Duke stood over me, gasping, chest heaving. "Holy motherfucking hell, Fancy," he said, reaching down to lift me to my feet. "That was..."

  I gave him a coy look. "It was what?"

  He wiped his thumb across my lips. "The hottest blow job I've ever gotten."

  I rolled my eyes at him. "Bullshit."

  He flicked open a button of my shirt with one hand, and began gathering the fabric of my skirt with his other. "For real."

  I stood still, reminding myself to keep breathing. "A manwhore like you? I'm sure you've gotten hundreds of BJs. No way that was the best one."

  He frowned. "How do you know I'm a manwhore?"

  His fingers traipse up between my thighs, tickling and teasing and touching on the way up. Brush my slit, and I jerk, thighs clenching, and then I relax myself for his touch.

  "Aren't you?"

  He bobs his head side to side. "I guess, yeah. But why do you assume?"

  "You're gorgeous, you have money, you're a badass commando..." I shrug. "Just stands to reason. Maybe it was an unfair assumption on my part, though."

  He can't help a pleased look from crossing his features. "Gorgeous, huh?"

  I roll my eyes again. "You know you are. No point in fishing for compliments."

  "Yeah, but everyone likes to hear it every now and again."

  "True," I say, on a sigh, as he slips a finger through my folds. "Just because I'm a reality star and on magazine covers and whatever, most guys I fuck just sort of assume I know what I look like and that I don't need to be told that they think I'm pretty. So then no one ever--oh...ohmygod--no one ever says it."

  He slipped that finger through my slit again and again, not quite going in, not quite touching my clit. But still, it felt good. The teasing made me needier than I already was, made me unsure of what he was going to do next.

  "You're not pretty," Duke says.

  I stare at him. "Excuse me?"

  He steps back, using both hands to open my shirt the rest of way, letting go of my skirt. The gray fabric swirls back down around my knees, and I'm left gasping.

  He circles around behind me, tugs down the zipper of the skirt, and it falls to the floor, leaving me naked from the waist down. He pulls the white button down off my shoulders, letting it fall around my wrists. And then, in a series of movements too fast and complicated for me follow, he tied the ends of the shirt around my wrists, binding my hands behind my back.

  "Wait, what?" I tug, but I'm helpless. "Let me go, Duke. What are you doing?"

  He didn't answer. Just stalked back around in front of me, and slid one index finger underneath the elastic band of my bralette, tugging it up over my tits bit by bit until I was bared, the skimpy maroon lace rolled up across the top of my chest. My tits hung free, and my nipples hardened under his gaze.

  "What--what did you mean, I'm not pretty?" Stupid, I know, but I still felt unreasoning panic at the idea that he thought I was ugly.

  Of course he didn't think that. The look in his eyes, the way he was staring at me, eyeing me head to toe, the way his cock, which I just sucked dry, twitched and hardened a little--he thought I was hot. He'd already said as much. He was playing me for a drawn out compliment, I know it. But when you hear a man say those words: you're not pretty...it just kind of automatically hits some nerve inside you, hits your confidence and makes you doubt what you know to be true.

  "You're fucking..." he trailed off, hunting for the right word, standing a foot away from me, not touching, just staring at my tits, "--You're...perfect."

  "Perfect?" Stupid--I'm so stupid. Why did my voice sound so breathless and eager and hopeful, and...unsure? "You're crazy."

  "Eh, that's debatable," he said. "Irrelevant to the fact that you're a perfect woman. Like, completely perfect looking."

  He was behind me again, whispering in my ear, his voice hot and low against my earlobe; his hands appeared around front of me, sliding up my ribcage to cup my breasts from beneath.

  "These? Perfect."

  Then slid his hands down, one hand gripping my hipbone and the other delving between my thighs to cup my pussy. "This? Perfect. I can't wait to get on my knees and see what your beautiful, perfect little cunt tastes like."

  Oh fuck. Oh my fuck. The things he was saying, the dirty, filthy words seared through me, sending desire dripping out of said beautiful, perfect little cunt. Perfect? I've been called a lot of things in my life--hot, sexy, lovely even, cute, beautiful, fuckable, dumb blonde, vapid airhead, no-talent reality star, bitch, slut, whore, 'ten out of ten body, but needs a bag over her head,'--in all my life, nobody has ever called me...perfect.

