Suck and Blow: Party Games, Book 1 (12 page)

BOOK: Suck and Blow: Party Games, Book 1
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I did
, she acknowledged, but only in her head, unwilling to stop feasting on his flesh. It was rock hard under her tongue, and his groans were so raw, so carnal. He hung above her, and she sensed his stare on her face as she continued to suck. She knew any moment now he would carry out his promise. She’d moved. He would smack her—but until he did, until his hand found her arse, she wanted nothing more than to feel him in her mouth and have his groans of rapture caress her senses.

She slid her mouth to his other nipple and he let her, his cock nudging her hip as he pressed one lean, muscled thigh to her sex. Fingers of wet electricity jolted through her at the unexpected pressure on her clit, and she bucked her hips upward, her hands flying to his shoulders.

Damn it, even when she was defying him he was in control of her body.

And that’s the way you want it, isn’t it?

Yes. It was. Every molecule in her body needed him. Needed him with her, inside her. Needed his cock in her sex, his breath in her lungs, his scent in her nose…

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, cupping the back of her head to hold her mouth to his chest. “That feels so damn good.”

He was right. It did. His nipple in her mouth, under her tongue, his body pressed to hers, his pre-come on her skin…it all felt so goddamn good. So goddamn
right
.

Without warning, and with a fluid grace that made Frankie shiver, Alec pulled away from her, breaking her worship of his nipple with a soft
pop
before flipping her onto her stomach.

Exquisite shards of anticipation jolted through her. Brilliantly tight ribbons of excitement shot over her nerve endings to knot in her sex. She squeezed her backside, her flesh already on fire as he hooked his hands under her hips, jerked her arse up off the bed, and held her in the slightly elevated position with one arm as he smoothed his hand over her right cheek.

“Christ, your arse is…”

He didn’t finish. Instead, his palm found her flesh in a stinging slap.

Her reaction was instant and explosive. Pleasure erupted through her, tearing her cry from her throat. It hurt. It burned.

It felt so fucking good.

She fisted her hands on the duvet, pushing her backside higher.

He smacked her again. And again. And with each slapping blow, with each stinging kiss of his palm on her flesh, her pain became something she couldn’t describe. Or fathom.

Something far beyond any she believed possible.

Her pussy flooded with cream and she wriggled in Alec’s hold. “Oh God,” she moaned, eyes shut, fists bunched by her head. “I need to come. Make me come, Alec.”

 

Alec stared at the bright red print of his hand on Frankie’s smooth, toned arse cheek. He’d never smacked a lover before. Hadn’t even considered it. But at the sight of his handprint branded on her flesh, his cock throbbed. Jesus, did that make him a sadist?

No. It doesn’t. With this woman, with Frankie, there are no inhibitions or hang-ups. And if she wanted to smack you you’d let her. Gladly. You’d stick your arse in the air and—

“Please, Alec.” Her shaky plea jerked his gaze to her profile. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted as she panted and squirmed on the bed. “Make me come now.”

“With my hand?” He smacked her once more, a softer slap he felt all the way through his hand and into his swollen balls. Christ, he’d never been so hard.

Frankie shook her head against the duvet with a sharp hiss. “No.”

“With my mouth?” He twisted, plunging his tongue between her sodden folds. Fresh cream flowed from her pussy into his mouth and he moaned, reveling in the taste of her pleasure. He would never tire of it. Ever. He knew that without doubt or question.

“No,” she moaned, her face etched with what he could only call rapture.

He shifted on the bed, aligning the head of his shaft to the glistening lips of her sex. “Or with my dick?” he asked, parting those lips a little with one slow, steady thrust.

Frankie cried out again, her anus constricting.

“Tell me, Frankie,” he commanded, teasing her pussy with the head of his cock. She whimpered, new moisture dripping from her folds.

“With your cock,” she all but sobbed. “Please, fuck me, Alec,” she begged, just as he said she would. “Please make me come now.”

Without a word, he climbed from the bed, crossed to the oak chest of drawers behind him and yanked open the top one to withdraw a condom. His cock was an agonizing rod jutting upward from balls just as painful, both filled with the urgent need to feel Frankie’s tight heat, her hot flesh on his. One day soon he would bury himself in her sweetness without a condom, but for now…well, that thin film of latex was his only hope to last longer than one single thrust.

