The abrupt change of pace and tactic should have ruined the orgasm, but somehow it didn't, instead made me come all the harder. I was struggling against the shirt binding my wrists, thrashing against him, hips pumping, shrieking and gasping as he ate my pussy with such skill that I couldn't seem to stop coming, could only continue thrashing, orgasming, wave after wave wrenched out of me.

  "Untie me," I whispered, as soon as I was capable of speech. "Please. Let me touch you."

  "If you can talk, you're not coming hard enough."

  He stood up, lifted me off the counter with one arm under my knees and the other around my shoulders. Half a dozen steps, and we were at the futon. I was tipped backward, his face over mine, his lips glistening with my essence. He set me down and then stood in front of me, his cock erect and still wet from being inside me.

  "Lick me," he ordered. "Taste your pussy on my cock."

  And, like the desperate slut I was, I obeyed him. I leaned forward, hands still bound behind me, and licked up the side of his cock, tasting my pussy mingling with the salt of his skin.

  "You want me to untie you?" he asked.

  "Yeah."

  My orgasm was subsiding now, aftershocks shuddering though me.

  "Lay down on the futon."

  I moved to lie down as instructed, head by one armrest, feet at the other. He wedged one of his legs between me and the back of the futon and kept the other on the floor, then bent over me, tugged my leg aside, and licked my pussy, once, slowly. His cock was over my face, hard, sticky from my pussy, begging for me.

  "Suck my cock, Temple." Another command.

  And, yet again, I did what he told me. I wanted to, though. That was the only reason. I'm not the type to let myself be ordered around by anyone. I've walked out on executive producers who thought they could order me around. Some guy thinks he can tell me what to do? Hell no. But Duke...I had no control over my reactions. He commanded me to take his cock into my mouth, and so....

  I lifted up and captured his cock with my mouth, took him to the back of my throat, and then sank back down, tilting him away from his body so I could slide my mouth up his cock from tip to root. His mouth was on my pussy, his tongue moving, his lips kissing, as if he was making out with my vagina. Slow, thorough. Pushing me from subsiding aftershocks to writhing as another climax welled up inside me, and this time the hums and moans and gasps were muffled by the thick salty musky tang of his cock in my mouth, nudging the back of my throat as I lifted my face up toward his body, taking him deeper each time.

  Whatever magic it was he had over my body worked again, bringing me to orgasm within a couple minutes, making me shudder and writhe, struggling to free my hands, orgasming, and sucking his cock all at the same time. I was lost to the experience, totally committed. No holding back. I felt him push past the back of my throat as I lifted up, groaning around him as I shuddered and writhed and came, and then I had to open my throat as he went deeper, my breath snorting out of my nose he filled my throat. Too much, too much--and then he was gone, pulling out of my mouth as if sensing what I needed before I even had a chance to make a sound.

  I felt his hand under me, moving, pulling at the shirt, and then my wrists were free and he was tossing the shirt across the room. Instantly, my hands flew out to clutch his cock, stroking, plunging, caressing, feeling my own saliva slick on his shaft, still moaning as wave after wave of my second climax shattered through me, rendering me helpless to do anything then except hold onto his erection and shriek and gasp and come.

  He devoured me through it, licking and suckling every last shred of orgasm out of me, until I was limp and gasping.

  And then he stood up. "That's two orgasms in ten minutes, princess."

  I was still panting, shuddering, thighs trembling from aftershocks. "What?"

  "Our deal?"

  My brain wasn't firing on all cylinders just yet. "Deal?"

  He leaned down over me, and I smelled my pussy on his breath. I didn't mind it--my pussy smelled pretty good, if I say so myself, and when he kissed me earlier, I tasted myself on his mouth, which also wasn't unpleasant. "You go down on me, I go down on you. If you come more than once, I decide what we do next."

  "Oh." I stared up at him. "So...what are we doing next?"

  I wasn't sure what to expect. Anal? Another BJ? I wasn't even sure what I wanted.

  "Stand up." His voice was low and quiet, but still a very clear command.

  One which, yet again, I was powerless to refuse. So I stood up, and Duke took my place on the futon.

