Six Naughty Nights: Love in Reverse, Book 2 (38 page)

“Nice?” he murmured, kissing her neck.

“No.”

“Liar.” He dropped his other hand between her legs and slid his fingers into her. “You’re so wet, baby, you can’t lie to me.”

She cursed and tried to close her legs again, to no avail. “This is so humiliating.”

“I hope so. The best sex always is.” He bit her ear and she squealed. “Watch,” he instructed.

She opened her eyes. He moved her forward a little so he could widen his legs farther, stretching hers apart until there was nothing left to hide. He’d been circling his fingers at the top of her legs, but when he saw her eyes open, he lowered his fingers down into her, and she groaned as he moved them in and out. God, that was sexy, watching him fuck her with his fingers, slow and rhythmically. Every now and again he slid them deep inside her, stroking the front wall of her vagina, and she squirmed and moaned. His hand glistened, coated with her moisture. When he finally raised it, she almost exclaimed a protest.
 

He slid the handle of the toothbrush down her stomach to between her legs.

The vibrations sent tremors all the way through her, little ripples of ecstasy, and she cried out with pleasure. He circled it slowly on her clit, which throbbed in response, and she panted as everything started to tighten.

He lifted the handle. “Steady now. We’re not ready yet.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped, frustrated.

“Later, sweetheart.” He lowered the handle again. “Now, what about this secret?”

“Get lost.”

He pushed the handle lower, right into her soft folds, and she moaned. “Toby…”

“Sir,” he corrected. “Bad girl.” He plucked at her nipple with his other hand, squeezing and stretching it so she squirmed in his arms.

Yet again, though, as she began to clench inside, he lifted his hands and waited until the quivers inside her died away.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and groaned deeply. “I hate you.”

He chuckled in her ear, flicking the toothbrush over her nipples. “Mm. I know.”

She sank her hands into his hair. If she wanted, she could easily lift the scarf over his head and untie the ones around her legs. She wasn’t really a prisoner here. But the sensations were exquisite, and she didn’t really want to move.

He dipped the handle below again to tease her, alternating between that and her nipples, light, tantalising touches, lifting his hands away each time her breathing grew irregular and her thighs tightened.

Eventually he turned off the toothbrush and dropped it behind him. He smoothed his hands over her body as if he were honing wood, brushing down her ribs, over her hips, along her legs.

“Your body’s fucking fantastic,” he murmured, stroking between her legs while he flicked her nipples. “It’s taking all my self-control not to throw you on the bed and take you.”

“Do it,” she begged, aching and throbbing, desperate to have him inside her.

“Oh no.” He lifted a hand to turn her face toward him. Touching his lips to hers, he said, “You still haven’t told me your secret.”

“No, don’t make me,” she begged.

“Tell me.” He played with her nipples, rolling them, tugging and pulling them, and she clenched deep inside. But release remained out of reach all the time he refused to touch between her legs. Or did it? She thought she might come anyway, even though he wasn’t touching her. She was so close.

He rested his hands on her waist. “If you come without telling me your secret, I’ll just start all over again.”

“Toby…”

“What did I tell you about calling me sir?” He pinched her nipples, stretching them until she cried out. She knew nothing about the boundaries between pleasure and pain, had never guessed such torture could be so pleasurable.

“Fuck.” She panted, her mind spinning in a sexual haze. She hardly recognised the writhing, flushed creature in the mirror. “Please…sir… Let me come.”

“No.” He stroked her body, then plucked her nipples again, twisting them gently. “Tell me.”

“I…I can’t…”

He stroked feather-light between her legs, avoiding her swollen clit, then slid his fingers inside her, but didn’t move them. She tried to grind herself against them, but he withdrew them again and sucked casually on them as he met her gaze in the mirror, smirking. Her cheeks burned. The kinky bastard really wasn’t going to let her come until she confided her secret.

She nearly cried. It was time to make up a code word to tell him, a rude word or something. But as she turned her head to look up at him, his eyes were alight with desire and affection, and the truth slipped out before she could stop it.

“I love you.”

His eyes widened. For a brief moment he just stared at her, clearly astonished. He obviously hadn’t expected that.

Then one side of his mouth quirked up. “The torture works,” he said, adjusting the hat. He kissed her cheek, then her mouth. “Come on baby. Come for me.”

He stroked between her legs while playing with her nipple with his other hand. Her orgasm hit, and he slid his fingers deep inside her, pressing on her clit with his thumb. Her muscles pulsed in slow, exquisite waves, and she arched against him, crying out, knowing he was watching her in the mirror, but unable to do anything about it.

Eventually the pulses died away, and he withdrew his fingers and deftly untied the scarves around her thighs and behind her head. She relaxed limply, and he stroked her arms and planted soft kisses on her shoulder and up to her ear as her heart rate gradually slowed.

She closed her eyes, unable to believe she’d told him. But the fact was that she could easily have admitted something else, some personal piece of information that didn’t involve telling him her deepest feelings for him. Deep down, she’d wanted him to know how she felt about him. Because this beautiful night was going to come to an end, and then it would be too late. He had to know, before he found out the even bigger secret she’d kept from him, the one that would destroy any feelings he’d ever had for her.

She nestled against him, content and warm in his arms. His erection continued to press, long and firm, against her lower back, but he made no move on her, bless him, content to wait until she was ready.

She licked her lips and met his gaze in the mirror. Now she’d told him how she felt, it was as if a weight had lifted from her heart. She’d opened fully to him, physically and emotionally, and there was nothing else she could do.

“Right,” she said, wiggling her hips and pressing back. “What did you say about fucking me into Friday?”