He ripped the condom packet open and, breath held, jaw bunched, rolled the sheath down the straining length of his dick.

Inside her. Christ, you’re going to be inside her. Again.

And with that gloriously euphoric thought, he climbed back onto the bed, snared Frankie’s hips with his hands and thrust deep inside her, filling her to his balls.

Frankie threw back her head, her spine bowing as she drove herself harder onto his penetration. Her cries and hitching breaths flayed his control just as much as the gripping heat of her inner muscles. She surrounded him, even as he pumped in and out of her cunt, she surrounded him. Overwhelmed him.

She propelled him to a place of heightened sensation and searing response.

The base of his spine tingled, but he denied the release building in his groin. There wasn’t a hope in fucking hell he was going to come yet. Not yet. Being inside Francesca, possessing her, being consumed by her…he wanted to experience the rapture until his last breath burst from his lungs.

He wanted to give her that same rapture.

He thrust deep into her wet heat, leaning against her body to cup one breast with a hard hand. She gasped a ragged, “yes,” and her nipple rubbed at his palm as her breast swung heavy with his strokes. He pulled a harsh hiss, the erotic contact of nipple and hand flooding his cock with fresh blood. How it was that she continued to arouse him while they were so completely joined made his mind fog. That she did made his heart pound.

“Alec,” she moaned, arching her back. She reached between her legs, her fingers finding his swollen balls. She tugged them, sending a flow of dull pain into his groin. It was exquisite. He squeezed his eyes for a moment, riding the sensation as it became concentrated pleasure deep within his very core.

He dragged his mouth over her back, her shoulders, sucking at the side of her neck just beneath her ear, with a hungry ferocity he knew would leave a mark. He didn’t care. She was his and be fucked if he didn’t want the world to know it. His and his alone.

“Oh, yes, Alec,” she moaned, her tight pussy pulsing, gripping his dick with increasing pressure. “Yes…that’s it…that’s it…don’t stop…don’t…stop.”

He pinched her nipple, burying himself as deep in her sex as his body would let him. His balls rose up, their weight still held by Frankie’s hand, growing fuller with each thrust he pounded into her. If he kept going, he would come.

With a low growl, he jerked himself free, pushed her onto her back and silenced her cries of protest with a brutal kiss. He fucked her mouth with his tongue, fighting for control over his body, his hands fisted in her wild hair, his dick grinding into her thigh.

She scraped her nails up and down his back, her legs wrapping around his. She pulled him closer to her, trying to impale herself on his length. He would let her soon. So very soon, but not until she pleaded. Not until he knew she was one thrust away from coming. Like he was.

“Damn you,” she rasped when he dragged his mouth down her throat, arching beneath him. “Make me fucking come already.”

He chuckled, the sound more like a shaky moan. “Impatient much?”

She rolled her head, her hand joining his on her right breast. “Yes.” She closed her fingers, making him knead its full softness with something close to desperation. “Now shut the fuck up and bury that cock of yours in my cunt.”

It was too much. He couldn’t fight her anymore. He couldn’t fight himself anymore either.

He flipped himself onto his back, taking her with him. She let out a startled laugh, her thighs splaying either side of his hips, her hands grabbing at his shoulders as his hands snared her waist. He looked up into her face, saw exactly what was in her soul, her heart and—without need of guidance—he pulled her tightness down over his shaft.

“Fuck, yes!” She snapped upright, taking him deeper still, her nails gouging at his chest. He dug his fingers into her hips, holding her to his body and then pulling her back and forth as he thrust up into her. Her pussy squeezed and sucked on his dick, her cream painting their flesh. He dragged his thumbs over the gun tattoo inked into the curve of her sex before smoothing his hands to her arse cheeks. She lifted slightly off him, as if she knew exactly what he wanted.

“Yes,” she breathed, eyes fluttering closed.

He slipped his fingers closer to her anus. Closer.

“Yes, oh, yes…”

Thrusting up into her drenched folds with his dick, he pressed one finger to the puckered opening of her arse…and inside its tight sheath when she slid deeper down his cock.

“Fuck, Alec!” she cried, head back, eyes closed. “Fuck, yes, yes.”