  He w'asnt done, though. His hands moved around behind me, clutching a double handful of my ass. "This? More than perfect. This ass right here, Fancy? This thing is...mmm. Goddamn. It's fucking incredible."

  My throat closed, tightened, went hot and thick. I swallowed hard, then, blinking. God, I'm such a dumbass, letting his words get to me. He didn't mean them. He wanted to fuck me, and figured he was more likely to get what he wanted if he buttered me up.

  "I'm already a sure thing for at least one fuck, Duke." I endeavored to sound casual, and mostly succeeded. "You don't have to blow smoke up my ass."

  He sidled around front again. His palm completely missed my tits, for some reason, and landed on my chin; weird, I thought he'd have better aim, being a commando.

  Duke cupped the side of my face with his big rough stupid beautiful bear paw of a hand. "But this..."

  His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, just beneath my eye. I had to meet his gaze then, and those eyes of his, good god, those eyes...they burned into me. They seemed able to see my secrets and insecurities, which I work so hard to hide.

  "This, Temple Kennedy. This face of yours?" That big thumb, sliding again over my lips, then my cheekbone. "Your face is the most beautiful part of you."

  "Bullshit." Now...why did I whisper that?

  And why did I sound so...like I was obviously lying? Or maybe I just sounded desperate to believe him, but afraid to.

  He ignored me yet again. Remained in front of me, cupping my face, but his other hand slid around to find my ass again. "And let me tell you something, Fancy. If I blow anything up your ass, it sure as hell won't be smoke." His long middle finger teased up and down the crack of my butt.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh my god.

  Did he just?

  "Is that a hint at fucking me in the ass?" I demanded.

  His teeth sank into my earlobe, and then his whisper huffed hot on my ear. "Not a hint, sweetheart. A promise." He cupped my ass cheek, lifted, pulled it aside, and then let it bounce free. "This ass? It was made to be fucked. Slowly, over the course of hours, until you're begging me to just fuck you and come inside you. And, when I do? You'll come so hard for so long it'll hurt. You'll squirt everywhere."

  His other hand cupped my pussy, a fingertip teasing my clit. "You ever come so hard you squirt?"

  I shook my head. "N-no."

  "Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun, Fancy."

  I was dripping with desire; I felt it sliding down my thighs. I needed him to touch me. I needed him to make me come; Duke has me worked up, has me twitching and gasping and desperate.

  "Stop teasing me, goddammit," I said.

  He slid a finger against my clit. "Wanna come, huh?"

  "Yeah," I whispered.

  "How bad?" He pressed that fingertip against my clit in a light, teasing touch.

  I thrusted against his finger. "Really bad."

  Duke's finger circled slowly, touching gently. The contact had me writhing, pushing my hips forward in an attempt to get more, but he easily thwarted my efforts, continuing to tease me. "I don't know if I believe you, Fancy."

  His chest was hard against my back, his cock a thick, semi-erect ridge between us. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, struggling against the shirt binding my wrists together behind my back. Tried again to thrust against his fingertip.

  "Please, Duke," I whispered.

  "I like that," he growled in response. "Hearing you beg."

  I hissed in irritation. "Oh yeah? It makes you hot and horny to hear me beg, huh? You get off on power trips? Fine, I'll beg."

  I pivoted away from him, stood facing him, hands bound behind my back, naked except for the rolled-up lace of my bralette. I felt the fire sparking in my eyes as I spoke, putting the lie to my plea.

  "Please, Duke. Please," I said, my voice monotone, uninflected. "I'm begging you, make me come. I'm desperate. Oh please."

  His mouth curved in an amused grin. "You're a saucy little minx, aren't you?"

  "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

  He blinked slowly, erotic promise in his eyes, that wild, amused grin on his lips. "It means that wasn't begging." He gripped me at the waist, lifted me effortlessly; my legs went around his body instinctively, and now I felt his cock nudging my entrance, not quite hard yet, but getting there. Enough to tease.

  "No?" I was utterly helpless, hands bound behind my back. I had only my legs to cling to him with and, in all honesty, I liked the way he held me, the way his hands felt on my ass, keeping me aloft without so much as a tremor of effort. "Then what was it?"

