Playing with Fire Ch. 01byRedAmazon03©
She entered the room seemingly oblivious to the man seated in the leather recliner. Her fiery hair was a blazing contrast to the immaculate, white oxford. He knew there were ten mother-of-pearl buttons lining the shirt’s placket, each one attached with an expert’s stitch. Obviously, she did not care; not a damned one was fastened. Beneath the stark white of the shirt was something black and lacy that briefly showed as she moved to the wet bar. Each long, splendidly muscled leg was sheathed in a sheer black stocking. Her feet were neatly tucked into black patent leather pumps with impossibly high heels.
The ice made brittle chimes as she prepared her drink. She turned to face him; her cat-like eyes caught his. The gaze she cast was nothing short of feral. He felt his blood begin to race, but held her stare with cool mirth. He patted his leg as if beckoning a favored pet to his lap.
She’s still pissed, he thought with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Rory tossed back her scotch. Before lowering the glass, she caught one square ice cube between her teeth. She casually flung the tumbler over her shoulder. It hit with a solid thump on the carpet somewhere behind the bar. She pulled the steadily melting cube from between her strawberry lips, sucking gently as she did so. Pinched loosely between her fingers the ice slid down her graceful neck leaving a glistening trail on her silken flesh. From her neck, she slid it slowly between the arched valley between her generous breasts. She traced the upper crest of first the right and then the left, briefly skimming each barely hidden nipple.
The corner of the man’s mouth twitched with a single sided malevolent grin. Did she really think she was going to walk away from this little tease show unscathed? Did she think that this would teach him a lesson?
“Rory,” he said quietly.
The untamed quality remained in her eyes. She challenged him with the quirk of her arched brow and a twitch of her ass as she slinked to the marble top desk. She propped against one cool corner. A widening triangle of black marble appeared between her legs as she pushed herself onto it. Her hands were planted between her parted thighs.
“Come over here,” he said in a low, dangerously soft voice.
Her eyelids came to half-mast as she resumed ignoring his orders. She leaned back. Using one hand as a prop, she guided the other over her silk clad mound.
His gaze hardened, “Don’t make me come and get you. You will regret it.”
Her eyes mocked him-dared him to move on her. Her hand moved the thin fabric aside and he watched her dip a finger between her smoothly shaven cleft. She kept her hooded, enticingly evil eyes on him as she slowly pleasured herself.
He stood and slowly moved towards her. She did not stop. She did not so much as bat an eye, although she could feel the storm gathering. That was, after all, her plan.
His first touch was deceptively gentle. His strong hand tenderly brushed one flame colored lock back from her cheek. The next sensation was pain as that same hand fastened around a fist full of hair at the nape of her neck. He roughly pulled her head back until she was forced to look at him. His dark eyes smoldered in barely checked ferocity.
Her open palm cracked him square across the cheek as she strained against his grip. He grabbed her wrist and forced it to the desk where he pinned it. She bucked against him, realizing for the first time that he stood perfectly between her legs.
He brought his mouth down brutally against her snarling lips. His tongue pushed past her teeth to entwine with hers. She responded with violent passion, sucking his tongue and then his lips. He pulled away with a gasped curse. Her wicked lips were red and slick with blood, his blood. He drug his bitten lip across the cuff of his shirt and yanked her close to his face.
“That was probably the stupidest thing you’ve done today,” he ground out before kissing her again.
Not loosening his grip, his kisses descended the slope of her creamy neck. His hand came to her lace-clad breast in an all but gentle caress. With little care for her lingerie, he mercilessly yanked the strap down her shoulder. It ripped free. Still kissing her neck and breasts, he fumbled in his pocket. Cold metal slid between her skin and the front junction of the lace bra. Chills scattered as ice chips across her heated body bringing each rose tipped nipple to attention. The knife rent the expensive lace with ease. He released his grip on her hair and forced the one intact strap as well as the shirt down her shoulder. His menacing eyes feasted on her bared skin as he drew the silvery blade down the smooth plane of her stomach. The silk of her thong proved no more resistant to cold steel than the bra.
