Something long and hard poked Sylvie’s behind. She sleepily opened her eyes. ‘What the hell?’ she grumbled in protest.
‘Get used to it sweetie. This is your new alarm clock!’ he announced, working his cock between the cleft of her bottom cheeks. Connor was packing wood and raring to go. He woke up feeling rested, which was a miracle, seeing as he’d only gotten five hours sleep last night. He was relaxed, and wonder of wonders, happy. Pushing her sleep-mussed hair to the side, he began to nuzzle her neck, covering her shoulders and back with soft, wet kisses. His hand burrowed under her arm and cupped her breast, then pinched and tugged the nipple. She muttered and tried to slap his hand away. This was not the reaction he was hoping for. Sylvie was obviously not a morning person! His hand slid down her belly and between her legs. A second later his finger was tracing small circles around her clit.
‘I’m trying to sleep here!’ she bristled, pulling the covers up over her head. ‘You were snoring like a buzzsaw on steroids all night. I just fell asleep two hours ago. Leave me alone!’
‘You’re a testy little wench aren’t you?’
She turned her head to frown at him. ‘Did you just call me a wench? What the fuck is that about?’ she hissed.
‘Language,’ he lectured, frowning at her. ‘We’ll need to work on that potty mouth of yours!’
‘Will you please go away and let me sleep!’ she raised her voice in irritation.
Undeterred, his fingers began vigorously rubbing her nub.
This was the third time in less than eight hours that he was trying to screw her. He was positively insatiable. ‘What are you? Some kind of sex fiend? Did you OD on Viagra or something? Your prick’s gonna fall off if you keep this up,’ she warned.
‘Hardly,’ he smirked, clutching her mound and maneuvering her into position. She might be grousing, but he could feel moisture pooling between her legs. ‘Me thinks little Sylvie protests too much. Just like a hangover sweetie, what you need now is the hair of the dog that bit you.’ With that he buried his cock in her.
Sylvie’s eyes shot open. She was fully awake now. The man was infuriating! Where did he get off thinking he could just dip his dick into her anytime he pleased? Even when she was half-asleep and unable to consent! Well, he had another thing coming! She opened her mouth, ready to read him the riot act, but stopped. Her core was twitching and fluttering. A few hours with Connor and she was turning into a nymphomaniac. Her mother was probably rolling over in her grave right now! He slid in and out of her effortlessly. The rhythm of his movements set her on fire. She was going to melt. Sylvie repeatedly tightened and released her muscles. Her warmth caressing his shaft.
They moved in perfect unison. His cock pumping in and out of her, his fingers worrying her throbbing button. Connor groaned when Sylvie started moaning. They erupted together; orgasms coursing through their bodies. Careening. Convulsing. Raging. Rushing. Ripping. Fast. Furious. Leaving them spent and struggling to breathe.
Sylvie wanted to go back to her room to get cleaned up, but Connor insisted they shower together. He was a great lover but that didn’t change the fact that he was a bossy, annoying son of a bitch.
She was still shy in front of him. He’d only seen her completely naked in candlelight. When the dancing shadows and the flickering glow of the flames hid her body’s imperfections. Being naked in broad daylight and subjected to his relentless gaze was quite a different matter. She was extremely uncomfortable having him see her this way. It made her feel ill at ease and vulnerable; especially the way he continually ogled her. He’d pointedly stare at her tiny tits, her broad ass, or her hairless mound. Then he’d grin. A big, smug, self-satisfied grin. Making her flush with embarrassment.
Connor tried to lead her into the bathroom, but she refused to move. He didn’t let that deter him. Sylvie was being obstinate and he didn’t like obstinate brats. They’d have to work on her attitude. He gave her two playful but stinging slaps on her bottom. Before she could protest, Connor spun her around, grabbed her by the shoulders, and literally pushed and steered her into the bathroom and the big glass enclosure.
The shower was the size of most people’s entire bathroom. It had white marble walls and an intricately designed mosaic floor. Twenty-five brushed nickel jets were imbedded in each wall. He flicked a lever on the outside to start the flow then opened the etched glass door and stuck his hand in to test the temperature. Satisfied that it would neither freeze nor scald them he pushed her in.
A hundred tiny streams of water pummeled her from all directions: up, down, sideways. They beat against her skin, massaging her flesh until she was limp as a noodle. Sylvie was actually enjoying the sensation until he decided to help her wash herself. He lathered up a huge natural sea sponge and began to soap her back, working it up and down her spine a few times. Satisfied that her back was well scrubbed, he slipped his soapy fingers into her crack. Sylvie tried to pull away when they began exploring her puckered bottom hole. That’s where she drew the line. She turned away from him, only to find herself facing a corner where the marble walls met.
‘Connor no! Stop! I don’t like that!’
