Maya Banks - Letting Go

She moaned softly and went wet around his finger. So responsive and receptive. Her body clutched at his finger as he withdrew as if it didn’t want to let go. Then he lowered his head, his tongue lapping at her sweet moisture.

“Dash!”

His name came out, explosive in the silence. His name. Not Carson’s. That fact gratified him immensely. Her husband may occupy her dreams, but Dash had her in the present. For now he’d take that and hold on for all he was worth. Sooner or later he’d have her dreams as well as her in the waking.

He nibbled lightly and then sucked, rolling his tongue over her clit, exerting just enough pressure to make her wild beneath him. Her fingers thrust into his short-cut hair and then dug into his scalp, encouraging him, holding him in place.

She was in control, and he found he didn’t mind at all. For this moment, she was calling the shots and he’d allow it. Whatever she wanted. He was hers to command.

A soft hum blew from her lips. Satisfaction and desire all rolled into one. She arched upward, moving him to the places that brought her greater pleasure. He was an apt student, taking in her body’s response when he hit a particularly sweet spot.

He was a quick study and soon she didn’t have to direct him. He learned her body, absorbing the knowledge of what made her crazy with want.

He placed an openmouthed kiss to her pussy entrance and then thrust his tongue as deep as he could get into her liquid warmth.

He wanted her to come in his mouth, an instant hot rush of release. He maneuvered his fingers, two of them below his mouth, and plunged them inside, caressing the silken walls of her vagina.

He probed gently, seeking the spot where the texture was more plush and different, slightly rougher. He pressed upward, eliciting an instant cry from her. She grew wetter and panted, the sounds an aphrodisiac to his ears.

His cock was flat against his belly, so hard and pulsing that he was nearly out of his mind with the need to claim her. But he’d deny himself that ultimate satisfaction. For her. This was all about her. Only for her. His silent apology for being a bastard and taking out his black mood on her.

He didn’t like feeling jealous. Especially of a dead man. A man who’d been his best friend. But there it was. He was insanely jealous of Carson’s hold on her even from the grave.

“Are you close, honey?”

“Yes! Please don’t stop, Dash. I need you.”

The heartfelt plea seized his very soul, warming him from the inside out. Liquid sunshine. He basked in her radiance, her pleasure and need.

He thrust with his fingers, exerting firmer pressure on her pleasure spot as his tongue circled her clit and sucked gently. She quivered uncontrollably underneath him, her thighs shaking, her knees knocking against his sides.

“Give it to me,” he rasped. “Give it to me now, Joss. Everything. Let go.”

She arched upward, her cry endless and pained. He quickly covered the mouth of her pussy with his own and sucked hard as she pulsed and vibrated in her orgasm. Her honey coated his tongue, spurring his need even higher.

His thumb moved up to her clit to replace his tongue and he rubbed gently, coaxing wave after wave of release from her.

Finally she sagged onto the couch, her body going limp. He glanced up to see her half-lidded eyes lazily surveying him, glowing with contentment. She reminded him of a satisfied cat and she was all but purring.

When he would have stood to replace his clothing, she quickly sat forward, her hands going to his hips to stop him. Then without a word, she grasped his cock and guided it toward her mouth, slipping the head between her lips.

“Don’t deny me the same chance to pleasure you,” she said, her voice laced with the husky remnants of her orgasm. She sounded hoarse and needy, as though she still had a ways to go to complete her pleasure.

“Just stand there, Dash. Let me love you.”

He closed his eyes, a wave of contentment rolling over him with the power to bring him to his knees. God yes, he’d allow her to love him. It was everything he’d ever wanted.

His hands tangled in her hair, lifting it and pulling it away so he could see her face, could see her lips wrapped around his dick. She sucked him deep, holding him at the back of her throat and then swallowing around it, milking him.

“I won’t last long, honey.”

Her lips curved into a smile around his cock.

“I know.”

And then she began to pump her fist around his dick, sucking him hard and deep. It was a pace destined to drive him over the edge within seconds. And it did. Before she’d sucked him deep the fourth time, he was already coming, jetting and pulsing deep into her throat.

