The Dare Collection: April 2018. Stefanie London

his plunging tongue. He ceded, ramping up her pleasure until her thighs trembled against his face and her breathing grew choppy, punctuated with mewls of delight.

      And then he stopped.

      She cried out, neck arching.

      The anguished sound lodged a lump in his stomach. But he leaned back, blowing cool breath over her quivering sex. Wordlessly, ignoring the drunk but slightly bewildered expression on her face, he encouraged her into a sitting position so he could undo the bra and toss it to the floor. He wanted to see all of her, every inch of her creamy skin, every freckle and scar, every shard of ice in the confused glare she levelled on him.

      Her questions flittered across the stormy green of her eyes as her breaths slowed. He looked away, soothing the sting of his desertion with a long, languid pull of his mouth on each nipple that left her panting once more. When her hand slipped between them towards her clit, he grasped her wrist, gently restraining. He lifted the hand to his mouth, kissing each fingertip in turn. ‘Patience, chérie. I’ve got you.’

      She’d start cursing soon. His balls tightened at the flecks of defiance flickering in the hot stare she levelled on him. Good for her.

      ‘Now...’ he licked his lips, his eyes burning over her again ‘...where was I?’

      Before she could speak or even whimper, he dived back in. This time, her clit swelled almost immediately, the primed nub pouting towards his eager lips and tongue. He laved and sucked, smiling at Harley’s shocked curse and bitten-out cry of triumph as she renewed her clasp on his head.

      Not content to take her medicine, this time, she lifted her thighs over his shoulders, her heels pressing his back, urging him closer. Not that he’d be anywhere else.

      For now.

      She mewled out her pleasure as he sucked down hard, gifting her his finger inside her tense warmth.

      ‘Yes,’ she cried. ‘Oh, right there, yes.’

      He pumped the finger, finding that sensitive spot inside her that had her twisting his hair and rocking her hips into his mouth.

      This time, he steeled himself. At the first flutter of her internal muscles around his finger, he pulled out. His mouth left her, muscles straining to overcome the clamping of her thighs around his neck.

      ‘No,’ she yelled, her head thrashing. She glared at him along the length of her naked body, her beautiful breasts jiggling with her seesawing breaths.

      His voice was thick, transformed by his own lust battering down on him. ‘Soon.’ He kissed her thighs, which trembled under his lips. ‘I promise it will be worth it.’

      At his words, realisation flicked across her face. She rolled her eyes, her face twisted with agony as she flopped back on the cushion. Her thighs clenched, tiny spasms twitching her abdominal muscles.

      The wait killed him. He stroked her trembling thighs, the cheeks of her ass, her flat stomach, quiet, reverent words of encouragement and reassurance spilling from him in French. Not that she understood his praise or his declarations of her beauty and what she did to him, but she must have gleaned the tone, because she looked down at him, trust shining in her passion-glazed eyes.

      This time, he gave her everything. Two fingers burrowed into her tight channel, his mouth feasted like a starving man and he growled out his own frustrations against her swollen lips and clit.

      He’d primed her so effectively, it took seconds to send her over. Her whole body lifted from the chair when she came, the power of the climax arching her back to an almost impossible angle, her cries bordering on screams and her fingers clamped around the short strands of his hair as if she’d tear it from his scalp.

      He was relentless. His mouth working at her until his jaw ached, he sucked every drop of her arousal, swallowing her taste over and over again. All the while testosterone roared through his blood, triumph hot on its tail. In those protracted seconds she gave herself completely. Her sublime reactions, total surrender, beyond his wildest imaginings. Her buy in to his one-upmanship challenge with himself a hundred and ten per cent.

      Perfect.

      Spent, she pushed him away. Her stare shone from beneath heavy lids and she whispered, ‘Wow.’

      ‘Was it better?’

      She nodded. ‘So good. You’re clearly some sort of sex guru. Architect by day, orgasm whisperer by night.’

      He laughed and eased to a standing position, his cock rigid, tenting his pants. She sobered. Her sexy stare traced a path up his thighs, along his abs, finally settling on his eyes.

      She licked her lips. Slow. Seductive. Salacious.

      He hardened further, although he wouldn’t have thought it possible. He needed to get out of these pants before his balls turned blue. Her mouth, the flushed, plump lips, the peak of her tongue, the twitch of a smile, held him captive. Fuck. Payback would slay him. If he ever saw that mouth around his dick... Game over.

      ‘Does it work for you too?’

      Clearly her mind was more attuned to his than he realised. She slithered from the chair, settling on her knees at his feet, eyes wide, hair gloriously tousled, a satisfied glow to her creamy skin. She tugged at his zipper, her bottom lip trapped beneath her teeth on one side. His mind turned to mush. What had she asked him?

      ‘What?’ Fuck, was that his voice? He needed to get a grip. Now. If she put her mouth anywhere near him in his current state...

      ‘Orgasm denial. Does it work for you too?’ She yanked the trousers over his hips, the tight cotton boxers following until he was trussed at the ankles by his own clothing. Hell, no. No way could he last if she thought to torture him as he’d done her.

      He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her lower lip, wiping away the indentations left by her teeth. He should claw back control. Find a condom and finish this inside her, but clearly the memo stuck in his brain, his legs rigid and his feet glued to the spot before the goddess at his feet.

      Clearly she’d waited long enough for his answer. She gripped the base of his cock and closed her eyes, running the tip of her nose along his length as she dragged in a deep breath. She moaned, her eyes opening as she reached the tip, her mouth placing a chaste kiss there.

      Every muscle strained towards her, his cock bobbed before her and she smiled, a feline grin that both chilled him and boiled his blood.

      Could she be any hotter?

      And then she stopped.

      How he managed to keep the roar inside he’d never know. She sauntered to the end of the bed and retrieved her clutch. With a small smile that didn’t bode well for him, she reached inside and retrieved a tube of lip-gloss. With two quick swipes, she’d painted her mouth that shade of blood red that almost brought him to his knees.

      With her eyes fixed on his, and her lips parted, she returned.

      ‘Now, where was I?’

      He cursed at his words repeated back at him. Harley dropped to her knees again, her hands at his hips as she stared up at him, all wicked eyes and pouting lips. While he clenched and uncurled his fists, struck dumb, she dipped her head. Her tongue peeked out tracing a path from the base of his shaft. At the most sensitive area, just below the crown, she paused, her tongue swirling there, before placing a firm kiss on him. She leaned back, eyes sparkling, admiring her handiwork.

      ‘And what do we call this in French?’ A small smile and a tilt of her head.

      Fuck, he loved her sass, her playfulness.

      ‘Harley.’ The bite of warning gave his voice a harshness he’d regret if he weren’t so close to plunging inside her and taking what he wanted. What his strung-taut body craved.

      She smiled, the merest brush of her lips over his crown. ‘It will be worth it, I promise.’ Her eyes sparkled. And then she engulfed him. Her hot, tight mouth practically swallowing him whole, while she held his stare