The Dare Collection March 2019. Rachael Stewart
feelings out of her—
But he wasn’t waiting in breathless anticipation to see what she would do, the way he should have been. Instead, his big hands came up and speared into her curls until he was holding her fast above him.
Making a mockery of her sense of control.
“I don’t know why you put your hair up at all.” His voice was a low, intense rumble that made goose bumps rise all over her skin. “You should keep it down. Always.”
Lucinda opened her mouth to tell him two things. One, that her hair wasn’t professional like this, and two, to stop talking so she could get to work.
But instead, he tugged her down and set his mouth to hers.
And the things he did to her mouth defied such a sweet, adorable little word as kiss.
By the time he was finished, she was shaking, everywhere. And more confusingly, she was on her back with Jason above her, pressing her down into the mattress.
“Wait,” she managed to pant out. “This isn’t how this is supposed to go!”
“Seems right to me,” Jason murmured, his mouth at her neck, and then his cock was right where she wanted it, working its way inside her. Then sliding home.
And she was arching in sheer delight, unable to help herself. She was desperate to rub her breasts against the steel of his chest all over again. Wild to shift her hips so she could take all of him. More of him. Everything.
“I want to be in control,” she threw out there, a shot against the seductive dark greed for him that was pulling her under.
And this time when he let out that laugh of his, dark and deep, she could feel it as if it was a part of her. From his cock so deep inside her to her own hard nipples pressed there against his chest. As if she was part of the laughter, made of it, and humbled by it, too.
It made her pussy clench.
“Yeah, no,” he growled, laughter and something a lot more intense in his voice. “That’s not how I roll.”
And then he proceeded to take her apart.
He used his fingers against her clit to make her come in a rush, sobbing.
Then he flipped her over and took her from behind, forcing her to make fists in the sheets as he slammed into her, over and over, until she was begging him.
To stop. To never stop. To take her with him.
To go on forever.
And when she was limp from yet another impossible rush of an orgasm, like a tornado ripping through her, he gathered her to him yet again. He lifted her hands above her head and pinned them there against the mattress with one of his palms.
And then, astonishingly, he slowed down.
“You might as well come,” she whispered at him, because that was her version of shouting at this point. “I’m done. There’s nothing more in me.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Scotland. You can always come again.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you don’t think you can?”
“I can’t. And I would know, since I’m the only person here who knows my body.”
“That sounds a lot like a challenge.”
And he took his sweet time answering that challenge.
Jason set his mouth to one breast, licking and sucking until she couldn’t help the moans that burst free from the back of her throat. And when he stopped, it was only to shift over to the other breast, then start all over again. Then he let go of her hands as he slowly, slowly made his way down her body as if he had all the time in the world.
As if there was nothing he ever had to do again but taste her. Everywhere.
He settled himself between her legs, pushing her thighs wide to accommodate his shoulders, and the very vastness of him made Lucinda feel shaky all over again.
“Don’t waste your time,” she told him as he bent his head toward her pussy. She shook her head. “That doesn’t do a lot for me.”
“Too bad,” he replied, with that lick of laughter and too much heat in his dark eyes “Because it does a whole hell of a lot for me.”
And in case she hadn’t already gotten the message, when he leaned forward and licked into her, Lucinda discovered that she didn’t know her own body at all.
She’d always found oral sex boring and vaguely embarrassing besides. It was so...clinical yet messy. Men were always so chuffed with themselves that they bothered. They always seemed to want prizes, applause, even more attention for the performance. When most of the time, Lucinda used the time to go over her to-do list. Or contemplate her shopping list. Perhaps wonder if she’d switched off the gas when she’d last cooked a meal.
But when Jason set his mouth to her pussy, it was like a lightning strike.
She felt it like a bolt, so intense that for a second she couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain that seared straight through to every last part of her body. Her toes sang as loudly as her clit, and that was before he started using his tongue.
There was nothing decorous about the way he ate at her, raw and wild, as if this was the meal he had been talking about all along. As if he truly was starving, she was what he wanted for dinner and he by God was going to eat his fill.
She started coming, bucking her hips into his face, but he didn’t stop. He kept going, using some insanely hot combination of teeth and tongue and even his chin. And as if that wasn’t enough, he kept making that dark, growling sound, humming sensation into her.
And she came. And came again.
As if he was magic. As if she’d never actually met herself and he was the expert. And as if, given the opportunity, she could come forever.
And only when her eyes had spilled over, her throat was scraped raw and she’d lost track entirely of where she was and who she was and what plan she’d had for this encounter did he crawl back up the length of her body, dropping kisses wherever he went like he was staking his claim on her flesh.
Lucinda wasn’t sure she minded if he did.
Only then did he thrust inside her again, raw and savage and finally as out of control as she was.
And she was coming again, or she was still coming, and then he was coming with her, and it was like flying.
Like a wave that never ended, rolling and hurtling a blue and beautiful rush, straight on to the horizon.
It felt like forever.
Which was how Lucinda knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she’d made a critical error of judgment where Jason Kaoki was concerned—and a terrible mistake.
LUCINDA WOKE UP the way she always did, in a sudden, panicked rush. As if, should she be expected to fight in the next instant, she would be ready—
Except she’d already fought and lost.
That unpleasant truth slapped at her, making her usual panic rise high and hard inside her.
She sat up straight in Jason’s wide bed, blinking around the mess of it—sheets strewn about, the pillows thrown here and there—and tried her best not to recall every last smoking-hot second that had led to each damning bit of evidence. Each pointing to exactly where and when and how she’d lost control of herself and this situation completely.
Jason was stretched out beside her, commanding even as he slept. And it took her a distressingly long moment to understand that