Adrianna's Undies (11 page)

She kept meeting thrust after rough thrust, but she also managed to reach one hand up between her legs to stroke her clit. Ah yes, finally!

But Tristan knocked her hand away!

At her indignant roar, he said, “I’ll do it, damn it!” Then he reached around her waist and sank his large fingers directly into the upper folds of her cunt.

“Oh! Oh God, yes!” It felt so good—the hot pleasure spiraling instantly through her body, more satisfying—
leading
someplace—than anything she’d felt in the last hour.

Tristan continued to drive into her moisture just as hard even as he swirled two fingertips expertly over the deprived, swollen nub that so badly needed attention. She yowled her delight—not by choice but pure reaction—as the pleasure buffeted her, filling her entire body. A mere few seconds after it started, she felt it rising, spreading so rapidly through her that she knew it wouldn’t take long. And then he was pinching at her clit, pulling on it. And she sensed the hot nub being caught between his first two fingers and twisted, drawn outward, making her crazed, until—Jesus God, the climax rushed through her like a freight train.

“
Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!
” She screamed out as every pore in her body contracted with intense, pulsing pleasure, a “bodyquake” whose epicenter was her pussy. She writhed rhythmically, meeting his fingers in front, his cock in back, as pure, unsullied physical joy assaulted her. “Oh…oh yes…oh fuck,” she whispered as the shock waves eased but still left small “aftershocks” to course through her limbs.

And then she collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, coming down to rest in the cradle of sweet, blessed relief.

“I hope you don’t think we’re done here,” Tristan snapped behind her, and she was just starting to catch her breath as he used one strong hand, placed at her bare hip, to roll her over onto her back.

She lay peering up at his masculine beauty, still a bit dazed, recovering from one of the wildest orgasms she’d ever known. “What?”

“You wanted to fuck, honey—well, we’re going to fuck!”

Even now, that fast, her pussy flinched at the promise. She no longer wanted to be his submissive slave, but she liked the idea that they were going to fight now, going to struggle—since she’d been wanting to fight with him since he’d first come into her office. “
Then fuck me
,” she said, lying back on the bed in front of him with her legs spread wide.

His gaze dropped hotly to her cunt right before he plunged his cock back in. They both grunted from the grand intrusion and Adrianna simply lay there taking it in, meeting his hot strokes and enjoying every second of it. “Harder! Deeper!” she demanded. And oh God, that felt good, to just be able to tell him what she wanted.

He complied—she wasn’t sure she’d ever been fucked quite so hard as he was fucking her now. She curled her fingers into the bedcovers on either side of her to try to find some purchase, some leverage against the drives of that big cock that felt as if it reached to impossible lengths inside her. She cried out at each thrust and so did he. She became aware that they were both sweating, panting, lost in the sex, lost in that strange struggle for power they’d always seemed to share. He gripped her ass tight as he maintained the hot, hard rhythm.

Finally, she tired of him being on top and decided it was damn well her turn. So she gathered her remaining strength, then grabbed onto his forearms and turned
him
over in the bed. Only there wasn’t enough bed for that and the move knocked him to the floor—and he dragged her down with him. She landed half on his lap; he lay sprawled across the carpet. “Shit,” he muttered, but she didn’t apologize because she wasn’t sorry.

He managed to sit up, propping his back against the window wall next to the bed. Behind him, all of Las Vegas twinkled and shimmered in the crisp, clear black of night. Adrianna sat up, moving to straddle him even as he reached for her. His cock stood majestic and gleaming between them and she wanted it just as much as she ever had.

His hands found her ass again. She poised herself atop the column of steel. He pushed her down just as she chose to impale herself on it. Again, they both groaned at the marvelous impact. “Oh God,” she rasped. “So big.”

“Ride it,” he said, breathless. “Ride me hard.”

One more command from Tristan that she followed, enthusiastically.

Oh Lord, he felt extra big inside her in this position, but she loved it—despite the enormity of his shaft, she didn’t think she could ever get enough of it. She moved up and down, putting all her weight on it, relishing the insane feeling that he must be stretching her cunt to an impossible size.

