide her hand downward and grasp his maleness; to feel it fill and swell under her hand.

The scent of her arousal filled the darkened room and she could feel his breathing quicken as her sexual aroma reached him.

This is much better than talk, anyway,” he said.

Her reply was to slide her hand downward, her fingers encircling his maleness. She stroked him, sliding the foreskin over the swelling glans.

He pulled her closer, bending his head, stroking her skin with his hands. His mouth found a nipple, sucking it to almost painful tautness. His mouth traced wet patterns down her belly and she was forced to relinquish her grasp on his hardness. His tongue licked at her mons veneris, bringing gasps of pleasure from her as it entered the satin darkness of woman.

She entwined her fingers in his hair and pressed his face against her.

He brought her to a first shivering climax with his tongue and finger and then shifted in the bed. She opened her mouth and took him, the head of his hardness almost too large for her to take orally.

It was sixty-nine, the juices flowing and boiling in each of them as they performed the ultimate act of love between man and woman.

Then, with a movement so swift it seemed to her blurred, he shifted and took her brutally, a little pain mixed with the pleasure.

She cried out from surprise and the sudden ache of his penetration. There was no gentleness to his attack, only the abruptness of his intrusion and the hot plunge of him sinking inside her.

Bastard!” she hissed, her breath hot on his cheek. His chuckling infuriated her.

Inches of hard maleness were not all that filled her; a rage swept over her, a determination to meet him and beat him on his own ground, in his own fashion.

This, then, would not be love-making. This would be fucking.

So be it.

Her hands found his buttocks and brought him inside to his zenith, with her unable to suppress the moan that escaped her mouth as he filled her. Her hips slammed upward, meeting his stroke, finding the rhythm and holding the mercenary to it.

She mashed her mouth to his, bruising not only his lips but her own.
You'd better be able to stay with it, hero!” she said in a gasping hiss.

I will,” he replied in that calm assured manner of his, and that angered her with a burst of fury that was almost overpowering in its intensity.

And she went on the attack, lunging at him, both of them combatants in a battle that would have only winners and no losers.

Once, at the conclusion of a long slamming stroke, he slipped from her, and he seized that opportunity to position her, with sheer strength, on her belly, feet on the carpeted floor. She thought for one panicky moment he was going to penetrate her anus, and she fought him. But when she felt the hard hotness once again slide into her wet sheath, she relaxed, although this position was not one she preferred. She felt . . . undignified and out of control of the situation.

Thought I was going to the back door, eh?” He softly laughed at her.
I might . . . later.”

Never!” she hissed at him.

His laughter, soft but slightly derisive, enraged her, but pinned as she was, she had very little movement allowed her.

Let me up,” she said.
I don't like it this way.”