‘A little shy are we?’ he said, his voice low and oh so sexy. He pushed her further into the corner until the walls wedged her arms in place. His left hand was pressed firmly on her back, while he slowly traced the opening with the fingers of his right. She stiffened and squeezed her butt cheeks together as tightly as she could. He laughed, tapping his finger against her hole. ‘We’ll leave this little virgin for another time, shall we?’ Then he began lathering her plump nether lips instead. He stroked the foaming sponge back and forth between her legs until Sylvie thought she’d scream. Before she knew what was happening, he’d pulled a nozzle away from the wall and began to adjust it until a twisting stream of pounding pulsating water poured out of it. He pointed the nozzle at the backs of her thighs, then brought it up between her legs, washing off all the soap. Next he aimed it at her bottom. She was squirming, but he had her pinned. He directed the jet between her bottom cheeks and moved it back and forth until he saw her begin to twist and jerk nervously. He held it there as she shifted her weight from side to side and wiggled her hips trying to deflect the hot pulsating stream. The water was threatening to force its way into her. She could feel her sphincter relaxing under the relentless assault.
‘Connor please,’ she begged.
Seeing her obvious distress he decided to go easy on her bottom this time, but she needed to stop this foolishness. She was going to be his…completely, every part of her, every nook, every cranny, every fold, every opening! She’d best learn that…and soon! He moved the nozzle around to her front and directed the stream at her clit. He held it there. She was still squirming. ‘Spread your legs!’ he commanded. When she didn’t immediately obey him he placed his feet between hers and began to forcibly slide them apart. As soon as he got her into position he began to pummel the little lump of flesh with water.
‘Ah! Ah!’ she yelped. The flow was too hot, too hard, too fast. She couldn’t control herself. Sylvie shuddered, as wave after wave of jolting contractions pulsed out from her core. She went limp when the last spasm ended.
‘No, no, no. We’ll have none of that! Think of it as medicine. A cure for what ails you. You have to take it all Sylvie. Every bit!’ He kept the water pulsating against her hypersensitive little knot. She was whimpering and groaning. Her clit throbbed with sensation. Alternating wildly between sharp pain and equally intense pleasure. She tried to twist, turn, wrench herself free; but she was pinned, trapped, completely at his mercy. He held the nozzle tightly, moving it ever so slightly, trying to elicit the maximum stimulation, the maximum reaction. Sylvie screamed as she exploded again, her body shaking, pulsing, and convulsing. She slumped.
‘Sylvie!’ he admonished, ‘Stand up!’
‘Please stop! I can’t take anymore!’
‘Nonsense! This is good for you. Don’t fight it!’
The onslaught continued. She forced herself onto her tiptoes. Trying to avoid the water flogging her quivering little bulge. He was trying to kill her with pleasure! His hard body leaned against hers; there was no place for her to go. There was nothing to do but submit. She yielded to his torture, moving her hips in time to the punishing torrent. She came again, and again, and again. The intensity of her orgasms was almost debilitating. Her legs wobbled unsteadily beneath her. Connor spun her around just as the last shiver rippled through her. Grabbing her ass, he lifted her up, impaling her on his stone-hard rod. She screamed and clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he seated himself deep inside her. Then moaned as he began to pump, driving into Sylvie like a battering ram.
Connor groaned when he pulled out of her, cum spurting on her belly and thighs. They were both panting and gasping for air. She looked up into his eyes, her mouth greedily settling on his. The kiss was smoldering and intense, filled with passion and promise. If this was any indication of what was to come, how was she ever going to survive living with this man? But then again, now that she’d experienced him, how could she ever live without him?
She was getting dressed when he came into her room. He looked hot. But then he always looked hot! He tumbled out of bed looking that way. He was dressed in a pair of khaki chino shorts, a navy tee shirt, and a pair of old scuffed-up topsiders. Very manly! She was shocked; Connor looked carefree and relaxed. His eyes were actually sparkling. Very out of character for the dour Mr. Hudson. Getting laid must agree with him.
He plopped on her bed, leaned back against the headboard, and stared at her quizzically. ‘Sylvie, what’s with your boobs? They’re spilling out of your top. What the hell did you do to them?’
She scowled. ‘Nothing. I just put on a bra.’
‘Is that what they call that contraption?’ he chided her. ‘How can you stand having your tits squished and stretched like that? Doesn’t it hurt? It sure as hell looks painful!’
‘I’m fine!’ she said indignantly, glaring at him. ‘It’s not a contraption! I’ll have you know this is a balcony bra. They’re specially designed to enhance and lift the bust line…wiseass!’
‘Why would you want to torture those sweet little handfuls by strapping them into a vice? You don’t need padding. You don’t need stays or wires. You don’t need cleavage! You’re perfect the way you are. Shit-can the bra; and while you’re at it, ditch the low-cut crop top,’ he ordered as he stared at the tiny shirt lying on the bed. ‘I don’t want any of the guys looking at you and getting the wrong idea. Change the low-rise short shorts too. Your belly button’s showing. When you bend over your ass crack and butt cheeks will too. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t want other men seeing my woman exposed like that.’
‘What are you, the fashion police?’ she bristled. ‘I’ve managed to dress myself for the last 20 some years without any help from you, so I’ll thank you to keep your Neanderthal opinions to yourself!’ She was in mid-huff, ready to rip him a new one, when she suddenly realized what he’d said. Did he really say ‘my woman’ meaning her? Wow! Fancy that!
Fighting with Connor was useless. He always won. In the end she did as she was told, but she wasn’t happy about it. She let him know it too. She’d sputtered, muttered, and griped; banging drawers, slamming doors, and throwing clothes around. Her little temper tantrum may have made her feel better, but it didn’t change a thing. He still got his way. For all his good looks, talent, and brains he was still an aggravating, condescending, controlling pain in the ass!
