Page 42 of The Captain's Bounty
She closed her eyes, panting her breathy moans into the wet wall as he alternated between stroking her pussy and caressing the outer seam, sweeping his fingers back and forth between her folds and her clit, rolling the slick nub of her pleasure with his thumb before seizing her pussy in his domineering grip. Owning it; owning her.
Sometimes he went slow, only for his fingertips to circle faster, press harder, bring her arching onto her tiptoes with a plaintive cry for more locked behind her trembling lips. He took her right to the brink, winding her up so completely that every muscle in her body shook and shook, but just as her orgasm was about to break, he abandoned her clit entirely and swept down to sink all four fingers deep inside her.
Forget the dubious professionalism of how bounty hunters should treat their captives, this was more than she’d ever wanted. This was every fantastic sexual experience she’d ever had, all rolled into one powerful explosion she was only just holding back. She didn’t even know why.
“You make me ache,” Bruwes breathed, the heat of his breath burning her hotter than the water. She ached so badly too. Please, she ached.
Interesting.
She pressed her face to the tube’s wall, trying to shut its voice out of her head. She didn’t want to share a single stroke of this. She wanted grumpy Bruwes and his magical fingers all to herself.
“You are hard to ignore. No matter how much I try, you appeal to me.”
A writer of love sonnets he was not, but it didn’t matter. He was pretty hard to ignore right now too, especially with the full length of his cock digging into her from behind. With each slow pump of his hips, he rubbed his cock in the valley of her ass, but the head of him was traveling, lower and lower down. If only she could move, just the smallest wiggle might get him low enough for his cock to burrow between her legs. Right up against her pussy, where the magnificence of him could continue to work its magic.
“I want to be inside you.” He gently bit the lobe of her ear, the minor sharpness of his teeth making the rapture of his touch burst like champagne bubbles under her skin. It was in her perked nipples, her stomach, her ass. God, her pussy—she was a hot, throbbing, tingling, pulsing mess and there was no stopping this before she hit the beautiful end. “I want to feel the fluttering squeeze of your flesh as I bring you to arrival.”
“Coming,” she moaned.
He paused, his fingers on her clit pressing down hard on it until she could feel the exotic pressure against her public mound. “What?”
“It’s called coming, not arriving.” She wanted him so much she gave in to her desperation and reached for his cock. The strain in her shoulders from having to twist her wrists enough to catch him in both hands was nothing compared to the quiver that fluttered from her sex to her womb. A mini orgasm all its own, she tried to pet and stroke him back, but he wasn’t moving in the same helpless little twitches that she was.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, deep and low. “And it is what I say it is.”
As if this was the hill she wanted to die on, she stubbornly argued back, “How sexy is that? ‘I’m about to arrive, I’m arriving, you have arrived.’ I sound like a navi-comm. Is that what gets your engine firing?”
He reared off her again, yanking her off the wall to slap her pussy.
She shouted, the stinging swat leaving her greedy sex not just aching, but aching for more. It was shocking how quickly her flesh absorbed the hurt and turned even that into the next hottest thing she’d yet had a man do to her.
It was just as shocking when he flattened himself to the back shower wall and forced her all the way around. Just as fast as her back was against the wall, he was on her again, pressing her into it.
“It is whatever I say it is, and if you argue, you don’t get to arrive at all. On your knees.”
His eyes were so red, but she only caught a glimpse of them before he was pushing her down. She wasn’t ready for it, or strong enough to resist.
You don’t want to resist.
Down, she went. It hurt to kneel on the grated shower floor, but not enough to distract her from this eye-to-penis view.
“Open,” he ordered, gripping the base of his shaft. Water hit her in the face when he shoved it to her lips. She could have yelled, twisted away, or even bit him when he pushed, but she was too busy opening her mouth to figure out the alternatives.
His cock was more than her mouth could take, and he didn’t stop pushing until he was already in the back of her throat. She gagged, but he only pushed deeper, his groan a growl. She couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t grab him back or stay the pumping of his hips as he took her mouth for his own pleasure. Did she really want to? Her pussy flexed, tiny orgasmic spasms gripping and shivering her as his movements became quicker, shallower, and more erratic.
His eyes were closed as he braced his arm against the wall and used his other, once more tangled in her hair, to hold her bound for his pleasure.
For her pleasure too, it seemed. She couldn’t get enough. The more he forced her, the hotter her pussy throbbed and twitched.
He spoke, husky and low. A single word short and sharp, and not in English. It might have been a curse, and a thrill of pure power swept her when she thought it meant he was about to come.
Yanking out of her mouth, his dark veiny cock seemed to twitch before her eyes, and then he heaved her by her hair back onto her feet.
That should have hurt too, but the equal thrill of being completely under his control was too arousing for her to care. Turning her again, she was once more face-planted against the wall.
“You want my cock. Say it,” he breathed, gripping himself tight, already angling to enter her from behind.
God, yes...