Devoid of barriers, she shivered as he drew the blade softly up. The tip scraped roughly across her hard nipples. She knew he was an expert with any blade. Still she had no fear, well, not enough to stop her anyway. He brushed his lips across hers. She could smell the sweet aroma of the Cuban he had been smoking. Her tongue flicked across his slightly swollen lower lip. The knife was poised at her throat. She pushed her hands into his short, dark hair and pulled his face to hers. Their lips crashed together. Her hands came to rest at the collar of his gray Armani shirt. In one movement, she ripped it open. Buttons flew in all directions. His well-muscled chest, with its assortment of tattoos, was bared before her. Her ruthless fingernails dug deeply into his flesh. He pulled her hips to his. His erection was more than evident as it was pressed eagerly against her. She traced its outline with one finger and then grasped him through his pants.
“God,” he gasped, “You are such a fucking bitch.”
Her hands worked his belt buckle quickly, urgently as he shrugged the ruined shirt off. He backed away undoing his fly. She slid off the desk, leaving the shirt and walked to the window. The back lighting of the fire blazing in the hearth would show her magnificent body to anyone looking. She felt his hands on her shoulders and then fiercely massaging her breasts. His hot chest pressed against her back. He planted gentle kisses on her neck and shoulders. His hard-on pressed between her legs as she bent forward, bracing herself on the window casing. With one well-aimed thrust, he was inside of her wetness. One hand gripped her shoulder while the other skillfully manipulated her clit. Her interior muscles held his cock in a vise. His slow strokes caused traitorous quakes to run through her.
He pulled out and turned her around. Her arms came around his neck as she pressed her lithe form to his. Her flawless creamy breasts were a severe contrast to his tanned and marked flesh. She wrapped one long leg around his waist. He lifted her with his hands under her ass. She locked her ankles as he sank to the balls in her. She groaned at the deep penetration and flexed around him. Her long fingernails dug deep into his back. He carried her to the leather recliner. Lowering her onto the soft leather, he did not miss a beat with his smooth thrusts. Her double-crossing body responded to his animalist fucking.
“You’re about to cum aren’t you, you horny little slut?” He whispered as he cruelly twisted a nipple. “You’re going cream all over my cock and my favorite leather chair. What did you think you were going to get? I don’t beg for what’s mine. This is mine,” he said driving himself deeper into her, “and so is this,” he hissed before viciously biting her nipple, “If I want it, I’ll fucking take it.”
His hand came to her throat, a silent threat in his eyes. She smirked at the threat and grasped his ass cheeks, forcing him deeper still. His fingers applied slow pressure, cutting off her air. She closed her eyes and continued moving her body against his, focusing on her own pleasure. No air was entering her lungs, but she still said nothing. She wouldn’t even give him a gasp for gratification. Her strength was fading as everything became far away. Darkness beckoned her. Then air flooded into her lungs when he released the pressure. She could not contain the rich, triumphant laugh. He pulled back, his anger deepening, darkening his face. Her grasp on his ass tightened and she pulled him back into her while pushing herself further onto his shaft.
“Fucking cunt!” he growled, pounding into her with no compassion or tenderness. “Give it up little girl. Whatever game you think you’re playing, you have no idea. My patience has a limit and you have passed it. I’m not an easy trick who thinks you’re doing him a favor.”
All of his words meant little to her. After all, he was still riding her as hard as he could. She leaned forward and bit his nipple, hard. His only response was a sharp intake of breath. Satisfied, she ran her tongue in small circles around the sensitive nub. Her hand snaked in between them and was then cradling his sack. Her long nails delicately caressing the sensitive flesh as she lightly squeezed his jewels. He was getting close, but she would not let him have it yet. She was not finished with her sport. Creating a circle between her index finger and thumb, she gradually tightened it around his tentacles making, in effect, a manual cock-ring.
