The Dare Collection: April 2018. Stefanie London

She’d get what she wanted this time. No more unfinished business.

      With a grunt, he tore his mouth from hers, pulling his wallet from his pocket, locating a condom and tossing the rest over his shoulder. He tore into the foil with his teeth, sheathing himself while his hot stare toured her splayed-out body clothed only in scanty black lace and four inch heels.

      Harley worked on his shirt buttons, ignoring the mild discomfort of being perched on the table, desperate to see more of him. To touch every inch of him. To feel the spring of his chest hair on her face and the taut ridges of muscle under her fingers.

      She’d barely pushed the fabric over the rounded contours of his ripped shoulders exposing his well-defined pecs and a glimpse of rigid abs when he circled his arm around her hips and tugged her ass to the edge of the table. Clearly Jack was as close to his limit as she was.

      ‘This needs to go.’ He tugged at the filmy black thong, scraping it down her thighs with impatience and a look of fierce concentration on his handsome face. Halfway down her legs he stopped dead, his mouth grim but eyes hot.

      Harley stopped breathing. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Please don’t let him change his mind; leave her hanging here on the edge of ecstasy.

      But he simply stared between her legs, his jaw clenched and his nostrils wide, breathing hard.

      ‘Fuck, you’re beautiful.’ He traced the narrow strip of blond hair until his fingertip rested on top of her clit, his greedy stare drinking her in while she fought the urge to squirm and close her legs.

      She’d never been so thoroughly inspected. So devoured. Warmth spread from her belly, burning beneath his motionless fingertip and snaking a tingling path along her thighs.

      ‘Later, I’m going to eat at you for hours.’ He lifted his eyes to hers, so intense, so full of carnal promise. Just like his words. ‘But now, I need to get inside you.’

      She nodded. Speech impossible. Totally down with that plan. Grown up Jack was hot as hell and she longed to go up in flames.

      The finger on her clit began a slow rhythmic stroke. Harley whimpered, her head falling back against the wall and her eyes fluttering closed. She snapped them back open again when he stepped closer, widening his feet and spreading her thighs with his.

      ‘Stay with me, Harley. Look at me.’ He continued to stroke her clit as he notched the head of his cock into her entrance.

      She’d never been so open before, her previous sexual encounters rather robotic and perfunctory. But Jack completely commanded her body and wheedled his way into her mind, saying exactly the right thing to banish any awkwardness and make her hotter, more desperate, closer to the edge.

      She gripped his waist. They were really doing this. Her breathing turned choppy. Short bursts of air that did little to quench the burn in her lungs or the buzz in her head.

      Jack’s jaw bulged, his hot eyes locked with hers as he pushed inside, one slow, delicious inch at a time. She battled the desire to close her eyes, fighting the immense pleasure he kindled, attacked from all angles. Her thighs gripped his in a feeble attempt to control so much stimulation—stretched from the inside, her sensitive nerves petted outside by his clever fingers, the pulse of endorphins from his eye contact flooding her bloodstream. She was embarrassingly close. And he’d yet to move. She bit down on her lip, staying the waves of delirium, savouring the seconds, the sight of Jack half naked, face taut with the pleasure of being inside her.

      ‘Yes,’ he hissed, flaring his nostrils and fluttering the pad of his finger over her clit in light swipes. He licked his lips, eyes raking over her body. ‘Pull down the cups of the bra.’ He gripped her hips in his large hands, a move that both pinned her to the edge of the table and pulled her towards his steady, shallow thrusts.

      She obeyed, her hands clumsy in her haste to do anything he asked. Because she knew she’d reap the rewards. Already this was better than anything she’d ever experienced. She didn’t consider herself a prude, but she was far from an adventurous lover. But the way Jack made her feel, effortlessly drawing out the hidden exhibitionist she hadn’t known was inside her...she’d become a veritable nympho for the orgasms he promised.

      With her breasts pushed up over the cups of lace, she lost his eyes. He groaned. Then his stare slammed open, his lids heavy as he gazed at the tight peaks of her breasts. He leaned forward over her, lowering his mouth, which couldn’t quite reach due to the awkward angle of her unconventional sprawl on the furniture.

      ‘Help me.’ Frantic eyes darted between her face and her nipple. ‘I want to taste you.’

      ‘Yes... Oh, yes.’ She cupped her breast, lifting it to his hot mouth. Her cry stuck in her throat as he lashed the aching peak with strong swipes of his tongue.

      Then he began muttering in French, words garbled around the flesh filling his mouth, his hips still rattling the table against the wall and his finger still stroking a sublime pulse over her clit.

      She’d never mastered his native language, had no idea what he said, but it didn’t matter. The look on his face told her all she needed to know. He was there, with her, climbing this euphoric peak. And he could have been reciting a grocery list—the foreign language naturally sensual. Or perhaps it was just Jack and the way his sinful mouth caressed the sultry words.

      When he released her breast, new determination shone in his eyes. He jerked his chin, voice gruff. ‘Touch them. Don’t stop. I’ve got you.’ He gripped her hip tighter, fingertips flexing.

      Perhaps he meant he wouldn’t let her fall from her perch on the table. Perhaps he meant he’d take care of her orgasm, they’d take care of it together. But she had no time to ponder. She followed his instructions, embracing the libidinous woman he unleashed, all self-consciousness forgotten.

      She let go of the edge of the table and used both hands to stroke her tingling nipples to attention. The more his eyes darkened to pools of molten metal, the faster she strummed, releasing her cries and moans unhindered.

      Jack grunted a sound of approval, his hips picking up speed and his finger pressing down on her clit with greater pressure.

      Harley whimpered, losing the battle to keep her eyes on his. The table banged the wall as he pummelled her again and again. She locked her ankles behind his thighs, holding him captive, drawing him closer.

      When she opened her eyes again, his stare burned her breasts. ‘Tweak them, Harley, as firm as you like it.’

      Her teeth clamped down on a wail as she listened, pinching and rolling her tortured nipples until her blood sang, a direct path to her clit.

      ‘Yes.’ Another hiss. ‘You’re swelling up.’

      How could he tell? And yet it seemed he was correct, because he thickened or she tightened, the friction between them building in intensity. ‘You’re going to come soon. Look at me.’

      Every command, every bitten-out order should have irked her, but had the opposite effect. Because his words were more like prophesies. And he was spot on. Her nipples ached. Her sex grew slicker, tighter around his shuttling cock. Tendrils of fire shot out over her belly and thighs from beneath his working finger and as she opened her eyes to the unbridled lust burning in Jack’s stare the lightning struck.

      ‘Jack.’ Her throat closed on his name as her orgasm hit, firing every nerve in her body. She clung to him—her eyes, her legs, her sanity latching onto the source of such overwhelming pleasure like a lifeline.

      He gripped her tighter, his fingertips punishing. She didn’t care. She still pulsed around him. Wave after wave of euphoria. He’d lifted his finger from her oversensitive clit, but continued to softly stroke her belly, her thighs and her buttocks, intensifying the aftershocks that rattled her from head to toe.

      But there was no time to recover. His pace picked up once more. Harley clung. Sweat beaded his brow as his jaw muscles bunched and his hips lost some of their smooth rhythm.

      He looked down at her, his fervid stare darting