He couldn’t hold on any more. Not with her pussy sucking at his cock with such hungry heat. Not with her anus ringing his finger with such constricting pressure.

Not when she screamed his name with such unadulterated, sheer need.

He slammed into her, again, again, his finger burying in her arse, his cock pounding into her cunt.

She rode him, took it all, took
him
all. And then, just as Frankie bucked once more with wild, uncontrolled savagery, just as her sex contracted and her release claimed her, Alec lost his tenuous battle with control and came, his seed erupting from him in searing wads, Frankie’s name bursting from him in a tearing groan.

Chapter Seven

Something was making a noise. Something low and muffled. Something that sounded like Axel Rose wailing his way through the chorus of “Welcome to the Jungle”.

Frankie opened her eyes and lifted her head, giving Alec an expectant look from where she lay slumped beside him. “Is that your mobile?”

Alec nodded his head without opening his eyes, his fingers drawing lazy little circles over the base of her spine. “Yep.”

“Are you going to get that?”

He shook his head, his mouth curling at the edges in a small grin. “Nope.”

She chuckled, dropping her head back to the bed and letting out a thoroughly wonderful sigh.

Her body was one languid lump of sheer sexual satisfaction, slicked in a sheen of perspiration and other slightly more sticky bodily fluids. Her pulse still thumped much faster than normal in her throat and her pussy throbbed with the fading aftermath of the most explosive orgasm she’d ever experienced.

She would quite cheerfully stay stretched on her side beside the man responsible for said orgasm until…until…damn, until the need to pee forced to her to move. She wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere, thank you very much, and as far as she could see, neither was Alec.

In fact, she’d just spent the last few minutes doing nothing but lie on his bed, her hand resting on his chest, feeling his heart slowly return to a normal pace under her palm. The complete serenity of it all was nothing like she’d ever experienced. It was deliciously wonderful. The thought of getting up, going and having a shower and shooing him away with a frankly laughable promise to call in a few days—as she did immediately after
all
her sexual interactions—didn’t remotely entice her at all.

She was, for want of a better word, content.

In love? Is that a better word? Or should that be two words? In. Love.

Her heart, almost back to its normal rhythm, kicked up a notch at the wholly unsettling thought. It wasn’t the first time the L word had risen in her mind since finding Alec beside her on the Suck and Blow line back at the party. This time however, she couldn’t deny the legitimacy of its insistent presence.

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, staring at Alec’s profile as the sounds of Guns N Roses cut dead somewhere from the floor. She was pretty certain that’s where his jeans had ended up. She wasn’t really sure, to be honest. The whole undressing thing had happened so damn fast, in such a blur of arms and legs and panting need that she had no real idea where any of their clothing—

Francesca! Stop it! You can’t ignore it forever
.

The mental slap made her bite harder on her bottom lip. She stared at the ceiling, her throat thick.

Romantic love. An outdated emotion, as far as she was concerned, reserved only for those needing a crutch. She’d seen what love had done to Miki—had watched her best friend’s spirit and heart slowly etch away thanks to the love Miki had experienced for her self-centred husband. She’d seen both her parents fall prey to love’s terrible power. First when her dad had cheated on her mum with his secretary—how goddamn clichéd was that?—and then, after months of counseling, when her mum had extracted revenge by fucking the pool boy—again, so clichéd it made Frankie cringe just thinking about it. Full-on romantic love—the kind her rock-star clients sang about, the type her actor clients portrayed on film—was just there for those who didn’t know the only things one needed in life were a fun time, a fast car and a fucking awesome masseur on speed dial.

That had been the adage she’d lived by for as long as she could remember, and she’d had access to a masseur whenever she wanted one since she was fifteen. It had seen her through her adult life and there was no reason it should change.

Right?

What this
thing
with Alec Harris was…well, it wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. She didn’t fall in love. She didn’t
need
love. She had her masseur, she had her fast car and whenever she wanted a fun time she just hit the nightclubs. She didn’t want love.

Did she?

Her gaze moved over Alec’s profile, over his long, thick eyelashes the colour of dark honey, over his high cheekbones and strong nose slightly turned up at the end. Over his defined lips and golden stubble roughing a jaw line far too straight and strong for any woman’s sanity…

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