The speed and ferocity with which she responded to him were far beyond anything she had ever written, much less experienced in real life. She focused on the feel of his cock scraping her interior walls. She could not feel any twitching or thickening of his shaft, telltale signs he might be nearing his own release. There was only his ruthless stroking of her to ecstasy again and again. She tried to deny him, tried to withhold that last small inkling of herself, but he would have none of it.
Roark swatted her again along the top and sides of her bottom, making her cry out, wailing in both rapture and distress as she came not only from the driving force of his cock, but from the harsh strikes of his hand.
“Rule five… are we up to five? Doesn’t matter. The next rule is you never withhold your responses, be it when I fuck you or you crying when you’re being spanked or welted. Your responses belong to Daddy, and you will not try to keep them from me. Try it again, ever, and I will make you regret the day you created me.” He punctuated each word with a hard surge forward or a stinging blow to her backside. Sage came repeatedly, shuddering in his arms again and again as he took what they both knew to be his.
“One more time, kitten,” he crooned in her ear. “Come for Daddy and milk his cock dry.”
He redoubled his efforts, riding her with a surety bordering on arrogance. She was certain she had nothing left to give him, but knew he would have what he wanted. The fact he could so completely undo her the first time they were together was frightening. Roark demanded her response as easily as her obedience. Nothing she’d ever experienced—either in real life or in prose—had prepared her for the sexual dominance he inflicted on her.
Sage’s wails became moans, then morphed into whimpers when the next orgasm bore down on her. Thankfully, she felt his impending release. She cried out one last time and collapsed in his arms as he spurted what felt like great ropes of cum into her wrecked sheath, bathing it with his creamy essence as though it could soothe the fire raging within her. With a last brutal thrust, Roark forced her over the edge into a void where time and space no longer existed—only this man and being used by him. Her pussy clamped down, contracting all along his length, milking every last gush of his semen and pulling it deep inside her. His release seemed endless, and Sage could do nothing but endure as he held her in place.
When at last it was over, Roark swung her up in his arms and carried her back to the bed, drawing back the covers and laying her down on the side furthest from the door.
“I’d like to freshen up,” she said quietly as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots and socks. Then she registered the fact that while she had been naked, Roark had been fully clothed with only his fly open, so his cock was free to fuck her.
“Why? You won’t stay that way for long. I’ve waited a long time for you, Sage. I don’t believe there’s a way for me to be pulled back, but I’m not taking any chances. For however long I’m here, I mean to make the most of it and of you. If I’m still here in the morning, we’ll try to figure out who tried to have you killed. If I’m not, you call Holmes at Scotland Yard and do exactly what he tells you.”
“I’m not sure my need to fuck you is enough to keep me free from the pages of your books,” he continued, “but I suspect keeping you alive is. In any event, I won’t go back without one hell of a fight, but if I get sucked back in, and you disobey me or put yourself in danger, I’ll find my way back to the physical world, and the first thing I’ll do is welt your ass then fuck it. Trust me, little girl, you don’t want your first ass fucking from Daddy to be when he’s pissed and looking to teach you a lesson.”
“So, you are Roark?” she whispered.
“Who the bloody hell else would I be?” he answered, mildly annoyed and standing up to finish undressing.
He crossed over to the bed, unashamedly naked. She rolled to the opposite side of the bed, watching him and wincing as her bottom briefly made contact with the mattress. Why the hell should he be? She’d described him more than once as a sexy beast, and he was. He unfastened his vintage Rolex, placing it on the dresser with his wallet before returning and placing his gun on the nightstand furthest from the window.
“Shove over, Sage. You know I always sleep closest to the door.”
Sage scooched over, careful to avoid her butt making contact with the bed again, then didn’t move. She had to be dreaming, or whoever tried to kill her had given her the worst—or best—acid trip ever.
Like he always did in her books, Roark rolled her away from him, chuckling when she gasped from the brief contact of ass to mattress. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back to snuggle against him, his cock nestled in the cleft of her buttocks, his hand resting possessively on her mons. She tried squirming away to get a little distance between them, but he just pinched her clit and kept applying pressure until she wriggled back where