“God damn it woman,” he snarled pushing away from her. He stepped back, his jaw clenched, right hand balled into a fist.
She rose, trying not to betray how badly her legs were shaking, and slowly circled him. His face was black with rage as he clenched and then unclench his fist. She drug one nail across his chiseled ass cheeks.
“Those are mine,” she purred in his ear. She continued her languid stride, coming face to face with him, “These are mine,” she whispered before tenderly kissing his immobile lips.
“This is mine,” she breathed, tracing a heart shape on his left pectoral and planting a not so chaste kiss on nipple.
Her hand moved slowly down to grasp his unflagging erection. Slowly, fluidly she knelt before him, “And this, my love, is mine,” she ran the tip of her tongue slowly up the shaft, “and I don’t share with anyone. Most definitely with some peroxide blonde who wouldn’t know what to do with it if it came with an instructional video,” she said in a deadly soft voice, no less threatening than his has been, before taking his cock’s head into her hot mouth. Her tongue danced across his corona. Soon he was completely engulfed by her talented mouth, tongue and lips. He found his hands gently tangled in the bonfire of her hair. Wrapping one soft hand firmly around the base of his prick, she began slowly bobbing her head. She ran her long, gifted tongue up and down the underside of his ridged tool, stopping to circle the head or briefly caress his balls. When her mouth was working his cock, her exquisite hands tickled and lightly tugged his sack.
He pushed her head away, his breath coming in controlled waves. His dark eyes met her steady, level gaze and he offered her his hand. She took it and stood without looking away.
His kiss was gentle, but ardent. Her response was equal in both. His hand applied an easier touch to her magnificent breast. Still holding his hand, she lead him back to his favorite chair. Gently, she pushed him into the seat. First, she extended one stocking clad leg over one of the chair arms and then the other over the opposite arm until she hovered only inches above his waiting hard-on. She cast him an impish grin.
“You are such a fucking tease, Red,” he grinned back.
“And that’s one of the top ten reasons you love me,” she replied just before slowly impaling herself on his ridged cock. He groaned as her warmth sheathed him. She slowly undulated her hips, a belly dancer’s skill. As her delicious movements continued, he thrust up from beneath her. His searing mouth covered first one nipple and then the next slowly, fervently tasting the sweetness of her skin.
The urgency between them increased rapidly. There would be no stopping it this time. She threw her head back, forgetting her dexterity as the primal portion of her mind opened releasing the feral creature that would make her pleasure its prey. Her pussy ground into him even as his cock surged deeper.
There was nothing pretty or beautiful about it. Fuck the poets, her orgasm did not blossom or bloom within her womanhood. It exploded, an eighty mega-ton fuel bomb located somewhere near her pussy. There were no soft or feminine moans and groans nor any breathy exclamations of “oh God”. It was all low growls escalating to coarse screams of ecstasy that would have made a Hollywood Boulevard whore blush that came from her mouth.
Following his lovely rider by only seconds, the man felt the orgasmic lava pooling. The intense clenching of her orgasm set him off. His roar was indistinguishable between pleasure and pain as his cock erupted with more force than Pompeii. His body was more prepared for her immense climax than his mind was, letting her contracting muscles milked his prick. Without thinking, he thrust into her once, twice and three times the charm. She arched her back, bending almost double, as her second cataclysmic orgasm detonated. He bellowed as a beast when her wanton body half coaxed and half forced his cock into a second ballistic release.
Panting, she slumped against his chest. She slid her knees into the chair on either side of his legs. Her body still quaked with aftershocks. Between them, their sweat mingled in a sexual after-party. He dropped tender kisses on her cheeks and eyes. She rested in a semi-sleep state against his hard but comfortable body. A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had never had a woman quite so powerful, so manipulative, and so ferocious, so much like himself.