She muttered, “Oh God,” and “Oh
baby
,” and “Oh
fuck
, that’s good.”

He talked dirty, telling her how warm and wet she was, how nasty hot, what a dirty little cunt she had.

They moved together, sometimes in unison, sometimes in more of that struggling fashion, as if they battled each other somehow.

“I want the vibrator—where’s the vibrator?” she asked at some point.

They both looked around and saw that it had fallen, along with half the covers, when she’d knocked them off the bed. She reached for it, turned it on, eased the tip down over her clit and sighed with hot delight.

But Tristan snatched it out of her hand. “No,” he said sharply. “You might have started this, but I’m fucking finishing it!”

And with that, he reached around behind her to find her anal opening and slowly began to insert the buzzing toy. She sucked in her breath, went still. Um. Oh God. With his huge cock already in her cunt, the sensation was unbelievable. But she didn’t fight him, not this time. Her thoughts were drawn back to something she’d said earlier—
Whatever you want, I want.

She wanted to feel this for
her
. And for
him
. She’d wanted that vibrator on her clit, for another super-powered orgasm—but this, this was even more intense than that, more heady.

Her fingernails curled into the flesh of his shoulders as the vibrator pushed deeper, deeper in her ass. She met his gaze and bit her lip. She couldn’t read his thoughts, but only knew, in her soul, that they were good together like this. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t sweet, and it wouldn’t last longer than the night, but in this moment, they were good together, they were pleasuring each other, and she was glad he’d walked so unceremoniously back into her life.

“Is it good?” he asked. The double penetration, he meant, not them.

It was
so
good that she could barely form words. “Unh. Mmm.” She managed to nod.

Then bit her lip again as she resumed moving on him. She shut her eyes—she had to. A ragged moan tore from her throat as the sensations, like so much already tonight, vibrated through every inch of her body. She clawed at his chest as she fucked him. He balanced her hip with his free hand, the other gently working the vibrator.

Moving against him, the front of her body against his, it didn’t take long. Anal stimulation added to clitoral sensations always pushed her right over the edge. “Oh—God!” she cried as the tidal wave of orgasm washed over her. It rocked her body, it made her sweat through every pore. Every cell sizzled as more strangled sobs left her. It was like being transported, lifted to some other plane even as she stayed acutely aware of exactly where she was, who she was with and what she was experiencing with him.

As her orgasm finally faded, she felt the vibrator slip from her ass and realized Tristan was starting to come too. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, then gripped her hips almost painfully tight as he thrust upward, physically lifting her body from the floor, once, twice, three miraculous times. “Fuck,” he whispered. Then, “Oh fuck, honey,” as his strokes eased, stilled.

They both leaned inward at the same time, their foreheads touching. Everything was quiet. The world stopped spinning.

For just a moment. Until Adrianna remembered all that had transpired.

The last part, all the true fucking, had taken place only because she’d demanded it of him.

Which meant she’d lost the game. And the company.

And no matter how good that fucking had been, she knew Tristan well enough to know he took business seriously and was a man of his word, for the good or the bad. He would proceed with the takeover attempt.

Slowly, gingerly, Adrianna eased off his wet cock, watching it fall against his belly, and pushed to her feet in the stripper heels he’d put on her. Feeling defeated inside for more reasons than she could easily list at the moment, she spoke quietly. “Congratulations, you win.”

Then she turned and went to find the bathroom.

Tristan lay, tired and spent,
feeling
the evening he’d just shared with Adrianna. She was amazing. And insufferable. The perfect slave girl. And the perfect dominatrix. All in one short night.
Too
short. He wanted to fuck her some more—hard, brutal. He wanted to punish her for so many things, present and past. He wanted to tell her he still loved her.

But he was simply too tired to do any of those things.

* * * * *

Adrianna went to the bathroom, barely noticing the luxury of her surroundings, much more cognizant of the fact that Tristan hadn’t used a condom. Since lots of casual sex demanded lots of
safe
sex, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with a man not wearing a rubber for the actual penetration part. As she’d walked in here, it had felt messy and raw…and real.