  He didn't answer me. Again. Instead, he pivoted and walked out of the room, carrying me into the kitchen. Set me on the counter beside the refrigerator, then pulled me to the edge of the counter. Then...just stood there, staring at me.

  Duke should have looked dumb, standing half naked like he was, wearing a tight T-shirt, his guns still in place in that double shoulder-holster harness, and combat boots but no pants. Like for real, he should look stupid and silly, but he didn't. He looked hot. His cock was almost erect now, and his thighs were thick and heavy with muscle and dusted with reddish hair, and his shirt was tight against his chest and showed off hints of his abs, and just...damn. So damn sexy. I've never really admired a man's legs before, honestly. Like, you look at a buff dude, you don't really look at his legs. You look at his chest, his arms, his abs....his cock. But his legs? Nah. Duke, though, half undressed as he was, I couldn't help but admire his legs, how strong they were, how beautifully, masculine, how muscular they were.

  He didn't look stupid at all. He looked like I wanted him to put that big fat beautiful cock inside me, is what he looked like.

  Which irritated me. I didn't want to want him, as I've already pointed out. Wanting him as much as I did frustrated me--I was annoyed at and disgusted with myself for being so stupid, for being so powerless to fight the desires of my pussy. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be annoyed at yourself? No, probably not. But there I was, sitting completely naked on a counter, legs open, pussy throbbing, a non-stop pulse of need; the throb of my pussy was saying fuck me, lick me, touch me. Wanting him. Staring at his huge cock, now all but fully erect within minutes of blowing his load into my mouth. I hadn't even touched him, which was the shocking part. Was he really that virile? Or was he actually that attracted to me? Both? I hoped for both. It'd be my luck that he'd just be that virile and it had nothing to do with me, which would be a blow to my ego...which wasn't as iron-clad as most people assumed. Far less so, TBH.

  And he just looked at me.

  "I thought you were going to give me an orgasm?" I asked.

  He stroked his cock with his fist. "Oh, I will."

  "When? Because it seems like you're stalling, maybe hoping I'll just let you fuck me instead of holding you to your end of our bargain."

  "I'm waiting for you to beg, Fancy." He said this with a leer, his fist sliding slowly up and down his impressive length.

  "You agreed, Duke. I blow you, you go down on me. That was the deal. Why would I beg you for something you agreed to? Especially when you, as you said, always keep your promises?"

  He sidled closer, fist gliding on his cock. "Because it's more fun when you beg."

  "More fun for who?" I whispered, hating myself for losing my voice at his proximity.

  "Both of us."

  "You already got your fun," I said. "I swallowed your fun about two minutes ago."

  He stood between my thighs, gripping his cock at the root, and teased the lips of my pussy with the head of his dick. And damn, damn, damn...it felt amazing when he did that.

  "Babe," he said, "I don't think you understand how this is going to work."

  He pushed into my pussy, splitting the labia open millimeter by millimeter, sliding into me in torturous, aching, delicious increments.

  "Oh fuck," I whispered, the expletive yanked out of me by the glorious feel of him inside me. "What don't I understand?"

  "Me." He pushed all the way in, taking all of thirty seconds to fully penetrate me. "How I work. What I do, and how I do it."

  "Oh god." Another gasping curse jerked out of my mouth, beyond my control as he pulled back. "Obviously not. You should--oh Jesus--maybe you should explain."

  "I'm good at a lot of things," he said, beginning slow, deep, rhythmic thrusts, "but there's two things I'm a goddamn master of."

  "And that would be what?" I even managed to sound sarcastic; go me.

  "Fighting," he murmured, pushing into me slowly. "And fucking," he said this on the withdrawal.

  "I see."

  His hands, up until this moment, had been braced on the counter on either side of me. Now, he slid them up my body to cup my breasts. With his cock inside me and his deep, powerful voice resonating in my ear, every last part of me was hypersensitive, so the brush of his rough palms over my breasts left me quivering and gasping.

  The gasps turned into a sudden, surprised shriek as he pulled back in the same slow rhythm and then, without warning, slammed into me hard and fast. I was bounced backward on the counter, my tits jiggling as he drilled home hard enough to lift me off the counter.

  "I don't think you do see," he said. "I bet you think I'm fucking you right now."