  "Fuck me," he ordered. "Ride me until we both come."

  "Condom?"

  He quirked an eyebrow and reached for me, pulled me closer. "I was just bare inside you."

  "That was a mistake," I said, resisting his pull, both literal and metaphorical.

  He shook his head. "Fancy, you think I'd have done that if I wasn't clean?"

  "How do you know I'm clean and protected?"

  "I don't."

  I shook my head. "Then you're an idiot."

  "A very, very careful idiot," he said. "You're the only girl I've done anything like this with, ever. I'm safe, always. But you...you make me crazy. This whole thing...it's fucking crazy."

  "I'm always safe too, but..."

  "My boss makes us all get tested for just about everything, STD and otherwise, on a regular basis, since we're overseas so much. I've got years worth of clean reports I can show you."

  "I believe you," I said. "But still...condom?"

  "Tell me why. The truth."

  I blinked at him for a moment, and then felt the truth bubbling out of me. "I don't want to deal with the mess, for one."

  "And?"

  I sighed. "And...you feel too good bare inside me."

  "So what?" I hesitated, and he reached out, grabbed me by the hips, and pulled me closer. "Tell me why that matters."

  "I don't want to like you. I don't want this to feel so fucking good. This whole thing, it's...it's nuts." I resisted his efforts to pull me closer yet. "Yeah, I may do one night stands, but I'm usually tipsy enough to not care. I don't do...this, not sober. I don't--everything we've done, it's crazy, and it's not me. You're breaking all my rules, and letting you fuck me bare...that's too far."

  He eyed me for a long moment. I was standing between his thighs, his cock standing flat against his belly, my hands on his knees. I was seconds from betraying myself, from saying fuck it and climbing on him, sliding that fantastic, talented cock of his inside me and fucking him until we both came.

  I even had images of that dancing in my head, his hands on my hips lifting me, pulling me down on him, his bare cock sheathing into my core, my tits bouncing, hair flying.

  He nodded, breaking my mental fantasy. "I can respect that." He stood up, pushed past me. "Then I guess we wait."

  I blinked, stunned. "Wait...what?" I turned and watched him disappear into the gun room and return with his shorts in hand. "That's a deal breaker for you? Are you for real?"

  He stepped into his shorts, his massive erection making it difficult for him to zip and button. "No, it's not a deal-breaker, I just don't keep condoms here."

  I frowned. "You...you don't?"

  He shook his head. "Nope. This is a stash spot and safe house. I've never brought anyone here. Not even my boss knows this place exists." His gaze met mine. "So, no condom, no sex. I get it, and I respect it."

  "But, I--"

  He moved to stand in front of me. "Unless you're changing your mind?"

  I wavered, and then mentally cursed myself for being stupid. "No." I forced the word out. "No, I'm not changing my mind."

  "Then we'll wait." He cupped the back of my neck, pulled me close; he was still hard as a rock inside his shorts. "When we finally do get to fuck...it's gonna be intense, Fancy. You better believe that."

  "Isn't that uncomfortable?" I glanced down at his erection, tenting his shorts.

  "Yep. But it'll go away eventually." He ground himself against me. "Unless you're volunteering to help me out?"

  I shouldn't. I'd get carried away. But I knew what frustration felt like, what it felt like to be aroused and horny and have no way of alleviating it.

  His erection looked painful.

  And he had given me not one but two orgasms in a row, which was more than any man had given me in one day...well...ever, probably.

  "You're not saying no." He sounded bemused. "Means you're considering it."

  "Would you stop me?"

  He snorted. "Hell no. Princess, if you want to help me out with this monster hard-on, I sure as fuck ain't gonna stop you. I won't ask you to, but I won't stop you either."

  "It would only be fair. You did make me come twice."

  He laughed. "Babe, ain't no such thing as fair in this life. I don't give a shit about fair." He lost all trace of humor then. "I don't keep track, and I don't do things to be fair or equal. We get a hold of some condoms, Fancy, honey, I plan on fucking you into a stupor. I plan on making you come so many times you'll lose count, and I won't expect you to do shit in return. That's not what sex is about. It's not about things being fair, or who gets off first, or most, or hardest. It's about making each other feel good. That's how this works, for me. So don't make this about shit being fair or whatever."

