Page 130 of Wicked Fantasies

She wanted to yell at him to correct that oversight, but she knew the complaint would fall on deaf ears. He was truly the director of this scene.

She was shocked when after one nudge of his cock against her ass, he stepped back. He replaced his hips with his hands as he dragged them through the slit down to her pussy. She could feel the moisture pooled there, knew she was practically dripping, knew she’d never been wetter.

“Spread your legs apart, but keep your hands around your ankles.”

She struggled to obey, but apparently he wasn’t happy with her attempt. “Farther apart,” he demanded. “I won’t let you fall.”

His tone sent a fresh flood of juice between her thighs, and she realized the error of his thinking. How could she tell him she was falling, falling so deeply into this scene, into his words, that she feared she’d never find her way out again?

He steadied her with his hands upon her waist, and she closed her eyes against the sensations of being completely naked before this man, baring all her assets to his hungry gaze.

His fingers returned to her pussy and he used her juices to toy with her clit, his touches too light, too torturously soft. She struggled to push against him, but in her current position, her movements were restricted, difficult.

“Please.” The cry was a familiar one whenever she was in his presence.

He responded to her plea not with words, but actions. His fingers left her clit completely and she groaned.

“No,” he said. “Your orgasms belong to me and you haven’t earned one yet. You haven’t finished answering my question.”

Question? He asked a question?

“Are you a virgin?”

“No,” she whispered. This wasn’t her book, these weren’t her characters. It may be a honeymoon of his making, but she couldn’t pretend to be anything other than who she was.

Besides, she wanted this night to be about her, not some make-believe character from her damn book.

“Are you sure?” His fingers traveled to the opening of her body. Suddenly and without warning, he slammed three digits inside her hot, needy flesh.

She cried out, gratitude mingling with the stars that flew through her. She tried to push against him, her body and mind screaming for him to move, to pound inside her, but he held his fingers motionless for several moments.

“You’ve had a man’s fingers in your cunt before?”

She nodded, but her silence seemed to annoy him. “Say it, Gwen.”

“Yes,” she hissed. “I’ve had a man’s fingers there before.”

“And a man’s cock?”

“Yes.”

“A dildo, a vibrator?”

“Yes.” She remembered her poor, battered toys as they lay in her unopened suitcase. She’d given them a workout during her two weeks away from Hollywood. Ty’s name was the one word she’d cried out night after night.

His hands left her as quickly as they’d entered her, and she fought back tears of frustration. They moved away from her pussy and back. She sucked in a breath when she realized his destination.

This time when he pushed into her body again, it was slower, one finger in her ass.

“Have you had a man’s finger in your ass before tonight?”

She nodded, but he waited for her words. “Yes.”

She knew what his next question would be and the thought of what he was asking, what he would do, left her light-headed.

“What about a cock?”

“No,” she whispered.

---