Always and Never

She lay back on the bed, chest heaving slightly, waiting for him to speak. Her body was buzzing all over and she was craving his touch.

"Fingers out," he said, his voice washing over her still-sensitive body like a gentle caress. She complied, sliding her fingers out of her damp heat. They were slick, coated with her juices. The scent was positively enticing, a deliciously heady aroma.

"How do you taste?" he asked huskily.

She dipped her fingers into her warm mouth, sucking them slowly. "So sweet," she cooed. "And so ready for you."

He rose from the chair, stepping out of his pants. He untied his Cole Haan shoes and peeled off his socks. Loosening his tie, he took his off before unbuttoning his shirt and laid them both on top of his suit jacket. Clad only his underwear, he walked over to the bed. She shuddered at the sight of his body, hard lines of his muscled rippling under smooth skin. He was lean but athletic as evidenced by the defined abdominal muscles.

His hands dipped into the waistband of his underwear before sliding them off his slim hips, down his strong thighs, and finally to the floor. He stood before her, naked and proud, looking like a devilish Adonis.

Crooking a finger, she beckoned him to her. He complied, stretching his tall form on top of hers. She could feel the weight of his erection pressing against her thigh and her pussy trembled in anticipation, imagining his cock sliding into her wetness.

His lips captured hers in a searing kiss as he pressed his weight into her. She loved that feeling, him fully on her. It wasn't stifling; it was comforting. It felt real. She kissed him back hard, whimpering as his teeth nipped her lips playfully. Until she met him, she had no use for the phrase "kissed senseless". But it was true; he kissed her stupid, and she adored it. Another little talent.

"I..." she husked. She was finding it difficult to breathe as his lips continued their assault. Her hips rocked heavily into his until she felt their movement stilled by his strong hands firmly gripping her pelvis.

"Tell me what you want, gorgeous." His breath was hot on her skin as she shuddered under his touch.

He was everywhere, lips on hers, hands on her hips, his warm cock pressed tightly against her inner thigh, begging to slide into her sweet hole. Her pulse pounded in her ears and the roar was deafening. She needed him, needed him to do it...

"I need to feel you," she gasped. She felt him grin against her lips as his hand left her hip.

"Like this?" he cooed. She felt two of his thick fingers plunge hard and she groaned. It wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but it was damn good enough for now. "How does it feel?"

His thumb brushed her clit, sending tiny sparks shooting all over. "Fuck," she moaned. "Feels so good."

"Do you want more?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, please."

"Then tell me." His fingers delve deeper before curving upward and all she can think is yellow, happiness and pleasure. "Beg for it. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"Dammit," she groaned "I want you inside me. Now." She bleats it out, a sharp plea for him to ease the fire now threatening to consume her insides. He was torturing her, and he knew it. It's all part of the game, all part of the contract of control.

He grinned, his murky eyes practically iridescent. He was enjoying himself. "You made me wait while you sat in the car, gorgeous. Why should I give you this cock?" To prove his point, he slid his fingers out of her warmth and she nearly cried from the loss of contact.

"Please," she begged. She hated when he acted like this. It bordered almost on cruel. She longed for the sweet side, the one where he would gently slide inside her pussy, kissing her softly. That made her feel whole, and less like the kept woman she really was.

"Tell me," is his quiet command. He brought his fingers to her lips, coated with her essence. She could smell herself on his digits. It was a heady mixture, tangy and sweet with a hint of her lily and mint body wash. He rubbed his fingers on her lips, and the scent became stronger. He licked his lips in an almost wolfish manner before pressing them against hers.

He sucked her plump bottom lip into his mouth, licking off every trace of her womanly juices. His groan was low and heavy and she squirmed at the nerve shocks it sent to her already overheated pussy. "Do you want this cock," he asked once more. His accent was heavy now, all trace of the well-bred Boston boy gone.

"Yes," she replied. She barely got the word out before it turned into a low moan. He moved the tip of his cock to her soaking channel. The blunt pinkish head of his large dick pressed gently at her entrance, and her greedy pussy lips reached for all of him.

"I said—do you want this cock?"

"Yes!" she screamed. "Fuck me. Now." Her tone was as stern as she dared.

He smiled once again. "With pleasure, gorgeous." And with that, he rocked into her, thrusting so deep, her head tilted back in absolute pleasure.

