He lifted her nightgown to her hips. He loved her nightgowns, the more prim and prissy the better. He loved having something to push up, to lift, to slide a hand under, to unbutton, to untie, to open, to grip with rough fingers, to pull off over her head and toss across the room. He didn’t just love to see her, he’d said of her schoolmarm nighttime attire. He loved unveiling her. He loved to work for her. He loved the tease.

  He parted her legs with his hand and cupped her vulva, pressing his palm into her clitoris as his mouth found her mouth.

  Her brat knew how to kiss. All his lovers had been older women—a fetish, but a good one in her opinion. They’d taught him well. He kissed like fire and she pushed her hips into his hand was he pressed his tongue past her lips. She forgot all about the frost on the window and the icy wood floors and the snow on the vines. Outside, it was January. In the bed, it was summer. The blankets were a tropical island. The sheets lay atop the surface of the sun.

  Nico slid on top of her and pushed his cock against the entrance of her vagina. She lifted her hips, tilting them at the precise angle necessary to take every inch of him all the way into her. He wrapped his arms around her lower back and held her in place, in that precise place and entered her straight and true.

  “Ahh…” he breathed, the exact sound she made when she’d wrapped her cold hands around the mug.

  “Don’t come,” she said, hotly breathing the order into his ear. He laughed softly. “Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come.”

  He grinned down at her, a grin that said silly woman. “I can last longer than ten seconds inside of you.”

  “I mean, don’t come at all. Not until I tell you.”

  “When?” he asked.

  “If,” she said. “Not when.”

  His grin was gone. Hers remained in place.

  Theirs was a new love, less than a year old, and that baby love was still learning how to walk and say its first words. She was Nico’s first dominant, his first sadist. Learning how to submit to a woman had been a challenge. But he had the one trait all teachers seek in a prize pupil—he loved to learn.

  “If,” he said, nodding.

  “Get on with it,” she said, waving her hand. “Fuck me. I didn’t put your cock in me for my health.”

  He laughed again and started to move in her. For a few minutes they did nothing but breathe and fuck. Nico could fuck as well as he could kiss. He thrust deep and slow into her, dragging it out and always at the necessary angle so that the shaft of his cock grazed her clitoris going in, grazed it again coming out. He knew how to fuck her long and hard without their bodies ever separating. When he went in, he stayed in.

  Nora closed her eyes and clung to his upper arms as she worked herself up and down on his cock. Her heels dug deep into the soft mattress as she pushed up, up, up, and against him. Up, up, up, helping him to fuck her deeper, rougher. Up, up, up, she heard his cock moving inside her wetness.

  “Shit,” he said, but in French. Merde. He dropped his head onto her shoulder. “I have to stop for a second.”

  “You can,” she said. “But stay inside me.”

  He stayed in her pussy, but rolled the both of them onto their sides to ease the pressure. He was panting. She stroked his chest with her fingernails. Poor boy, she thought but did not say. Poor mistreated boy.

  “You’re so wet,” he said, his hand in her hair. “It’s killing me. I want to die in you.”

  Ah, the French. La petite morte. The little death. The orgasm.

  “And I want you to live in me. And I own you, so I win.”

  “Don’t you want my come?” he asked, pouting.

  “I always want your come,” she said. “I want it on my breasts, and I want you to rub it into my skin. I want it on my stomach and on my back. And sometimes I want it in my mouth so I can swallow it. And I want it deep in my pussy. Sometimes in my ass. I always want it. Every drop of it in—”

  He groaned and buried his head against her chest. His little gambit had backfired on him. She chuckled like a super-villain in a cartoon.

  “You must hate me,” he said.

  “Did you know a man’s sperm can live inside a uterus for a couple of days?” she asked. “Sometimes when you’re out of the house working and I’m alone in here, maybe reading by the fireplace, I think about how your sperm is still inside me hours and hours after we last had sex. And it makes me very happy to know it’s inside me.”

  He groaned again until he laughed. “Did you insult a witch? Is that what happened to you? You insulted a witch and she stole your heart?”

  “Two days from now, I’ll be all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, lying in my bed in my house in New Orleans, and your sperm will still be inside me.”

  “If you let me come,” he said.

  “Right,” she said. “If.”

  “And if I come before you tell me I can?”

  “You wouldn’t,” she said, stroking his sweat-dampened hair.

  “No, I wouldn’t.” He met her eyes and she saw the determination in them, the determination to please her or die trying. Ah, her boy was learning.

  “Good boy,” she said.

  He raised his fingers to the buttons at her throat.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked as he slowly opened the buttons of her prim nightgown.

  “If I’m going to be tortured,” he said, “I want to be tortured with your nipples in my mouth.”

  Fair point. She allowed him to pull the gown off her shoulders, to bare her breasts to him. He took her left breast in hand, cupped it and lifted it. Nora sighed with pleasure as he suckled her. She ran her fingers through his thick wavy hair and pressed her hips into his. On their sides, facing each other, they slowly fucked as Nico kissed her breasts.

  “You know why I torture you like this?” she asked.

  He shook his head, but didn’t answer. His mouth was full of her.

