The Hunted (Sleeping With Monsters Book 2) Read Free

moved my hand
fractionally, undoing the zipper tine by tine, unwrapping him like he was a
present. I reached inside his pants and felt him underneath the thin cotton
that kept him bound. Then I went for the waist band of everything together.
“Help me?” I asked, giving him a look.
    “Of course,” he said,
raising his hips so that I could pull pants and underwear down.
    I reached for one of
the condoms on the bed and unwrapped it expertly, then reached out to touch
him. His cock was hard and warm and the equal of any one I’d ever seen – which
was, two years into this for me, saying a lot. I slid the condom over him and then
straddled him with my knees, pulling up my skirt.
    There was always
something feral seeming about squatting on top of a man – which was one of the
reasons I liked it. I lowered myself -- not wearing underwear was one of the
few perks of my job -- until my pussy was right over his still hard dick, and I
slid him in.
    Either the condom had
lube, or the tone of his voice – like he was used to giving orders and being
listened to – had made me a little wet. I settled myself down and the sound I
made as he fit inside me wasn’t fake.
    I looked to him for
what he wanted to happen next.
    “You don’t believe me,
do you?” he said.
    I shook my head.
    A wicked smile crossed
his beautiful face. “Use me like a fuck toy,” he repeated. “I’m paying you to
be happy. Nothing fake. And don’t think you can pretend. I can see you – and I
can feel you.”
    I stared down at him,
with his cock hard inside. I’d never had a john like this before – and I had to
admit the him-being-crazy thing made him hotter. I rose up, experimentally,
made him move inside me, and saw his eyes close in brief contentment, like a
cat.
    I’d just fuck him until
he came and all of this would be through.
    I leaned forward,
putting my hands by his shoulders, so I could ride my hips up and down. “Is
this what you wanted?” I asked him, taking him inside me again.
    “You already know what
I want,” he answered me, and closed his eyes.
    What a strange kink
this was, finding poor hookers to pay to fuck you until they came, thinking you
were like some perverted Santa Claus. But whatever it took for him to get off.
And as for me getting off -- his cock would do just fine.
    I rocked back on him
and groaned, sitting up almost straight, feeling him fill me, grinding my clit
against his stomach’s flatness. He moaned – and I could see the outline of his
triceps bulging against his dress shirt – maybe his arms wanted to grab hold of
me and take control, to make me fuck his dick how he wanted to be fucked.
    But too bad. This was
my ride now. I licked my fingers and sent them down to rub myself, pulsing my
ass against his thighs to make his cock rub me the same.
    His eyes opened and
looked up.
    “Is this what you want
to see?” I opened my mouth and pulled my skirt higher so he knew where my hand
was.
    “If looking helps you
out,” he said, one eyebrow quirked.
    I snorted and closed my
own eyes, riding him in long smooth strokes, feeling all of him, and deep
inside my pussy began to clench. I brought my free hand up across my chest to
hold my right breast and pinch it’s nipple through my tank top. I moaned and
beneath me he moaned, feeling things tighten and change, leaning over so that
his cock rubbed me just right, my fingers slippery on my clit –
    I gasped out, once,
twice, and came like I always did.
    The ‘orgasms’ I had for
johns were shouting, thrashing shows, but when I really came I did it for
myself, hissing and panting, like I’d touched something that burned that I
couldn’t let go of. I writhed and rocked and whimpered and hissed and felt him
groan below me at seeing me come, and feeling me massage him. I moved my hands
out to hold myself and stayed squatting above.
    “There. Happy now?”
    “Very,” he said,
staring up.
    “What…about you?” I
asked him. He hadn’t come.
    “You can use