  "I just--"

  "Be honest with yourself about why you'd be helping me out."

  Why would I do this?

  Because he makes me horny, that's why. Because his cock is a thing of beauty, and I can't get enough. I'd had him in my mouth, had him in my hands, even had him in pussy for a far too short amount of time. And I wanted more. I didn't care if it was fair. I didn't want to help him out with his erection because I really cared about him being uncomfortable, although it did look painful to be so hard. I also knew it would go away after awhile...he'd even said so himself. No, the reason I wanted to help him out was for me. It would be for me. Because I wanted it. Because I wanted him--damn his stupid gorgeous self.

  I groaned, and then hooked my finger in the waistband of his shorts and led him toward the bathroom. I shoved him in ahead of me.

  "Sit," I commanded.

  He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Oooh, getting bossy. I like it." He sat on the closed lid of the toilet. "Now what, mistress Temple?"

  I glared at him. "Now you shut up." I reached for him, unzipped his shorts, flipped open the button, and his cock sprang free. "No talking, no moving, no touching. Just sit there and watch."

  "Yes ma'am." His grin was eager, arrogant, and willing.

  5: BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS

  Well good god and hot damn, this girl was insatiable

  Like...holy motherfucking hell, she's such a complicated, gorgeous, insatiable, difficult, wild little piece of ass.

  But no, she's not just a piece of ass--don't be a dick, Duke: she's way more. She's class, but she's also open about the fact that she likes sex, and that she has a lot of it. I like that. I get judged a lot for being a self-proclaimed manwhore, even some the guys on the team--except Thresh--sort of shoot me side-eye sometimes when they watch me bang a different chick every night of the week, and sometimes more than one in a night. Temple would get that. She wouldn't judge me for it, just like I don't judge her for it.

  She's fucking difficult, though. Like, I want to assume she's just another rich spoiled celebrity chick with more looks and money than sense or personality. I also want to assume she's down for just about anything, that we can just bang and be done, like we're both used to. But it's obvious both of those assumptions would be wrong. The blowjob she gave me earlier was, as I told her, the hottest I'd ever gotten, but it was because it was unpracticed, a little clumsy. She wasn't sure of what she was doing, obviously didn't do it a lot, as she admitted. But she took care of my cock with an eagerness and even an affection that I hadn't expected and didn't know how to handle. She enjoyed it. Not because I was so delusional to think she got some kind of weird sexual rush from it, but because she liked doing it, for reasons I couldn't begin to fathom. It was...fucking hot. Everything she did was fucking hot as hell, and it drove me nuts. Like, I just don't get her. Why she does what she does, why she says the things she says. I don't get her resistance to this. All we're doing is fucking. Neither of us expected anything more than casual sex, good old no-strings-attached fucking.

  But then she did things I didn't expect, looked at me in ways I couldn't fathom, and it threw me for a loop, and I was left trying to figure out what was going on in that gorgeous head of hers.

  She held her ground on not having sex if I wasn't wearing a condom, which I totally respect. The fact that I'd been about to drill her without one was honestly freaking me the fuck out, because that's a hard and fast rule of mine which I've never broken, not ever, no matter what, no matter who. And I didn't even stop to think about it. I don't know this chick. Like, at all. We just met. Yet I put my dick in her bare, and never even stopped to think about bagging my shit. Weirder yet was that neither did she, and I get the impression that's as abnormal for her as it is for me. I honestly had to pull out and switch tactics because I was about to blow inside her from just a few thrusts, which is insanely fast for me. She just...does something to me. Bare, skin to skin...god, it felt incredible. Too good, way, way too good. So good I needed more, but was a little wary of doing that again, for fear of embarrassing myself in a way I hadn't since the first time a girl put her hands down my pants. But Temple, the way she felt, the way she touched me...she drove me nuts. And I couldn't figure it out.

  Like right now, after denying us the sex we were building up to, instead of taking the out I was offering, no pressure, no big deal, figuring we'd fuck all the harder for it later, she shoved me into the bathroom, ordered me to sit down, and now seems to be working up the courage to do something. Or figuring out what she wants. I don't know. I can't read the girl. I just don't know what she's planning.