Resting on the toilet, she unstrapped her shoes and let them fall off. She unhooked the corset all the way down and let it drop to the tiled floor as well. Finally, she reached up to untie the snug choker at her neck, leaving one more piece of sexual debris on the bathroom floor. Game over. Officially.

When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, naked, that’s exactly how she felt—inside and out. Her hair was a mess—tumbling all around her shoulders. She saw a bruise starting to color a spot on her right thigh. Her eyes looked tired. She appeared exactly as she was—a woman who’d just engaged in rough, kinky sex and hadn’t come out of it happy. Of course, the sex itself had been…strange and phenomenal, torturous and grand. And a woman could hardly complain about three screaming, trembling orgasms. It was the end result that had left her feeling so beat up.

She thought about taking a shower, but the sad truth was, she wasn’t quite ready to wash the sex—or Tristan—off her.

When she walked back into the bedroom, she wasn’t sure what she’d find. Would Tristan shove her loss down her throat? Or would he be his more professional self, treating this like one more successful business deal? Or maybe he’d want more kinky sex—maybe he’d try to negotiate.

But she was done negotiating. She simply hadn’t the mental—or now, physical—energy for any more right now.

Taking a deep breath, she exited the bathroom naked—to find that Tristan had crawled beneath the covers and appeared fast asleep.

She had no idea what time it was—the middle of the night. She desperately wanted to put on her clothes and go, leaving all of this behind her as much as she could—for now anyway—but she was exhausted. Her limbs ached from being tied. Her mind ached due to going from strong woman to slave and back again over the course of one mere night. She didn’t feel like navigating Las Vegas Boulevard or making the drive to her house.

So she simply walked to the opposite side of the bed from where Tristan lay and slipped under the blankets, being sure to keep ample distance between their bodies and turning her back to him. Then she reached for the lamp beside the bed and extinguished the lights so only the glow from the neon Strip outside tossed shadows across the room. It was mere moments before sleep took her.

When she awoke, the room felt still, somehow more peaceful. It was not yet morning, but the glow from outside could trick a person into believing daylight was right around the corner. Tristan’s body spooned hers.

God, he was warm. And his touch felt…safe. She hated that because she knew it was, like so much in this town, an illusion.
Don’t let yourself be fooled. Don’t go soft
.

She couldn’t go back to sleep like this, as if it were normal to have his body cocooning hers, as if everything were okay between them—because it definitely wasn’t. She rolled to her back and looked up to find his eyes on hers in the dimness.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to demand that you fuck me. I was just…”

“I know,” he said, voice low and almost tender. “You were just being you.” Then he sighed, sounding sad. “Adri, why is it that you can’t
ever
give up control, even for a night?”

Adri
. He’d called her that in college, a pet name, mainly in sweet moments, mainly in bed. She tried not to let herself feel the places it took her.

“I did for a while. Honestly,” she claimed, and it was true. She’d genuinely given herself over to him for certain portions of the evening. “I just fucked up in the end.”

His voice deepened slightly. “When you were submitting,
really
submitting, what did it feel like? Be honest.” He lay on his side, head propped on one elbow, peering down at her.

Adrianna took a deep breath.
Be honest
. “It felt…surprisingly good. I…” She shook her head. “I never knew. That it could feel that way.”

“I needed to show you.”

“Why?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Because I’ve spent the last fifteen years fantasizing about having you that way.”

She hadn’t seen that coming. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re really into the dominant thing now, huh?”

He shook his head. “Not so much. Sometimes. But mainly, it was just something I wanted to do with
you
.”

Another
thing she hadn’t seen coming. It made her feel at once cherished and persecuted. “Why?” she asked again.

“Because you’re so strong and tough everywhere else. Always—then and now. I just wanted to make you give it all up to me in bed, all of it. I never had that with you back when we were young. The sex was great, but we always both wanted to be on top.” He paused, laughed, and despite herself, she giggled a bit too. Yet then his voice went serious again. “Why
was
that, Adrianna? Why are you so afraid to give up control—anywhere?”