Page 46 of Reveal Me
‘I need you.’ She opens her eyes, and the heat in them hits me like a physical blow.
I scan the room. Why are there no condoms in here?
‘I’m clean.’ She grinds back against me. ‘You’ve seen my medical report.’
I hiss. If only she knew what I’m truly terrified of catching—feelings. Truthfully, it’s too late, I caught them the second she crawled across my stage. ‘I’m supposed to be testing your limits, Layla, but so far, you’re testing every single one of mine.’
She pauses. ‘Sorry, Sir.’ She knows exactly what she’s doing to me. And, dom or not, I’m powerless to prevent it. She backs onto me, her arousal coating the tip of my dick, and I surrender to the inevitable, sinking bareback into her slickness, inch by glorious naked inch. The sensation is sublime.
Her head rolls back as she grinds herself against me. ‘You are the worst submissive I’ve ever had.’ My hands grip her hips, guiding her as she rocks against me, taking me in, one life affirming inch at a time.
‘So you keep saying.’
For the second time tonight, I do something I’ve never done with a sub. I thrust into her slowly, gently, with a tenderness that I never knew I was capable of. Her back arches and fuck, I forgot how beautiful bareback sex was. I place my hands on top of hers, pinning her against the wall as I slam into her again and again and again. The sensation of sinking into her flesh is transcendent.
Her core contracts around my cock, pulsing and squeezing, dragging me into oblivion with her. Knowing my cum is inside her, marking her from the inside out makes it all the sweeter. Reluctantly, I pull out, watching as my mess drips from between her legs. It’s almost as satisfying as the sex itself.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
‘So hot,’ she murmurs, looking down as it streaks the inside of her thighs. Looks like I’m not the one who’s completely fucked here.
‘Please tell me you’re on birth control.’
‘I am.’ She bites her lower lip, and the urge to kiss it better consumes me, but that’s the one mistake I haven’t made.
Yet.
Chapter Twenty
LAYLA
This week’s paintings are as colourful and expressive as last week’s. The things that Sean Beckett knows how to do to a woman is mind-blowing. Friday night was intense, both what we did in the main lounge and then in the showers afterward. Saturday was different again—more playful. And Sunday night was equally erotically gratifying as the first two.
Nipple clamps.
Toys.
Ice cubes.
Blindfolds. Even when I’m blindfolded, he’s opening my eyes. I’ve never experienced pleasure like it.
It’s all consuming.
Addictive.
Temptation and I have galloped past Sean’s estate more times than I can count this week, and it’s only Tuesday. I’m like a schoolgirl with a crush. The urge to see him again is eating me alive. Not just sexually, either. I want to be with him. To know him more. To learn more about the man outside of the club. The man who was hurt before. The manwho looks like a god, but is every bit as human as me beneath his hard exterior.
What woman in their right mind would cheat on Sean Beckett?
I couldn’t even contemplate looking at another man–not when he’s all I see at the forefront of my mind all damn day, every day.
He was right about one thing though–I’m tired. My muscles were in agony yesterday, not from the toys or restraints but from being tight and taut with the prospect of inexplicable pleasure. And don’t get me started on the mental fatigue. Who knew surrendering entirely could be so exhausting?
I stand back to survey my handiwork—another bold, bright explosion of colour. I could start an entire collection the way I’m banging them out at the moment.
A knock sounds on the door. It can only be Kat.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she enters cautiously, carrying a tray laden with afternoon tea. ‘It’s just you’ve been in here all day. You have to eat, princess. I brought you tea and scones.’