A sharp hiss escaped her clenched teeth as she spread her legs wider to accompany him. He was still for a moment before rolling his hips once more. A small bead of sweat rolled down his face and onto her collarbone. Her hands gripped his muscular arms as her hips sought to meet up his downward thrusts.

"What do you want, gorgeous?" he gasped.

"My nipples," she moaned. "Please lick them." Still plunging deep, he leaned forward, capturing a tiny brown bud between his teeth. He tugged at it gently before running the rough side of his tongue back and forth over it. She cried out, the sensations from his mouth and cock almost too much to bear.

"How do I feel?" he asked before moving to the other nipple, stiff with arousal.

"S-s-so good," she shuddered. "I-I'm gonna..."

"Oh no you don't," he said. "Not until I say you're ready."

She let out an angry breath. So close. And he knew it. But it was all part of the game. And she loved to play along.

"Turn over," he drawled as he slid out of her. She complied, rolling onto her stomach. He moved her raven hair to one side, draping it over her neck. He kissed the back of her neck, his talented tongue tracing the tiny sprinkling of stars tattooed there, a product of a drunken night back in undergrad. When he first saw them, he had chuckled and called them 'cute'.

She lifted up on her elbows when his hands reached around to cup her breasts. He tugged her nipples while he straddled her. She felt safe, her hips secured between his powerful thighs. He tilted her face back, kissing her lips while his fingers continued to cup and squeeze her breasts.

She could feel his cock resting between her ass cheeks and she longed for him to return to her wet pussy. But this time she didn't beg. She knew better. He would go on his own time.

He always did.

He chuckled. "I can see you're waiting patiently," he cooed. "Since my girl is so good, I'll definitely give her what she wants." He lifted her hips slightly before burying his cock inside her once more.

They both cried out, and she spread her legs wider giving him access to go deeper. It was one of her favorite positions. He loved fucking her from the back and she loved feeling the weight of his athletic body fully pressed down on hers.

With her pinned to the bed, he was right where he wanted to be: in total control.

Each time he stroked into her, her body moved forward, the silken sheets rubbing her clit. She clawed at the sheets as she felt his lips pressed against her shoulder blades, his breath hot on her sweaty skin.

"Fuck," she heard him pant. "Pussy so good." He began to pick up his pace, stroking harder and faster into her. She was straddling the line of suffocation and pleasure, her breathing becoming erratic as she neared her climax.

She could hear the tell-tale groans behind her. He was going to come. She turned her head, capturing his lips, stealing his gasps of pleasure as her own. "Please," she begged.

He smiled. "Does my girl want me to come?"

She nodded, giving him the meek smile she knew he loved. "Yes, baby. I want to feel you come inside me."

He closed his eyes and she felt him shudder against her. "Ooh gorgeous. I definitely want to shoot this load inside that hot pussy of yours. But you need to come first. You've been such a patient girl."

"Ooh," she cried, arching her back as he stroked deeper.

"Come for me," he growled. "Come on, little girl. Let me hear you scream."

She began to tremble, her fingers twisting the sheets violently as the waves of pleasure tore through her being. "Oh fuck," she cried. Her hips began to push back, meeting his quick thrusts.

"Is my baby coming?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes!" she whimpered. She let out a small scream when he plunged harder, his body stretching out, his long arms covering hers as he threaded his pale fingers through her slender brown ones.

She was barely down from the first orgasm when another hit. Her pussy squeezed his cock tightly inside her and she heard him curse softly. "I'm almost there, gorgeous" he husked.

"Come for me baby," she whispered.

He growled. "Say it again." He hit deep once more and felt her shake underneath him.

"Ooh, come for me. Let me feel that hot load inside me."

His grip tightened on her hands as she felt his shudder. "Say my name," he whispered, his voice tight with need.

"Brendan," she whispered, turning to face him. "Come for me."

His moan was low and deep, his body pressing tighter to hers as he released his seed into her waiting pussy. She came quickly, her body gleeful at the noise she'd been waiting for.

His hips continued to stroke in and out, slowly bringing her down from ecstacy. She was still shuddering when he slid out of her. She felt the cold dampness between her legs, and all at once she missed his warm cock.