  “Because I’m in love with you,” she said. He smiled and kept right on suckling. “There’s a saying—you always hurt the one you love. It’s especially true for sadists. I never grew past the stage where girls kick the boys they have crushes on.”

  “You have a crush on me?” he asked, pausing between swirling licks of his tongue around her nipple.

  “Your cock’s inside me. Is that really a surprise?”

  “It never hurts to hear,” he said and returned to her nipples.

  “Yes, I have a crush on you, you twerp.”

  “What’s a twerp?” he asked. They were always stumbling across English words he didn’t know.

  “You,” she said. “You’re a twerp.”

  “So a twerp is a handsome young man who is good in bed?”

  “Precisely,” she said. He grinned before attaching her breasts again with renewed intensity.

  Nora was not about to lay down for that. She rolled Nico onto his back and straddled him, hands on his chest to steady herself.

  Nico groaned loudly as she moved her hips on his cock.

  “Good?” she asked.

  “You’re evil,” he said.

  “You’re just figuring that out?”

  She pulled off the gown and balled it up, tossing it over her head like a basketball player performing a trick shot.

  “I’m going to ride your cock for…” She pretended to check her watch. “…a long time.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Don’t come. Don’t come. Oh, and don’t come.”

  Nico nodded, took a shallow breath. He looked like a man being led toward a firing squad. Nora would have felt sorry for him if she hadn’t been so turned on.

  She rocked her hips on him and his cock shifted inside her as she moved. Nico’s hands lay on her upper thighs, but as she pushed against him, his fingers tightened their grip on her. Poor boy. Poor sweet boy.

  Nora stroked his chest while she fucked him from on top, rubbed his chest and scored it with her fingernails. He wasn’t much of a masochist—not yet, anyway—but he did love being scratched. Red fingernail marks—claw marks—made him feel wanted, he’d said. If she left red marks on his stomach, he’d lift his shirt every time he went to the bathroom to see the marks in the mirror. It made him feel like he was so desirable to her that she lost control of herself during sex and turned into an animal.

  She rode his cock hard as his grip on her hips tightened. Nora gazed at him as she rode him, at his fingers digging deep into her thighs, at his head on the pillow, at his closed eyes, at those perfect sculpted lips of his slightly parted as he panted, panted like a man in pain. Ah, she’d think of this sight on the plane.

  “Why are your eyes closed?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking of the last time I had the stomach flu,” he said. “It’s helping.”

  “Was it bad?”

  “It wasn’t as much fun as you riding my cock.”

  “Well,” she said, “what is?”

  He opened his eyes and laced his fingers behind the back of his head. “Nothing,” he said, but in French. Rien.

  Nora leaned in and kissed his lovely mouth that said such lovely words in such a lovely language. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close.

  Slowly, she rolled her hips in a tight spiral, clenching her inner muscles around his cock. “Don’t come,” she said. “Don't come. Don’t come. Don’t come.”

  “Don’t go,” he said. “Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.”

  Nora stopped moving. She pulled back and down at him, tears in her eyes. “I have to go,” she said.

  “I know,” he said. He gathered her long black hair in his hands and pulled it off her face, held it at the nape of her neck so he could kiss her throat. “But I had to try.”

  “You know I can’t go unless you let me,” she said.

  “You think I wouldn’t drive you to the airport?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “So…” He wagged his finger at her. “You’re in charge of my coming,” he said. “And I’m charge of your going?”

  “Only fair, right?”

  “I might not let you go,” he said.

  “Well, I might not let you come, either.” With that, Nora slipped off of him, separating their bodies.

  “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Let’s take a long hot bath together before we have to leave for the airport.”

  She ran their bath and they held each other in the steaming water, kissing and touching and scrubbing and laughing. After breakfast, they piled her luggage into his Land Rover and headed to the airport.

  He drove. She sat in the passenger seat. He kept his hands on the wheel. She kept her hand on his knee. They didn’t speak for the first fifteen minutes.

  “I didn’t mean to kill your boner,” he said.

  “I have got to stop teaching you English phrases and not telling you what they mean,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I know what it means. I meant, you know, what’s it called—lady boner?”

  “I never dreamed ‘lady boner’ would sound so good in a French accent.”

  “Nora,” he said, turning his head quickly to look at her before putting his eyes back on the road where they belonged.

  “I love you,” she said. “I shouldn’t, but I do. You’re eleven years younger than I am, and you live across the fucking ocean.”

  “What were you thinking?” he asked, shaking his head.

  “I wanted to play with you this morning because it was either laugh or cry. And then you had to go and be wonderful and sweet.” She sighed heavily. “Never do it again.”

  She squeezed his knee. He lifted her hand off his leg and raised it to his lips. One kiss. Enough said. They drove the rest of the way to the airport in tender silence, Nora’s hand on Nico’s knee, Nico’s hand on her hand.

  One hand on the wheel.

  They arrived at the airport and Nico started to park in the closest spot.

  “Not here,” Nora said. She scanned the parking lot, saw a large paneled van. “Next to that one.”

  He raised his eyebrow but did as he was told. The boy was learning.

  He parked, turned off the engine.

  “Leave it on,” Nora said.

