The Dare Collection November 2019. Anne Marsh

      I take the box. ‘Lie on the bed.’

      She obeys, her movements slow and sensual as if she wants to put on a show for my eyes only. As if she knows she’s driving me mad, pushing me every inch as far as I push her. Because she’s right. Maybe we do both need to get lost, and this is the best way.

      With hands that could tremble from the adrenaline surging in me, if I wasn’t wound so tightly, I deposit the box beside her feet and strip my shirt overhead, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip and her eyes follow my every move. I retrieve a bottle of lube, watching every subtle nuance of her reaction when she sees what it is.

      She’s excited, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and like the impatient, self-sufficient woman she is, not content to wait, she slips her hand between her thighs to touch herself.

      I place the lube next to the box and take off my dress trousers and boxers, my eyes glued to her hand working her clit. ‘Don’t come. Not yet.’ I stand over her, scooping her head up from the bed by the back of her neck so I can angle her mouth up to mine. I kiss her until we’re both panting and then I break free.

      ‘Fuck, you’re so sexy. I want to take you to a place no one else has. I want you to remember me, just like, when this is over, I’ll never forget you.’

      I have no idea where that comes from, but I accept its truth. It’s too late to take it back anyway.

      ‘Yes. Cam, yes.’

      So she feels it too, that we’re skirting dangerous territory. That, if we’re not careful, our feelings could become all snared up in this thing we’ve started. But neither of us has room in our lives for that complication.

      I flip the box open and reach inside for the vibrator. ‘Tell me to stop if this gets too intense, okay?’ I flick the hidden switch so the device emits a barely audible hum. ‘Lie back.’

      She listens, abandoning pleasuring herself to sprawl back on the satin bedspread with her arms slung casually over her head.

      Perfect.

      Splayed out for our pleasure.

      I lean over and kiss her, my tongue duelling with the push and slide of hers until she’s panting and writhing once more. Then I touch the tip of the vibrator to one of her nipples. She arches off the bed, a ragged moan torn from her throat. I break free from the kiss to watch my handiwork, sliding the toy to the other nipple in order to drag out another whimper.

      ‘Open your mouth.’ I trail the black phallus over the curve of her breast and along her breastbone. Her lips part and I slide the tip past to her waiting tongue, which she laves seductively over the toy before wrapping her mouth around the shaft.

      The sight is so erotic, I take my cock in my free hand, offering it a few lazy tugs in appeasement for the torture I’m putting us through. Orla watches me, her eyes widening, but then she abandons the toy and reaches for my hips, tugging me forward and over her so she can take the head of my cock into her mouth in place of the vibrator.

      I grit my teeth, grunt a few unintelligible curses and then slide the now wet toy back to her nipple. But I’m done teasing us. With a groan of protest I pull back and position myself between her thighs. I lap at her clit, sliding the vibrating toy up and down her inner thigh as I do to stimulate as many nerves as I can.

      Orla grips my head, her fingers twisting and tugging. I keep the suction on her clit slow and subtle while I work the head of the sex toy inside her tight pussy, plunging and mimicking what my own body is desperate to do. But not yet. I have plans. Plans I hope will lead us one step closer to our end goal.

      While I keep up the tonguing of her clit, I discard the vibrator and reach for the lube and butt plug.

      Sensing my movements, Orla lifts her head from the bed and looks down.

      I pull back, needing to hear her confirmation. ‘Do you still want this?’

      ‘Yes.’ No hesitation, just a blaze of challenge burning through the desire in her beautiful green eyes.

      ‘Do you trust me?’ I’m a fool, I know, but her answer matters more than just physical oblivion.

      ‘Yes, oh, Cam, yes.’

      I slide my tongue over her opening back to the tight bud while I slather the plug with lube. But Orla’s not content to lie back and simply feel. She settles on her elbows and watches me, her mewls and moans of encouragement a guide to her pleasure.

      When her hips begin to buck and her hands grow greedy, tugging on my hair as she rides my face, I press the tip of the plug to her rear. It’s small and she’s so close, it slides in with minimal resistance, but her moans grow to cries of pleasure and my beautiful, sexy Orla starts to chant my name like a prayer, filling my head and my chest and the parts of me that want more than her body with euphoria.

      I keep up the suction on her clit, adding slow twists of the plug, while I watch her face with rapt attention, seeing every streak of pleasure. That she trusts me with her body, with her act of sexual exploration, resets my priorities. I can be myself with her; like this we’re just a man and a woman enjoying our near violent chemistry.

      No amount of money, extravagant spending or working can re-create this feeling. This is real.

      She may have had her fingers burnt in the past, she may not want a relationship, but now she’s embracing her sexy side. Hell, I’ve lost count of who’s challenging whom here, because she’s almost more woman than I can handle.

      With one last twist, one last flick of her clit, she comes, her neck arched back on a long cry that I’m worried will cause complaints. But then I’m past caring because she collapses back onto the bed, tugging me down on top of her and spreading her legs wide to accommodate my hips. She holds my face between both palms, pressing kisses to my mouth as I hold my weight on my arms, braced over her.

      ‘Thank you.’

      I smile. ‘What for?’

      ‘You know what for. That was…oh…incredible.’

      My ego inflates. I press a gentle kiss on her lips, overcome by tenderness for this dauntless, exceptional woman. She lifts her legs and crosses her ankles in the small of my back, her eyes widening with renewed sensations as she moves with the plug in situ.

      The tip of my cock slides between her lips and I wince at the sharp burst of pleasure. ‘Want me to take it out?’

      She shakes her head and tilts her hips so I’m engulfed in her heat. ‘No. I want you, Cam, now.’

      I roll my hips forward, working my way inside, the tightness enough to make my eyes roll back, but I find her slick, swollen clit with my thumb and rub out any discomfort she might feel at the dual penetration.

      ‘You okay?’ I bite out, taking it as slowly as humanly possible. And I am only human, never more so than when I’m with this woman, who makes me feel exposed, and vulnerable, and ten feet tall all in the same heartbeat.

      ‘Yes, better than okay. You?’

      I groan against the side of her neck, placing a tender kiss there where her skin smells fantastic—pure Orla. ‘You have no idea.’

      She presses her mouth to mine, a strange intensity on her face, and she doesn’t stop kissing me until we come, me seconds after her, wondering how in the world I’m ever going to get enough of Orla Hendricks.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      Orla

      I LOOK AWAY from the view of the Persian Gulf from my office window in Dubai’s International Financial Centre and try to refocus on the business proposal on the computer screen when all I can see is Cam’s face, his sexy, playful grin and his sparkly eyes, which always seem alight with animation.

      Somewhere