Chapter Forty-Five

Toby smiled wryly as Esther squirmed against his erection. He’d had a hard-on for what seemed like hours, and he was desperate to plunge into her. She was incredibly swollen and wet, and he knew it was going to feel like heaven when he eventually slid inside her. But he’d enjoyed teasing her, taking her to the brink.

Her revelation had stunned him, though. He’d thought she was going to tell him some jest about her favourite form of chocolate or something. Instead she’d rocked his world with her declaration, three little words he’d never expected her to say.

In truth, he didn’t know what to make of them. He knew she wanted him, that she desired him, that she enjoyed being with him. But that she loved him? What did it mean? Did she want to stay with him? Be a part of his life? And how did he feel about that?

It wasn’t the right time to talk or even think about it, but he filed it away in his head for later. Now, he just wanted to fill his senses with her—touch, taste, smell her.

He lifted the cap off his head and put it on her. “You’re in charge,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

She lifted a hand to touch his cheek and kissed him. “You can just sit there.”
 

He started to unbutton his shirt, but she shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. “Leave it on,” she said, looking adorable where she stood with hands on hips, wearing only the officer’s cap. He was warm in his clothes, but happy to follow her instructions if it turned her on.

She climbed onto the bed and smiled mischievously. Then she sat astride him—facing away.

His kissed her shoulder as she began to unbutton his pants. “Reverse cowgirl, Miss Tyler?”

“Is that what it’s called?” She giggled and unzipped his fly. Then she pushed down his boxers and freed his erection.
 

She gave him a long, slow stroke, and he groaned and flopped back on the bed. He held her hips as she lifted up, positioned herself above him, then sank slowly down, letting him slide deep within her.

He closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

She chuckled and rocked her hips. “Is that nice, sweetheart?”

He lifted his arms over his head on the bed, enjoying the feeling of being encased in her wet warmth. “It’s fucking unbelievable.”

“Your language is shocking.” She continued to rock her hips, driving him in and out. “I should punish you for that.” She lifted up, letting him slide almost out of her, and teased the tip of him for a moment.

He groaned and shifted on the bed, turning slightly so he could see their reflection. She had a blissful look on her face, her eyes closed, and as he watched she tipped back her head and her hair tumbled between her shoulders.

He let her ride him for a while, enjoying the view, especially when she began to play with her nipples, but it wasn’t enough—he wanted to drive into her.

Holding her by the hips, he lifted her up off him, making her squeal, then sat up and grabbed her by the waist. He turned her effortlessly onto her hands and knees on the bed, stood and stripped, then knelt behind her.

She cast him a remonstrative look over her shoulder. “I thought I was in charge.” She’d knocked the hat and it sat askew on her dark hair.

“Sorry, ma’am.” He guided himself into her. “I lied.” He thrust forward, burying himself deep inside her, and she gasped and clenched around him.

“I’m—wearing—the hat,” she said in between thrusts. “I thought—it gave me—the power.”

“You’ll always have power over me.” He leaned forward and fondled her breasts while he thrust.

“That’s—not what—I meant,” she complained, widening her knees so he could thrust deeper. “Oh…”

“Are you complaining?” He smacked her rump.

“Ouch!”

He laughed and pulled out of her, then got to his feet and drew her up with him. He moved her over to the wall, pushing her up against it with a bump, then took her face in his hands. “You are just sublime, you know that?”

She flushed prettily. “And you’re insatiable tonight.”

“I told you, five ways till Friday.” He put his hands under her butt and lifted her, and before she could say anything, he slid inside her up to the hilt. “That’s position three.”

“Oh my God, Toby Wilkinson, you’ll be the death of me.” She grasped his shoulders as he began to thrust. “Oh dear Lord.”

He kissed her. “You want me to stop?”

“Oh fuck no.”

He laughed and plunged into her, so thoroughly enjoying himself that he didn’t want to stop ever. They were both covered in sweat, and her breathing, like his, was beginning to grow ragged.

He slowed his pace, not wanting them to come just yet. Lifting her off the wall, he carried her over to the bed and lowered her down, still inside her. The hat fell off but she left it, her hair sticking damply to her forehead.
 

He began to move more leisurely, taking the time to enjoy the sensations of her around him. He tasted the sweat between her breasts and kissed her deeply, his tongue playing with hers until her sighs turned to moans and she began to meet him thrust for thrust.

He lifted his head. “Four,” he said.

Her glazed eyes studied him. “And number five?”

“You choose.” He kissed her nose.

“From behind,” she whispered.

He withdrew and turned her over, tucked a pillow under her hips and pushed up her knee. She pulled another pillow down to hug as he slid inside her. They both sighed. Facing the mirror, they had a perfect view, and she turned her head to watch him move behind her.

“You like it this way?” he murmured, nuzzling her neck as he thrust.

“Mmm.” Her eyelids fluttered shut briefly. “I like feeling…”

Her words trailed off and she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“Feeling…” he prompted, moving inside her leisurely.

She turned her face into the pillow. “Nothing.”

“Don’t make me torture you again.” He kissed her ear, tucking his hand underneath her and beginning to stroke her again. “Tell me.”

“Controlled,” she whispered. “I don’t like it outside the bedroom, but here…”

“You like me taking charge.” He parted his fingers, feeling himself sliding in and out of her. Fuck, that was erotic.

“Mmm.” She rested her cheek on the pillow, watching him in the mirror. “Like this it feels so…um…feral.”

“I suppose there’s a reason they call all fours ‘doggy style’,” he said, amused.

“I guess.” She ran a hand up his thigh. “But it’s more than that, it’s…I don’t know. Primeval. I can forget who I am, what I’m supposed to be, when I’m like this with you.”