Maya Banks - Sweet Persuasion

There was something wild in his eyes. Where before he had seemed restrained, in control and patient, now there was an urgency, a deep wanting in those warm brown orbs that melted her heart.

“Come to me,” she whispered. “Be with me. Serena. The person, not the fantasy.”

He stopped, his body going still against her flesh. His gaze penetrated her, dark and forbidding. Propping himself on one arm next to her head, he touched his fingers to her lips as if to shush her. “You were never just a fantasy to me, Serena mine.”

Her chest swelled and expanded with emotion that caught her off guard. Was she too caught up in the mess of fantasy versus reality? Was she having a hard time separating the two in her mind? Why was it suddenly so important that he want her and not the obedient sex slave?

He dropped his head and kissed her, long and sweet. His tongue danced with hers, touching, licking, loving her mouth deeply and intimately.

There was a reverence to his every touch, almost hesitation, as though he feared she would shatter under his caresses. Carefully he ran his hand over the curve of her shoulder. The backs of his knuckles grazed the soft skin above her breast and then slid over her nipple.

“Are they sore?” he asked as he stopped and thumbed over the point.

“A little,” she admitted. “They’re more . . . sensitive. They still tingle.”

“Did you like the clamps?”

She nodded.

He leaned down and put his mouth over the taut peak. Warm and moist, his tongue flicked over the tip as his lips closed around the aureole. Her pussy tightened as he sucked in smooth rhythmic motions.

With his free hand, he reached between them, sliding his hand between her parted thighs. He found her wetness, and his fingers teased over her opening. His cock lay rigid against the inside of her thigh, and he opened her then positioned himself so that his length was cradled in her folds.

He smiled when her eyes widened as he rubbed up and down, the plump vein on the underside of his penis pressing against her clit. His balls crowded her pussy entrance, and she remembered how they’d felt sandwiched between them when he’d fucked her ass.

She reached down, and he reared farther up on his knees to give her access. Her fingers slid through her curls so that his cock nudged the tips each time he came seeking through her folds. Up and down he rubbed, sucking in his breath each time she stroked the blunt crown.

Her juices coated him and transferred to her hand. She withdrew and brought her fingers up to his mouth in a saucy dare. He didn’t hesitate. Taking her wrist, he held her fingers captive and proceeded to suck each and every one.

Not letting go of her hand, he leaned forward, forcing her arm to her side. He found her other one with his free hand and entwined their fingers before pressing them to the mattress on either side of her head.

He lay above her, his body pressed to hers, his cock between her thighs. He nibbled playfully at her chin, and when she laughed, he captured the sound as his mouth covered hers.

He rocked his hips, moving up and down until he found her entrance. He slid deep, seating himself far within her body. Then he stopped, holding himself tightly against her as he devoured her mouth.

She wriggled her hands, just enough to test how committed he was to holding her down. He released her immediately, and she touched him with greediness, her hands coaxing over his arms to his muscular shoulders and then to his back.

She loved the male roughness, the dips and curves of each muscle and the rigidity as she feathered over them. She loved feeling him flinch, as though her touch was intensely pleasurable to him.

He withdrew, sliding his engorged cock over aching, pulsing flesh. Then he rocked forward again, slow and easy. She sighed and wiggled her hips, impatient for the pleasure he would give her.

A smile curved his sensual lips, and his eyes gleamed as he stilled once more inside her.

“You’re a miserable tease,” she reproached.

“What’s your hurry?” he murmured as he kissed her quick and light and then proceeded to pepper a line down her jaw to her throat.

“Mmmm.” She arched into him, seeking those sinful lips, needing to feel them against her skin.

Thrust and withdraw. He set a lazy rhythm, his pace unhurried and relaxed. Each stroke sent her senses flaming, a slow crawl to completion. Like a rope swing in the heat of summer, starting slow, swaying in the wind, higher and higher, until it reached toward blue skies.

She closed her eyes, basking in his sunshine. His hands roamed freely over her body, cupping and molding, his touch light and seeking. Each caress told her more than words that she belonged to him. She was his and he knew her better than any other lover she’d ever been with.

