Timeless by Brynley Bush Page A

I’m beyond caring about anything except the feel of Marcus inside me, claiming me as his.
    But the broad head of his cock is against my pussy instead, pushing against my entrance. I arch back into him as he impales me, sheathing himself in my wet heat until he’s balls deep. My bent over position allows him to penetrate me deeply and his impossibly thick shaft stretches me almost painfully. My ass is sensitive from the belt, and the path of hair that leads to his cock scrapes against my raw skin, igniting nerve endings I didn’t even know I had.
    He fists one hand in my hair and pulls me up so that I’m half standing and half bent over, completely off balance and dependent on him to hold me up as my hands can’t reach the cushions anymore. Just to ensure my helplessness, he grabs my wrists easily in one hand and holds them behind me. He takes advantage of my vulnerable position, guiding me back and forth on his cock. I love the way he makes me feel helpless, the way he dominates me. It’s completely and paradoxically liberating.
    With one hand gripping my wrists and the other tangled in my hair, he moves inside of me, claiming me a little more with each deep thrust. He pounds into me relentlessly as my need gathers again. My senses are overloaded with the masculine scent of him, the heat and power of his hard muscular body behind me, and the feel of him moving so forcefully inside of me.
    Blood roars in my ears as my pussy ripples around him and I come with a gasping cry. He grunts and plunges into me once more, so sharp and so deep that he touches the center of me, and then I feel him come on the heels of my orgasm, his cock jerking as he spills his hot seed into me.
    Afterward, he lifts my boneless body into his arms and carries me to the other side of the couch, where he sets me down gently.
    “Stay here,” he instructs.
    I fight back a smile. As if I could move.
    Moments later he’s back with a warm, wet washcloth, and he cleans me tenderly, gently wiping his seed from between my legs before gathering me back into his arms. I have never felt more cherished. I snuggle into his chest.
    “Are you going to kick me out again now like you tried to this morning?” I ask.
    His finger tilts my chin up to look at him. His chocolate eyes are unfathomable as he brushes his lips softly over mine. “No. You said you wanted to explore your boundaries, so that’s what we’re going to do. First I’m going to feed you and let you rest a little. Then I’m going to tie you up, make you come until you beg for mercy, and fuck you until you’re so incoherent my name is the only thing you can remember.”

 
 

Chapter Seven
Marcus
     
    I’m going straight to hell and I don’t even give a damn. The woman I’ve dreamed about for ten long years is sitting at my kitchen table wearing nothing but my t-shirt, shifting gingerly in the hard wooden chair as she reads my case file because her ass is red from my belt, and all I can think about is the sweet taste of her, the way she responds to my touch like she was made for me, and the way her eyes shift from a dark golden green to amber in the moment that she gives herself over to me. And I’m a fucking bastard because I know I’m going to send her home tomorrow and never speak to her again.
    I should have told her no when she asked me to punish her. I could have stopped after I used my belt on her, but there’s no way I was giving her that kind of pain without the counterbalance of indescribable pleasure that can go with it. Yin and yang. Dominance and submission. Pleasure and pain. The two merge together to create a wholeness that completes both of us like nothing else can. And to be honest, playing with her like this—the intense power play that’s so evident between us—is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Dominating any girl is a gift. But when a girl as strong and smart and independent as Ariana hands you her power and trust, it’s fucking