Page 83

I yank the snaps on my work shirt open and shrug it off. I shove my jeans and briefs down to the middle of my thighs, and my cock springs free. It's thick and heavy, flushed dark at the head, and already leaking.

I wrap my fist around it and stroke it once, slow, from the root to the tip, while she watches. A drop of precum beads at the slit and runs down the underside. I lean over her with my weight held off her ribs and drag the wet head across her lower belly, so she feels how hard I am.

Her tongue touches her bottom lip. Her eyes stay on my cock, and her hips start to lift toward it before she drops them back to the canvas.

I slide down and drag my open mouth up the inside of her knee and along her thigh. The skin there is soft and hot and damp, and her thigh quivers against my lips.

When I'm close enough to feel the heat of her pussy against my cheek, I bite the inside of her thigh. I bite hard enough to leave a mark.

Her whole body jerks. She swears through her teeth, then settles back onto the canvas.

"Look at me, Delilah."

She lifts her head, her eyes finding mine.

"You know whose ring you're in?"

"Yours."

"And who's calling the shots?"

"You are."

"That's right." I spread her thighs wider. "Now lie back and let me take care of you."

I put my mouth on her. I drag my tongue up the whole length of her pussy, slow and flat, from her opening to her clit. She tastes like salt, and she's so wet that it runs onto my chin.

She cries out, and her thighs snap shut around my head. I pry them back open with both hands and pin them wide against the canvas.

I suck her clit into my mouth and work my tongue over it, hard and fast, until her heels drum the canvas. Her hips jerk against my mouth, and the bottom rope creaks in her fists.

I pull my mouth away while her clit is still throbbing. She makes a sound like I hit her.

I sit back on my heels between her legs and haul her hips up onto my right thigh, so her pussy rests on the denim bunched there. Her shoulders and head stay flat on the canvas. I take her hips in both hands and drag her slowly up the length of my thigh, then back down.

She gasps. The denim is coarse and warm from my skin, and she's so wet that a dark stain spreads across it under her.

I drag her along it again, harder, so her clit grinds against the thick seam of my jeans. I can feel how swollen and slick she is through the cloth. Her hips go exactly where my hands put them.

Small, high sounds come out of her. Her belly jumps, and her mouth falls open. Her thighs clamp around my leg, and I feel her pussy clenching against the denim, fluttering hard and fast.

She's right at the edge. I stop her there, with my hands locked on her hips and her pussy pressed to my thigh, and I don't move her again.

She lies there with her knees shaking and her clit throbbing against my jeans. Her hips twitch toward me once, and she stops them herself. A tear runs out of the corner of her eye and down into her hair.

Plenty of men have watched me ring that bell, but none of them ever obeyed it the way she just did.

"Is that all you've got, Hollister?" Her voice shakes, but her chin comes up anyway.

"It's not even the first round."

I lift her hips off my thigh and settle them across both thighs, with her legs spread wide on either side of me. Her shoulders and head stay flat on the canvas, and none of my weight comes anywhere near her ribs.

She's spread open in front of me, wet and flushed and swollen. I fit the head of my cock against her opening and hold it there, barely inside her. She trembles with the effort of not pushing down onto me.

I push into her bare, all the way to the root, in one hard stroke.

She cries out. Her pussy is so tight and hot around me that I have to hold still or come right then. I feel her stretch to take me, then clench, and clench again. The bottom rope jerks against the posts in her fists.