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Untamed by Emilia Kincade (11)

Duncan shrugs.

“Before this, I had nothing. Now, I have something.” He looks at me, holds onto my hand tight. “I’ll get out eventually. This won’t last forever.”

Our fingers entwine, and my breath hitches, and I want nothing more than to push myself into his arms. As if reading my mind, he scoots forward, captures me in his strong arms, and pulls me toward him. His hand is huge on the back of my neck, hot, and he tucks hair behind my ears, presses his forehead to mine.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“You got a good workout in.”

“Yeah,” I say through a laugh.

I press myself into him more, and then turn, let him wrap me up from behind. I’m embarrassed that I’ve cried in front of him, and I don’t want him to see my puffy eyes.

He holds me tight, his chest against my back, my fingers in his, and I’m thinking to myself that this is insane. What is going on? Why am I letting this happen? Why do I want this?

It would be a big mistake. It could never work, never! Not with Dad in the picture…

I feel his breath on my neck, and I lean back against him, growing more comfortable by the second, yet my heart only beats faster.

There’s a voice inside me screaming: Don’t do this, Dee! You’re a smart girl. What if Dad comes down?

But I want to do this. I’ve wanted to be close to him since he first stepped out of that limousine… or maybe it even went back to Thailand.

“I never stopped thinking about you, Dee,” he says quietly.

I don’t reply. I don’t know how to. All I know is that I thought about him too… often.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I whisper, playing with his fingers. “You’re trapped now, like me.”

“Then I would never have seen you again.”

“Dad will use you until you’re broken, then throw you away.”

“No he won’t.”

“He will.”

“Dee, don’t think about that anymore.”

But I can’t help it. “I feel so alone here.”

I hear him suck in a breath of air as if my words somehow hurt him.

I pull his hands tighter around my body, and that’s when I feel the tip of his nose by my ear. Unconsciously, I press myself to him, tilt my head to the side, and when his lips touch my skin he sets it on fire.

My breathing quickens, my heart starts to thump in my chest, and I hold onto his hands tighter as he kisses me again beneath my ear, and then again.

I turn to him, look into his gorgeous eyes, look at his soft lips set within that granite jaw.

Now I say it: “I thought about you, too. All the time.”

He kisses me, and I melt into his arms, fall into him as he claims my lips. It’s the first kiss I’ve ever had with a boy, and I have no idea what I’m doing, but he kisses me so softly, so gently, as if guiding me with his own lips.

And I love the feeling of it, his lips on mine. It makes me tingle, makes me feel this building storm of anticipation in my belly, and butterflies… so many butterflies.

“Dee,” he breathes, holding onto my face, kissing me harder. I fall into him more still, turn myself around, clamber on top of him so that I’m straddling him, and I hold onto his face, run my hands through his hair, kiss him harder, faster.

There’s an urgency coursing through me, something I’ve not felt before. I press my body against him, imagine our heartbeats aligned as one, and his hands hold onto me, touch my neck, my collar bone, touch me lower still.

His fingers love my body, and in a hurried flurry I take his t-shirt and pull it up. He gets it up over his head, throws it away, and I push against his shoulders, guide him down onto the mat. I look down his gorgeous, muscled, and tight body, feel my temperature skyrocketing, and then I’m on top of him, kissing his lips, and I feel the touch of his tongue.

My heart surges, and I push my tongue into his mouth, meet his, dance with his, and I love it even more. I never imagined it would feel this good, but somehow it does, and I can barely breathe, but I don’t care. I never want him to stop kissing me.

I touch his hard chest, his tight body, but a moment of panic seizes me, and I break our kiss, lean up from him, my hair falling down around his face.

“I…,” I begin, before trailing off. “I’m all sweaty.”

Duncan smirks. “It’s really sexy.”

“I’ve never… you know.”

“Don’t be scared. I won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

His tongue comes out, runs across his lower lip for a moment, and I have the sudden urge to lean back down and taste him again, but instead I get off him.

“Come on,” I say. “We can’t stay here.”

Together we go upstairs to my room, and there he takes my hand, turns me, presses me against the wall, and kisses me again.