  His cock drove in, pulled back, drove in, and with each thrust I wobbled and toppled closer and closer to orgasm, each drive of his dick pushing me higher and higher.

  There was no mistaking how close I was to orgasm. I mean, it's not hard; I'm not a difficult woman to read in that regard. I get all flushed, my cheeks turn bright red, my skin breaks out in a sweat, my pussy tightens, and I lose all ability to not make stupid porn star sounds--ohhhh, oh yeah, fuck yeah, oh my god, oh god fuck me harder, breathy erotic crap like that. Plus I'm a whimperer. I don't usually scream, but I do a lot of gasping and shrieking and whimpering. Funny thing is, out of the dozens of men I've fucked, only three have ever made me come during actual intercourse, and I think all three instances were flukes.

  This?

  This was intentional. Duke knew exactly what he was doing. Each thrust was designed to push me closer. He changed his angle, the force and speed, the depth, so I never knew what I'd get, how he'd thrust into me, and the not knowing was driving me mad, in the best possible way. And then his hands cupped my tits, and his fingers pinched my nipples, and his breath blew warm on my neck, his waist gliding against my thighs.

  I'd had my eyes closed as he fucked me to orgasm, but now, now I had to open my eyes. I had to watch as his cock pushed into me. My pussy was stretched so tight, and his cock was so huge, disappearing into me and pulling out. It seemed impossible that I could take all of it, but I did. And it was unbearably hot watching his cock slide into my pussy, watching his face shift expressions as he fucked me.

  "You're...oh god...you're not fucking me?" I asked.

  His grin was feral. "Not even close. I'm just getting you ready."

  "It looks like you're fucking me, and it feels like you're fucking me."

  "This isn't fucking, Fancy."

  "Then what is it?"

  "I just said. I'm getting you ready."

  "Ready?" I gasped as he thrust in three times in quick succession, short sharp battering thrusts that knocked me to the shuddering brink of climax. "Ready for what?"

  He leaned closer, his face inches from mine, his eyes hot and fierce and wild, arrogance and lust warring in his gaze. "For this."

  Duke's mouth crashed against mine with sudden, bruising force, his tongue claiming my mouth as his with ferocious dominance. I had no chance of resisting the kiss. All I could do was succumb, give in, be kissed senseless. His fingers found the elastic band holding my hair in place and tugged it free, yanking the bobby pins out, and then my hair was falling loose around my shoulders in a blonde cascade. The moment my hair was free, he wrapped it around his fist to control my head, and with my hands bound behind my back and his cock driving into me, I was...utterly helpless. I should have hated it. I should have been furious, or terrified. Instead, the helplessness, the fury and the mastery of his kiss...drove me over the edge.

  I broke the kiss to throw my head back and shriek on a gasping intake of breath, the climax starting low and deep.

  He pulled out of me as I began coming, leaving me aching and crazed and desperate. "NO! Duke, no! Please, please, god please keep fucking me!"

  There was no sarcasm that time, no attitude, only raw desperation, genuine begging.

  The climax lost its edge as I lost the stretching fullness of his cock inside me, as I lost the stimulation.

  Duke dropped to his knees between my thighs, grinning up at me. "Beg harder, Fancy." He touched his tongue to my clit, and a zing of heat blasted through me.

  "Fuck--oh fuck, Duke, please." I met his gaze, let him see how real I was. "Give it to me, Duke. I--I need to come. Please, please."

  As I breathed the final plea, he buried his face between my thighs and drove his tongue into my pussy and dragged it up to my clit, and I arched my back and gasped.

  "Like that?" He breathed.

  "Yeah, except shut up and keeping going."

  He laughed, but dove back in, and this time slid three fingers into my slit as he latched onto my clit. Two quick thrusts of his fingers, one hard suck around my clit, and I was gone. My feet planted on his shoulders, my head and neck braced against the cabinet behind me, my thighs falling apart, my head tipping back, a stacatto series of shrieks ripping out of me as he worked my exploding orgasm into a frenzy. His fingers pumped in and out of my channel, and his tongue lashed my clit in a furious onslaught of side-to-side movements, drawing my shrieks into breathless gasps. He shifted tactics then, slowing his fingers, curling them against me high inside, massing some point just behind my clit inside my pussy, his mouth suctioning around my clit, his tongue moving in slow circles.