Her instinct had been right; she wasn't going to let him hold back. She couldn't. His magic fingers on her nipple made her wild with excitement. The feeling of him between her legs was unspeakably voluptuous; when was he going to ram himself home? She wanted it, more than ever, every thick, rigid inch of him rooted right where he belonged.

She pulled away from the heat of his mouth to whisper, "You feel so good. I want all of your penis inside me."

His body jolted upward, and he felt himself spurting.

"Who would have thought it would feel so good," she breathed, loving that her words had propelled him to erupt. "I can't get enough of it." He thrust again, feeling himself spinning out of control. "More-harder… more-"

And he was gone, his whole body involuntarily jacking upward and exploding his hot spuming cream into her untried virgin body.

It was a wondrous thing, a man's body, that even words could excite it beyond endurance; and his penis, as he withdrew it, still in a high state of arousal. It excited her to see it still rigid and slick with the essence of her.

"Oh, we're not done yet, fancy-piece," he murmured. "I have enough left for you." He levered himself out of the chair, holding her around the waist so that she was not an inch away from him, and tumbled her onto the bed. "Spread your legs, mistress. You begged for this."

She was soaking now, from his semen, from her quivering arousal, and he thrust his penis head hard into her, as deep as he could go without tearing her. She eased onto her elbows to look, to see him deeply embedded in her, joined to her in the most erotic way.

"You want my penis inside you. This"-he thrust at her and she flinched-"is my penis inside you." He drew back meaningfully, thrust just the ridged tip into her, pulled it out, thrust again, pulled it out, thrust again, pulled it out, and this time, with no niceties, no further play, he rammed himself home.

A pinch, a tear-what… oh God, he's inside me to the hilt… oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… it's so naked, it's so hard... it's so THERE...

"You wanted it," he whispered. "Never fuck with a man in heat."

She had to rally; there was no time to examine what was happening, or how she felt, she wanted to get out from under him immediately, and she wanted to stay, and all she could do was react in a way that mirrored this hard-hearted possession that she hadn't quite expected. "You're hard as a bone," she whispered, "so how long do I have to wait for you to fuck me to a faretheewell."

Hell. Bitch. How much money had he thrown at her?

"It would serve you right if I just got up and walked out forever," he growled. "Some mistresses are appreciative of anything they get." It was a game, after all. But he was damned if she was going to call the shots. Virgins were hell after they discovered pleasure. Why hadn't he taken that into consideration? "And the fact this is your first fuck-you should be grateful as hell it's not some stranger! On second thought, I am leaving…" Deliberately, he wrenched himself out of her body, so she could see the rock-hard jut of his throbbing sex. "I'll get it somewhere else."

Oh, God, no no no. Never did she think she would feel this empty, this bereft. And the worst was over. He could never hurt her again that way. And the pleasure was too much to give up out of hand. A mistake to bludgeon him with his own words like that; if she wanted to follow through on her own expressed intentions, which she did, she would have to swallow her mistake and beg.

"Don't."

"Don't. Too late for don'ts, my would-be mistress. Remember? You agreed to my terms. My needs. My wants. My pleasure. When I want it. How I want it. If I want it. That's what I paid you for. Your nipples. Your ass. Your cunt. Not when you want it. When I want it."

"Come get it, then," she said softly. "I'm ready for you." And she was. She felt the loss of him keenly, and the power, on every level. Once the initial deed was done, the rest wasn't hard at all. She wanted him, that was clear and true. And everything that implied.

He kneeled back on the bed between her legs. "That's the only thing that's keeping me here-that you're naked and I can take you this minute."

"Good," she breathed. Oh, good. She watched through knowing, hooded eyes as he inserted himself up to the rim of his penis head. She loved that, the barest tip of him rimming the folds of her sheath with the promise of all the heat and force behind it. He wanted her to feel it, his power, his strength, his virility. He had more than enough for her five times over, let alone two. He was as hard as a poker, and he wanted her to feel every thick hot inch of him as he slowly slowly slowly pushed himself into her wet tight core.