She swallowed greedily, sucking, demanding more. Not a single drop spilled from her lips. Her fingers gently lowered to his balls, caressing and rolling them in her palm. He was up on tiptoe, straining forward, his body so tight that he felt he was coming apart at the seams.

The last of his semen erupted and still she sucked and licked gently, bringing him down until he was simply too sensitive to bear her tender ministrations any longer.

He caught her hand, forcing her to still her motions, and then he carefully withdrew from her mouth, her tongue running along the back of the length as he pulled away.

He pulled her to stand in front of him and caught her in his arms, hugging her tightly to him. He buried his face in her hair and pressed gentle kisses to her head.

“I didn’t deserve that,” he said hoarsely. “But I won’t turn it down. Ever. Thank you, honey. Thank you for forgiving me.”

She pulled away, a gentle smile curving her lips. “There’s nothing to forgive, Dash.”

His feeling of unworthiness skyrocketed. God, but she was perfect. And he was an asshole taking out his frustration on her two mornings in a row, and yet she forgave him as sweetly as a woman ever forgave a man.

“If you’d like, I’ll fix you a drink and you can come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while I prepare dinner,” she said.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

The idea of them being so domestic. Of him sitting and watching as she cooked for him. The image was powerful and brought him immeasurable joy.

He quickly dressed and then she held out her hand to his.

“Come on then. I’ll fix your drink and then if you don’t mind, I’ll get dressed. I don’t want to be near a hot stove or oven naked,” she said ruefully.

“Use my robe,” he said gruffly.

There was nothing he’d like more than to see her wrapped in his robe while she puttered around the kitchen.

“All right,” she said softly. “I’ll get your robe just as soon as I’ve fixed your drink.”

THE last two weeks had been a dream. Dash couldn’t be happier. Joss glowed with contentment. She’d fallen into her role as a submissive, submissive to him, as though she’d been born to it. And maybe she had.

Maybe it was what she had always craved—needed—and Dash was supremely arrogant and pleased that he was the man who’d provided it for her. There had been no reoccurrence of her saying Carson’s name in her sleep. No upsetting dreams. She was, he was beginning to have confidence, his. Completely and utterly his.

He drove faster than normal, eager to get home. Tonight he’d broach the subject of taking Joss to The House for the first time as a couple. He hadn’t wanted to rush into it, especially after Joss’s first experience at The House. He hadn’t wanted to take her there until things were perfect between them. Until that first encounter was wiped firmly from her mind and no embarrassment or shame lingered.

She was ready. He was certainly ready. Ready to take things to the next level. He wanted to publicly claim Joss, but he also wanted to give her what she’d been looking for that very first night.

He was confident that she’d agree, that she’d even be eager to experiment with all of the pleasures The House provided.

Before he’d decided on the night, he’d made damn certain that neither Tate nor Jensen would be there. He wouldn’t cause Joss even a moment’s discomfort. Jensen had joined and gone through the vetting process and had received his membership just days before.

According to Tate, he and Chessy hadn’t been in a long while. Dash had frowned over that fact, remembering his conversation with Joss about Chessy and Tate and her concerns over Chessy’s happiness. Tate had seemed awfully preoccupied with work lately. His company was growing by leaps and bounds and the demands on his time had increased.

But he hadn’t broached the subject with his friend because it wasn’t his business. And he had no way of knowing if the couple was having problems anyway. No need to plant the seed of doubt in Tate’s mind if there was no cause for concern. Tate adored Chessy. Dash knew that much. And it would likely make Tate crazy if he even suspected Chessy wasn’t happy.

The couple would work it out in their own time. Dash was confident of that. Tate was over the moon in love with his wife. He’d give her the world—had always given her the world. He treasured Chessy’s gift of submission. He was damn lucky.

But no, Dash was every bit as fortunate now. He had Joss. Perfect, submissive, loving Joss. She’d gone to great lengths to please him, worrying endlessly that she’d disappoint him. As if.

Dash now knew that even if Joss weren’t able to give him what he needed—desired—by being submissive, Dash would forgo that aspect of his personality for her. There was no sacrifice too great to make in order to have his heart’s desire.