Page 111 of To Catch a Sub

He looked back at her eyes. “Reach down and spread your pussy lips. You should be able to get it so your clit rubs against me as you ride.”

Shifting her weight to one arm, she reached between them. Her labia were already stretched given the girth of his cock, but she spread them wider, especially at the top, then ground her pelvis down, almost fusing their bodies together.

“Small movements,” he ordered. “Little thrusts. Concentrate on your clit.”

“But I want to make you come,” she whispered. “I want…I want to know you want me enough to lose control.”

His expression softened, gaze moving over her face before returning to her eyes. “I think I would burn the world for you, if you asked.”

His words sank into her soul even as she started to rock in small motions.

“I want to collar you and keep you naked in this room. I want you aching for me with every breath you take.”

If only he knew that she already did. That since the moment she’d seen him back in Manchester, she’d ached to feel his touch. Finding out their kinks aligned had been a delight, but not really a surprise. Not after the way he’d handled her the night they first met years ago. There had been hints of dominance in the way he touched her.

“I want you safe and smiling. The idea of something happening to you makes it hard to breathe.”

If she hadn’t been balanced on the edge of orgasm, she would have said something back. Ideally a teasing comment designed to back them both away from the meaning barely hidden in what he’d just said. The past few weeks of Colette’s life had been riddled with fear, but this was the most dangerous moment of all.

It was arousal that saved her from dwelling on his words. Nothing, not even his pseudo confirmation of his feelings for her, could distract her from her mission. Desire was a powerful force, and right now her bone deep need to feel him come inside her trumped everything else.

Colette’s clit rubbed against the coarse hairs above his cock, the slight friction delicious. Pleasure built, stacked high and teetering, ready for release.

The tension of the moment stretched, almost unbearable. She wanted to come, she wanted this deep pressure to release and relax. For a moment she thought about asking permission, because that might be enough to push her over. Except this wasn’t a scene, not really. He was issuing commands, but that was just who Landon was. Even in vanilla sex she was sure he gave orders.

This wasn’t Thief and Master Landon, this was Colette and Landon.

Forward, back, forward, back. With each small thrust his thick cock filled her and her clit rubbed against him. Yet, she couldn’t find her own release.

She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate and chase her orgasm, but it was his words that finally unlocked the orgasm.

“Come for me, love. You’re safe. Let go. I need to feel you coming on my cock.”

The mix of sweet and sexual was unexpected and perfect.

Colette sobbed as she fell, tumbling through a glittering darkness as her body trembled and heat swept through her. Her scalp prickled and her toes curled. It went on and on, and just when she thought it was done, Landon started to thrust up into her, pounding his cock into her orgasm-tight body.

That prolonged the pleasure, and she braced her hands against the headboard, holding herself in place for him.

Landon’s groan triggered a fresh wave of pleasure, and she swore she could feel the heat of his release deep inside her. His grimace of pleasure as he came looked almost like pain, and she understood it.

Eventually, his hips fell back to the bed, his breathing heavy. For a moment Colette indulged herself, collapsing against his chest. She could feel his exhales on her hair, and his body was warm and hard under hers.

It would be so nice if he wrapped his arms around her. Even nicer to sleep beside him, his big body curled around hers.

But Landon didn’t move, and after a few more breaths, Colette pushed herself up. She slid carefully off his semi-erect cock, then climbed off the bed.

The mattress rustled as he sat up while she shook out her night dress.

“Colette.”

The softness in his tone made her want to scream.

“We both needed a release,” she said. “And that’s all this was.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it.”

It was bullshit, and she did know it, because sometime in the past hour Colette had fallen hopelessly in love with him. Or maybe she’d already loved him, and what had happened tonight was the structural failure of her final defense of stubborn denial.