  Then he knew what was happening. Nora glanced out the window. No one around.

  “Backseat?” he asked.

  “Backseat,” she said.

  In seconds, they were on the bench seat and tearing into each other. Nora yanked Nico’s thick leather jacket off and tossed it into the front seat. He reached under her tight black turtleneck sweater and unhooked her bra. He yanked her skirt up. She hadn’t bothered with panties, only stockings and garters since she knew this would happen. Of course it would happen. If she wanted something to happen, it happened.

  Lying on her back in the cramped backseat, she reached for his belt, his jeans button. He was so hard his cock popped out when she unzipped him, already hard as a rock and straining toward her. He yanked her skirt up and pushed her thighs wide. She raised her hips in invitation. He spread her vulva open at the seam and positioned his cock at the hole. With a rough thrust he was in her and after that there was no talking, no kissing, no sweetness, no love.

  Only fucking.

  He pushed her sweater and bra up to her neck as he rode her hard into the worn leather seat. The cock in her was brutal. He was pistoning into her, vicious as a jackhammer. She was barely aware of him kissing her nipples or pinching them or sucking them. There was only the thick organ pounding into her, almost angrily, and the little explosions in her throbbing clitoris, the contractions of her vagina as he speared her.

  She slid her hands into his jeans, cupped his perfect twenty-six-year-old ass in her two hands and felt as his muscles tightened to iron bands as he rutted on her. He drove his cock into her pussy like a nail into soft wood. She dug her hands into his flesh as he pounded her, goading him on with quiet commands. Harder, harder…

  It didn’t seem possible he could fuck her any harder, but they found a way.

  He grabbed her leg, pushed it so wide she had to wrap her knee around the front seat. She was so open he could have fisted her to the wrist if she’d wanted him to. And she did want him to, so she told him to…

  Nico’s chest heaved at the order. He didn’t answer, just dug his teeth into the strap of his watch band on his right wrist and wrenched it off. She would remember the image of his teeth at his wrist, his teeth biting leather on her death bed.

  He brought his fingers together and pushed the tips into her vagina. The hole widened as he pressed in, and her inner muscles spread as he pushed. Nora grabbed the headrest of the driver’s seat and the door handle behind her to steady herself as he twisted and turned his fingers until he’d pushed past the knuckles, the palm, finally the wrist. When it was all in, she looked down and saw his hand splitting her wide open. She felt so filled she would burst. He fucked her with his hand, lifting her hips from the inside. Every knuckle of his hand brushed every nerve in her cunt. She came hard with a quick vicious spasm that brought her shoulders off the seat.

  She panted, gulping huge breaths as he worked his hand carefully out of her.

  “Can I come?” he asked. Asked and begged, begged and pleaded.

  “Yes, you can come,” she said.

  He turned her onto her hands and knees. He wrapped his arm around her waist and entered her from behind. For about ten seconds, there was nothing happening in the whole wide world except his cock slamming into her and his testicles brushing against her still-throbbing clit with each thrust.

  He held her breasts, squeezing them roughly as he slammed into her hard enough to shake the car down to the chassis. He grunted his breaths, whimpered once, and then went silent. When he came, she knew it was happening because he said her name, but he wasn’t saying it to her. He was simply saying it.

  Nora…

  When he pulled out of her, she winced. Thick warm semen that poured from her. Nico staunched the flow with a handkerchief out of his jeans pocket. She took it from him and pressed it between her thighs as she straightened her clothes, hooked her bra, ran her fingers through her hair.

  Nico sat back and watched her, silent. She turned and kissed him, but only quickly. If it were a long kiss, she’d never leave.

  “Can I go?” she asked.

  He grazed her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

  “Yes,” he said. “You can go.”

  About the Author

  Tiffany Reisz is the USA Today bestselling author of the Romance Writers of America RITA®-winning Original Sinners series.

  Her erotic fantasy The Red—the first entry in the Godwicks series, self-published under the banner 8th Circle Press—was named an NPR Best Book of the Year and a Goodreads Best Romance of the Month.

  Tiffany lives in Kentucky with her husband, author Andrew Shaffer, and two cats. The cats are not writers.

  Subscribe to the Tiffany Reisz email newsletter to stay up-to-date with new releases, ebook discounts, and signed books:

  www.tiffanyreisz.com/mailing-list

  This FREE ebook sampler features excerpts from seven Original Sinners Pulp Library titles. Download at www.tiffanyreisz.com or wherever ebooks are sold.

  The Mistress Files collects five of Mistress Nora’s favorite client stories from Kingsley’s files, from a rock star with a secret to a male “switch” with an itch for more than just pain.

  Previously released as two separate novellas, Immersed In Pleasure and Submit To Desire are now available in one book.

  You’re invited to New York City’s hottest dating event: Kingsley Edge’s annual King’s Trust Charity Auction. This novella features Daniel from The Gift/Seven Day Loan, the very first Original Sinners publication.

  More Books by Tiffany Reisz

  The Original Sinners Pulp Library

  THE AUCTION

  IMMERSED IN PLEASURE/SUBMIT TO DESIRE

  THE LAST GOOD KNIGHT

  LITTLE RED RIDING CROP*