She flipped on her back as she watched him crawl to the top of the bed, before sliding between the blankets. He was obviously planning to sleep.

His murky eyes watched her, patting the spot next to him. She moved slowly, sore from where his hands gripped her hips tightly. She was bound to have bruises later. As she settled in beside him, he threw an arm around her waist, drawing her closer to his damp body. This was part of their ritual. He liked her close after, her silent company a comfort to his mind.

Her hand rested on his chest, a creamy tan color from hours playing basketball at the country club. It was amazing, the minute details she knew about him. She traced the sprinkling of freckles on his chest, her fingers running over the sparse downy fuzz. She could still smell his cologne, the faint scent mixed with hers. It made her feel happy.

He was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling softly. Snuggling closer to his body, she closed her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she heard him whisper softly.

"Rachel."

********

Rachel Tunney considered herself a modern woman. While she embraced the independent "I Can Do It All By Myself" attitude shared by the more vocal of her gender, she secretly longed for something a bit more sinister.

When she met Brendan Doyle at the movies that night, she had no idea what she was in for. She had met confident guys, but there was something different about Brendan. He didn't wear his confidence like arrogant swag, a sure sign of a man who wasn't as confident as he appeared, one who would need constant reassurance from a woman about just how 'awesome' he really was.

No, Brendan Doyle's confidence was pure, undiluted. He simply didn't give a shit, and she had to admit, she found that sexy as hell. That night after the movies and drinks at his bar, he took her back to his swanky loft where he fucked her on every piece of furniture in his living room, from his $3,000 Italian leather sofa to the matching leather chaise.

He was wealthy, this she knew. His money was old, dating back to the Industrial Revolution. His family used to own a series of mills in the Northeast, producing everything from toys to paper. Brendan's father turned the mills into successful luxury hotels. When Brendan took over, he moved from hospitality to bars and nightclubs. At just thirty-two, he was a business whiz.

Yes, after that night of hot sex, she did Google him. Of course she knew who the Doyle family was. Practically everyone in the world did.

It was also no surprise that he was married. She discovered this little tidbit after they reached the two month mark. She'd had her suspicions, the late night calls, the random hookup places. With the exception of the Sunshine Motel, they never fucked in the same place twice. She tried to tell herself it was the spontaneity of the relationship, not knowing when she'd see or hear from him. It kept her constantly on edge and made their unions even hotter.

But still, the wife situation...it was surprising and obvious at the same time. She initially debated whether to confront him. She didn't want to appear clingy, whining about something that they hadn't really discussed. But she couldn't help but feel like this was a relationship. It was twisted. Really twisted. But at times she felt like she was number one and his wife was the other woman.

She'd seen the woman one night during her random Google searches. She was quite the typical Upper East Side bred-princess: long brunette hair styled expertly by top stylists, big blue eyes forever posed in the wide-eyed China doll fashion, petite body with slender features, and a grin that almost bordered on toothy but just stopped short of comely.

Rachel had to scoff. Typical. Just damn typical. Though she had her proof, she still had to know, had to hear it from him.

So one night after a particularly satisfying session she asked him the question she'd been dreading.

"Does your wife know?" She was lying in bed, watching him slide his jeans over his hips. She loved to watch him dress. It was almost as fun seeing him out of his clothes. He always took such care with his appearance.

He had just pulled his olive green shirt over his head when his hands stilled. Only for a moment, and then he pulled his shirt down and adjusted it over his jeans. "Do you really want to know the answer?"

She swung her feet on the floor. "I suppose not. Were you ever going to tell me about her?" She thought she saw a flicker of fire but it was quickly replaced by its usual cool pond color.

"Do you really think that's any of your fucking business?"It came out so casually, so quietly, she almost forgot to take offense.

"Of course it is," she said angrily. "I'm your girlfriend."

His lush lips curled into a grin that was part sexy, part devious. "Really now? You came up with that all on your own?"

"I mean, we've been seeing each other for two months. It definitely feels like a relationship. I thought we were exclusive."Her hazel eyes glanced up at his, searching for something, she just didn't know. But his gaze was unrelenting and almost bordered on cold.

She wished he'd stop looking at her like that. She was beginning to feel like a fool.

"Girlfriend? What are you, fifteen? I do have to give you credit though. At least you didn't pretend to feign ignorance about her."