  I liked that. It made me nervous, but I liked it.

  She reached out, wrapped those slim, small, pale fingers around my cock and stroked me, top to bottom. At first, that was all she did, and I was fine with it. More than fine. If I could hold off coming indefinitely, I'd be content to sit here and just let her touch me like that, just watch her hand slide up and down, watch her thumb caress over the top. It was incredible, how good just her hand felt. I leaned back against the tank of the toilet, laced my hands behind my head, and watched.

  And she just stroked me. One hand, then the other. And after a while, both, hand over hand, the way I liked it best.

  "Goddamn, Temple," I growled.

  She'd told me to shut up and hold still, but sometimes that was just impossible. Like right then, there was no way I could keep still, no way I could shut up.

  I was on the edge, riding the cusp of climax and holding it back as hard as I could. My eyes flew open so I could watch what she did when I came.

  "Don't warn me," she said.

  I did my best to hold still, and just watched as she switched back to one hand sliding up and down my cock, going fast now, and obviously recognizing how close I was to losing it. Kept the quick strokes going, staring at my cock with fascination.

  Then she glanced up at me, as if gauging my reaction.

  And then, seconds before I was about to come, she bent over me. Her hair draped across my belly obscured her face, so I reached out and brushed her hair aside, holding it out of the way so I could watch my cock slide between her lips, watch the way her eyes slid closed.

  "Jesus," I grunted.

  She had her hand around me still, and resumed stroking, going faster than ever, and I was flexing my hips, grunting, cursing under my breath from the effort to hold back, to not fuck her mouth like I wanted to so damn badly. God, her mouth was wet and warm, and it felt like fucking ecstasy as she slid her mouth down my shaft and back up, fist sliding hard and fast.

  No warning, she'd said, so I gritted my teeth and flexed hard, one hand in her hair, the other clenched behind my head.

  She was sucking hard, fist grinding in a blur. Her tongue swirled around my cock, licking away the cum as it seeped out of me, and she kept going, sucking and jerking, until I was arched fully off the seat, groaning helpless curses, both fists buried in her long sun-blonde hair, gripping the shimmery, silky locks with all my strength and trying desperately to not crush her against me.

  And, at that exact moment, still coming so hard I was dizzy and breathless, Temple's mouth halfway down my throbbing shaft, the soft globes of her tits draped against my thighs--

  A tall male form appeared in the hallway, holding a suppressed 9mm. He stopped as he came to the open doorway of the bathroom, pistol swinging to cover the opening.

  Temple, head down, eyes closed, utterly focused on giving me the single most erotic moment of my entire motherfucking life, never even saw him.

  I reacted instantly, instincts and training kicking in faster than thought. My pistol cleared my holster faster than it ever had before.

  It's funny how time slows down in those moments--I had time, somehow, between drawing my Beretta and pulling the trigger, for a thought to flash through my head: please don't bite me, Jesus fuck, Temple, please don't bite me--

  I pulled the trigger twice, aiming for center mass, the concussions coming one after the other so fast they sounded like one report.

  Temple screamed and fell backward, hands over her ears and, thank fuck, she didn't bite down in shock.

  My rounds hit dead center, two red circles spreading across the intruder's chest, right over his heart.

  The silence was sudden and deafening. Or maybe it was the ringing of my ears from two gunshots in a tiny, tiled-in bathroom that had me momentarily deaf.

  And then Temple's voice, soft, fearful. "Um, Duke? What--what the hell?"

  I blinked, glanced down at her. She was sitting naked on the floor of the bathroom, huddled back against the corner where the tub met the wall. She had a string of my come dribbling down the side of her chin, about to drip off. I holstered the pistol and reached out slowly, carefully, aware that she might freak after the sudden violence. She flinched, brows drawing down, jaw hardening, but she didn't cringe out of reach. I slid my thumb down from the corner of her mouth, wiping my come away. Only, the last droplet dangling from the edge of her jaw dripped free and landed on the upper swell of her breast. We both glanced down at it, and then I used my index finger to wipe that away too, lingering a little, just because.