So slowly. He was so long, so strong as his hips flexed and he thrust himself inside her. And when she thought she had wholly encompassed all of his massive length, he pushed yet another inch tighter inside.

"This is what a mistress does, fancy-piece. This is how her lover likes to see her, flat on her back and dominated by his lust."

God almighty-it was too damned late to shock her. What the hell did he think he was doing? Nothing fazed her, not even his insensitive taking of her virginity. A man had to be made of iron to resist her.

"That's what I want," she whispered-and she meant it.

And that was nearly the end-of him. She loved it, every stroke, every thrust, every minute; she moved with it, she begged for it, whispering hot words in his ear, grasping his buttocks, raking his back. She felt him, every juicy inch of him, and she worked him as though she was born to be on her back and at his mercy.

And he gave her none. His control shattered, and all he wanted to do was pound them both to oblivion.

She was insatiable. There never was such pleasure, such feelings, such fullness in her. Her body had been aching for this unspeakable forbidden possession by the most devastat-ingly potent part of a man.

How could anyone live without it after experiencing that secret pleasure? She couldn't stop taking him. His mouth bruised hers, his body rammed into her savagely, pulling her with him, pummeling her until she was swamped by waves and waves of purling, rolling sensations. Never stop never stop never stop never stop… something stopped… something broke, and nothing could stop the storm of feeling and emotion that crashed over her, into her, around her, hot boiling pleasure pouring through her body and between her legs. His pleasure, his cream, hot and blasting out of him like a cannon, and he couldn't stop it, he couldn't stop it, he couldn't, couldn't couldn't couldn't-

And then one last mighty thrust-and he pitched mindlessly over and into her arms.

Desire was an insidious thing. It crept up on a man at the least likely times. He thought he was dead exhausted, and a half hour after his forceful possession of her, he was still inside her, stiff as a board, and hot to fuck her again. She didn't have to do a thing. All he needed was a vessel, and she was still soaked, thick with his cream, an image that aroused him ferociously.

He eased himself more against her, burying himself so powerfully and so deep, he could feel her pubic hair scraping against his own. He felt himself contract, and then he spurted, not the full blow, but damn and hell, all he had to do was embed himself in her and he went off half-cocked. Shit. He couldn't control anything, not her, not sex, not his unruly penis.

He rocked against her, pushing, pushing, pushing. Her body was so pliant, taking him deeper and deeper as he ground his hips into hers. He wanted to root between her legs forever.

He had been at her so long, the candle was guttering, burned to the nub and suddenly gone, throwing the room in total darkness.

There was something about the dark. Forbidden things happened in the dark. Things that two people did to each other that did not have to be acknowledged in daylight. Things he wanted to do to her right now while she was naked and still coated with his semen.

He nudged her legs together and straddled them so that she enveloped him even more tightly. She stirred, and her sleepy, futile movements stoked him to the blasting point. He covered that one breast to feel her nipple shaping beneath the flat of his hand. He covered her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep within, concurrent with the sharp, thrusting movement of his penis.

She came languidly awake as she accepted his tongue. Her body arched under him as he fingered her nipple the way only he could, and he followed the movement with a hard thrust of his hips.

This was all he needed: his possession of her turgid nipple, the soft, hot accommodation of her supple body, the hot press of his penis deep inside her, her avid mouth voraciously feeding on his lips and tongue.

He didn't want to move. Couldn't move. If he moved… he spasmed, he spurted, and he ruthlessly got himself under control. He wanted this full bore possession to go on for hours, for days, for months, with no beginning and no end.

And all he had to do was wholly embed himself in her and not move.

He had to move. Had to move. His tongue, his hips, his fingers. Just to let her know he was there. Inevitably, indomitably there.

And that nipple. That hard, pliable nipple… it drove him crazy the way he could play with it, rub it, caress it, the way her hips shimmied and ground into him every time he manipulated it, the way her body got hot, stoked, languid with every erotic touch.

Don't move. Let her move. Let her squirm and twist and try to get away from me. This is my nipple. She will never get away from me.