Dying to Please Read online

  He swore and slid down her body, removing temptation from her reach. “Damn, you can't give up, can you?” he muttered. “I said not yet.”

  “Sadist.” She couldn't lie still; desire rode her like an unbearable itch, an implacable hunger. Her body moved under him, dancing its need, calling to him with her open thighs and the hot scent of her body.

  “More like a masochist.” He kissed his way down her throat, over the slope of her breast, then clamped his mouth over one tight nipple and strongly sucked at it. Electricity arced from breast to loins, bowing her upward; he slipped his left arm around her hips and held her in that position as he moved to her other breast.

  He wasn't being gentle with her. The pressure of his mouth verged on pain, but it wasn't quite there, teetering on that exquisite edge between pain and pleasure. Just as it began to tilt over the edge, he moved, sliding down her torso, kissing and nipping. His tongue probed her shallow navel, and a surprised cry burst from her throat, her body arching again. God, he was going to make her come just by kissing her navel. But then he was gone from there, too, his mouth sliding lower as he smoothed his free hand over her hips and abdomen, before slipping it between her legs.

  Yes. There. That was what she wanted, almost. She squirmed against his hand, but he just held it there, covering her with his palm, letting her feel the heat and strength. Her hips lifted, riding a wave of painful anticipation. She wanted his fingers inside her, she wanted his mouth on her.

  “Do it,” she gritted, pushing herself against his hand. “Please!”

  He gave a low, raw laugh, his head pressed against her inner thigh and his breath hot on her flesh. With his thumb he probed her, dragging it up the closed folds of her labia and opening them so he could see all of her. She panted, her head tossing back and forth on the mat as he circled her clitoris, teasing it to fullness. Just when she thought she'd scream in frustration, he closed his mouth on her and his tongue began circling and flicking as he dragged his thumb down and pressed it deep inside.

  Desperately she grabbed the pipe behind her and held on. Spots swam in front of her eyes and her entire body bucked as she came. She heard her own hoarse cries, but they sounded distant, as if someone else made them. For a long, magic moment nothing existed but her body and the firestorm of sensation as her inner contractions peaked, then slowly began to ebb. Her thighs had been clenched around his head but now her legs fell limply open.

  He was licking her.

  At first the leisurely caresses were soothing. She made a little humming sound of pleasure as his tongue probed her entrance. But the probing and licking continued, and the glorious lassitude began to fade, replaced by a familiar heat and tension. “What are you waiting for?” she gasped, twisting a little.

  “I want you ready again.” Gently he blew on her, his breath cool on her overheated flesh.

  “I am ready!” The need had rebuilt so fast she was breathless.

  “Not quite,” he murmured, gently catching her clitoris between his teeth, then torturing her with lightning flicks of his tongue. She groaned under the lash of pleasure, but as good as this felt, she wanted more. She wanted him inside her. Now.

  “Just a little closer,” he crooned, slipping his thumb inside her again. Then he replaced his hand with his mouth and he kissed her, deeply, his tongue probing, while his wet thumb moved farther down and pushed into her in a bold, shocking thrust that made stars explode in her head. She came again, convulsing, screaming, trying to fight him because the sensations were too sharp to be borne. He held her down, drawing out the moment, holding her at the peak.

  Finally she collapsed, trembling, her ears ringing as she struggled to find some measure of control.

  “Damn it,” he said, slow and deep, as he moved up her limp body. “There's no way in hell I can wait until you're ready again.”

  She didn't care. She was beyond caring, beyond even opening her eyes as he positioned himself between her legs and guided his penis to her wet entrance, then began sinking into her.

  Oh God oh God. Sarah pressed her head hard against the mat, forcing herself to breathe deeply. He was big enough that his penetration wasn't easy; if she hadn't been so wet from two climaxes, so utterly relaxed, taking him would have been painful. As it was, though, their fit was perfect, so perfect that tears sprang to her eyes. She was tight around him; he was deep within her. He pushed one more time and he was there, touching a place inside her that, impossibly, rekindled the heat of desire. She hadn't thought she could climax again, but as he began to thrust she realized differently. The heat inside her began to grow, became hunger, lifting her body to him.

  He held her legs wide and hammered into her, driven now by his own blind urgency. Every inward stroke forced her closer and closer to that moment when the tension would become too much, when the heat was scalding and nerve endings couldn't endure any more. He thrust harder and harder, their loins slapping together, and she was almost there, almost there, almost . . .

  He came, his powerful body bowing and bucking, shuddering, pumping. Hoarse, rough cries tore from his throat as he gripped her hips and pulled her groin tight against him. Then, slowly, he collapsed on top of her.

  A small, wild sound vibrated in her throat. Almost . . . there.

  She needed him to move, needed him deeper. Frantically she tugged at the handcuffs. “Take them off,” she panted.

  “Wha—” He didn't lift his head. His entire body was shaking, a fine tremor from muscles taxed to the limit.

  “The handcuffs.” She could barely speak; her voice was guttural. She surged upward, seeking the final touch that would send her over the edge. He was still hard, still inside her, but she needed him deeper, wanted him deeper. “Take them off.”

  “God,” he gasped. “Give me a minute.”

  “Now!” she shrieked, maddened by the completion that lurked just out of her grasp. She fought the cuffs like a madwoman. “Take them off!”

  “All right, just hold still!” He subdued her, holding her down as he got the key from under the edge of the mat where he'd stashed it. He stretched higher on her body as he reached for the cuffs, forcing his penis deeper, and something very close to a howl erupted from her throat. Alarmed, afraid he'd injured her, he hastily unlocked the handcuffs and started to draw back from her.

  Sarah lunged upward, locking her legs around his in a vise as she grabbed his ass and pulled him in tighter, as deep as she could take him. There, right there—ah! Her hips pumped as she pistoned herself on him, and she felt the peak coming closer . . . closer . . . She screamed, caught in an orgasm more intense than the others, so intense she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see. She heard him make an inhuman sound; then he was thrusting hard, groaning, his arms locked around her as he began coming again.

  She either passed out or slept; she wasn't certain which. Slowly she became aware of the whisper of cool air on her damp skin, of the mat sticking to her naked body, of the man sprawled so heavily on top of her. His heaving breaths had slowed to a more normal pace, telling her that at least a few minutes had passed. The sticky moisture of his semen had seeped out of her to pool uncomfortably beneath her bare bottom.

  Was he asleep? She managed to lift her arm and touch his shoulder. He stirred and turned his head so his face pressed into the curve of her neck. “God,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “That's the first time I've ever come twice with one hard-on. It damn near killed me.”

  That was such a guy thing to say that she smiled. She would have laughed if she'd had the energy, but the fact was, she was damn near dead herself.

  Slowly, every movement an effort, he levered himself off her and collapsed by her side. He lay on his back with his arm covering his eyes, breathing deeply. After a minute he cursed. “Please tell me you're on the pill.”

  “I'm on the pill,” she parroted obediently.

  He groaned, long and heartfelt. “Fuck.”

  This time she did laugh, though it was a little weak. “No, I real