"Why would I? I've seen the society pages."

"I always knew you were a smart one."

"Obviously not that smart. I'm knowingly fucking a married man."

"So leave."

His abrupt tone cut off her angry words.

"W-w-what?"

"You heard me. If you can't handle this, then by all means go."He picked up his silver watch from the nightstand before sliding it onto his wrist.

Rachel scoffed. "Fuck it, I'm going."Standing up from the bed, she slid into the black pencil skirt pooled at her feet. Snatching up the turquoise dress shirt, she hastily fastened the buttons while silently fuming. When she dared to look over at him, to her irritation he watched her, a look of pure amusement on his handsome face.

"What the fuck is so funny?" she huffed as she stuffed her feet into her black Ferragamo pumps.

"You," he said simply. "Attempting to take a stand." He was leaning casually against the door of the room, hands in his jean pockets, watching her as if she were a sitcom.

"This is not me attempting to take a stand. This is me peacing the fuck out. I'm not going to let you talk to me like that. I don't have to take this shit." She was busy trying to search for her blazer when she felt him grab her roughly in his arms. She let out a sharp gasp; she hadn't even seen him cross the room.

Rachel looked down at his hands, his fingers clenched firmly around her upper arms. "Brendan, let go of me."

"You may not have to take my shit, but you need it." His voice was low, the quietness making her shudder in spite of her anger. "You can't help it, you're drawn to me."

"No, Brendan. I'm tired of the games."

He chuckled softly. "No you're not. It's the only way you can get your kicks, gorgeous." He leaned closer, his lips mere centimeters away from her ear. "You like it when I take control, love the many ways I can make you come. Admit it."

His fingers began to caress her skin, moving slowly down her body before cupping her breasts. Rachel bit back a moan; she could already feel the pooling wetness between her legs and she cursed her traitorous body.

Brendan grinned evilly, as if he could hear her thoughts. He knew. She would give in. She always did.

He spun her around, pushing her back against the wall before his hands gripped the sides of her tight skirt and began to pull it up. She heard the fabric tear slightly and she groaned.

"Brendan..."

"Say it. Go ahead and try to be brave. Tell me you don't want this cock inside you." He fumbled with his pants, undoing them before they slid down to pile at his feet.

He wasn't even waiting for her responses anymore. Grabbing her hips, he lifted her roughly. "Be a good girl and wrap your legs around my waist."

She glared at him, her body on fire, craving him deeply but her eyes were still defiant. "Why should I?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her before rocking his hips into hers, his cock brushing against her clit. Rachel forgot herself, whimpering his name while gripping his shoulders tightly.

Brendan's smile was triumphant. "Do it. Now."He was still smiling, but the steel in his voice told her he wasn't playing nice anymore. He lifted one shapely thigh, and she heard her skirt rip more.

"Fuck the damn thing," he said tersely. "I'll get you a new one." He plunged in hard, a sharp hiss escaping his mouth.

Rachel uttered a low moan, her other leg wrapping around his waist. He chuckled. "There's my good girl," he said as he pumped furiously. No soft strokes, no tender words. It was purely primal. He was marking his territory.

And she loved it.

Her hands clawed at his back as her body jerked upward with each sharp thrust. She was going to come soon. Her pussy clenched his cock so tightly it was almost painful. When she opened her hazels, she saw him watching her, his nebulous eyes shining.

"You love it."It was clearly a statement.

"Yes," she gasped. "I do."

His grip tightened on her hips as he rolled his pelvis, the movement causing both of them to cry out. Who was she fooling? She wasn't going anywhere.

"Fuck, Brendan..." she whimpered.

"Yes," he huffed, rolling his hips again before plunging hard. "Tell me what I want to hear, gorgeous. Tell me what we both know is true."

She was so close to heaven, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "I-I-I'm yours," she rasped as her body began to tremble.

He smiled, the sinister glint in his gaze making her moan. "That's right gorgeous, you are. And you aren't going anywhere, are you?"

"N-n-no."

"Good girl." He came in a sharp growl, releasing his seed inside her. He crushed his lips to hers, claiming her mouth as his own. She kissed him back with the same heated frenzy even as his cock continued to pump slowly inside her pussy. She was going to be sore as hell tomorrow, but she didn't care. Nothing else mattered except him.