When she felt his pace quicken, felt him swell within her, stretching her to her limits, she pulled his head down to hers. She fused their lips, pouring all that she felt into her kiss.

He lowered his body to hers, melding to her as he wrapped his arms around her. Their bodies entwined, he cupped his hips over her, thrusting repeatedly between her legs.

“Serena,” he whispered as he buried his face in her hair.

Her breath stuttered across her lips like a hiccup. She flew higher on the swing until the sun bathed her face and she closed her eyes to its brightness. Warmth, sweet, honeyed warmth flooded her soul. Joy flickered across her heart as her orgasm swelled and then burst around her like flowers opening to the sun’s rays.

“Damon,” she whispered back, her voice choked.

They held each other tightly as their bodies quivered and shook in the aftermath of their lovemaking. He lay, warm and limp over her body, covering her like a blanket. She rubbed her palm absently over his back as he softened inside her.

Finally, he moved away, pulling her with him so that she was cradled in his embrace.

Neither spoke, and maybe they didn’t want to ruin the moment with something as harsh and unwieldy as mere words. Serena contented herself with lying in his arms, listening to the soft pounding of his heartbeat so close to her ear.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Damon’s voice rumbled in her ear, and she moved her head in protest and snuggled deeper into the covers. He chuckled and smacked her affectionately on the ass. She winced as a tingle of discomfort hummed over her sore flesh. Almost as quickly a curl of pleasure simmered deep and she was taken back to the previous evening.

“Come on, Serena. Get up and get dressed. We’re taking a trip.”

She opened one eye to glance warily at him. “Are you always this obnoxiously cheerful in the morning?

He smiled. “It’s no longer morning. You slept until noon. And good morning sex will do that to a guy.”

“Good any sex will do that to a guy,” she corrected.

“True, but then guys aren’t known for their depth,” he said with a sexy wink. “Now get up and get dressed. I’ve already packed a bag for you.”

She sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes as she blearily tried to focus on him. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we’d go see my mom,” he said lightly. “It’s been . . . a long time since I’ve seen her and it’s time to go back home.”

She scrambled from the covers and hooked her legs over the side. “Your mom? Where does she live? And, um, am I going as your slave or as a friend or what?”

He put his hands on her arms and squeezed gently as he hauled her to stand in front of him. He kissed her lingeringly then brushed a finger over her nose. “What do you want to go as, Serena mine?”

The question confused her, not for its lack of clarity. It was certainly direct and uncomplicated enough. But it was one of those questions that asked her to state intentions she wasn’t sure of yet, and worse, asked her to declare them before she knew of his feelings.

Feelings?

She stepped away abruptly, desperate to put distance between them. Did she want him to have feelings for her? When the fuck had this gone beyond a simple fantasy to grandiose thoughts of a relationship?

It was hard to think of a relationship when the extent of their “courting” had consisted of bondage, spankings and ass fucking.

She nearly groaned aloud. So it wasn’t quite that crude, and it reduced what had been an extremely satisfying sexual experience to something cheap and smutty.

“Serena?”

She glanced back up at Damon who looked at her with confused eyes.

“Is something wrong? If you’d prefer we not go, I can go another time.”

She shook her head. “I’d love to,” she said huskily. “Let me get a shower. I can be dressed in half an hour.”

He leaned in to kiss her again. “Take your time. I’ll pack the car.”

They zipped down Interstate 10 in Damon’s BMW. He drove with the practiced ease of someone well acquainted with the horrors of Houston traffic.

For the first couple of hours they rode in silence, Damon’s gaze fixed on the road ahead. Occasionally she glanced at his profile, studying his tense expression. He’d seemed eager to visit his mother earlier, but now, as they crossed over the Louisiana state line, his jaw was firmly set.

Wanting to ease some of the strain, she tentatively reached across the seat for his hand. He glanced over and smiled, easing some of the lines at his brow.

Not wanting to pry too deeply into what may or may not be bothering him, she opted for general and light. She cocked her head to the side and smiled at him.