I latch onto him, link my arms behind his neck, and then I feel his hands on my thighs, and gasp when he lifts me up easily. I quickly latch my ankles around his waist.

Above him now, looking down on him, I kiss him feverishly again, and he carries me into my room, kicks the door shut behind him.

Our teeth bang into each other, the kiss is rough, not at all delicate, and I’m panting, my heart is racing, blood is thundering in my ears.

I’m so nervous, but so excited. I’m scared, worried that I won’t know what to do, or what we even will do.

Here I am, inexperienced, a virgin, making out with my foster brother, and my hands are on his hard chest, and it’s like I can feel electricity arcing into my body.

I moan onto his face, bite his lip, feel this intense energy growing inside me. It washes the world away, and it’s just Duncan with me here, and nothing else matters. Nothing else matters.

His hungry hands devour my body, grope me, squeeze me, knead me. I feel his palms on my ass, my thighs, run up my sides into my armpits, making me shiver, feel warm, then hot.

I can feel his desire for me pressing through his pants, pressing against me, and I hold onto his neck with just one arm and send the other in between us, down his sculpted body, to cup him through his jeans.

His heated eyes tunnel into mine, flick down to my lips, and he captures them again, like he needs my lips to live.

I feel so wanted, so desired, it’s nothing I’ve ever felt before.

He sets me down, turns me around, then lifts my arms above my head. His fingers hook beneath my t-shirt, and he pulls it up over my head.

From behind me, he runs his hands tantalizingly down my body, cups my breasts, bites at the back of my neck and shoulder. He squeezes me, rolls my nipples softly, and I reach my hands over and behind me, run them through his hair.

He comes around my body, holds my hands behind my head, and he looks at me, my bared breasts, my body on display for him, and in his eyes I see a growing storm of desire.

Slowly, on my right arm, he kisses me from my elbow to my armpit, down my side, the wet dab of his tongue now and again setting my skin on fire.

He crouches down, and I lower my arms, grab onto his hair, watch and laugh as he takes the elastic of my pajama pants into his mouth, and he pulls it down slowly, his gorgeous eyes never leaving mine.

When I see my underwear, I say hastily, “Wait.”

He stands up, and I put my hands on his chest, not knowing how to say it. I figure I should just come out and say it.

“I’m… you know, it’s my first time doing something like this.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he says.

“I know you won’t. But… I guess I just don’t know what to do.” I feel so awkward and embarrassed saying it, so silly and stupid.

“Hey,” he says, taking my face into his hand. “Only do what you want to do.”

I nod at him, bite my lip. “I do want to.”

“Yeah?”

“But you should take charge.”

He grins. “I can do that.”

Duncan leans down, takes my lips in his again. I find myself surprised all over again at how soft they are, how gentle and yet forceful.

He guides me with his kiss, teases my tongue out, and our tongues dance and I wrap myself around him, feel the fire between us start to ignite again.

I love him holding me so close to him, feeling his body heat, the warmth of his breath, the touch of his fingers.

He moves me toward my bed, and I fall into it, and him on top of me, and he takes my arms and holds them above my head, leans up and looks at me for a moment.

My eyes travel down his body, sexy, tight, back up to his lips, his eyes.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he tells me, and the way he looks at me makes me believe it. He leans down, kisses my neck, along the length of my collar bone, and his hands sweep up my body to knead my globes, before lowering himself to my stiff nipple and taking it into his mouth.

I grip the sheets behind me as he licks my nipple, as he sends shivers of sensation shooting up and down my body.

I bring one arm down, hold onto his head, run my hands through his hair, pull it, pull him down harder on me.

His tongue teases, and then I feel the press of his teeth and I suck in air. He moves to the other, teases me there, rolls my nipples in his finger, licks the skin in between my breasts.

And then he’s moving down, his hands, fingers working my body like I’m an instrument, pulling soft sighs and moans from my lips.

I arch my back, stretch out on the bed as he kisses me around my navel. It tickles a little, but only a little, but it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, makes me quiver.

He teases my pants off, leans up to look at me reverently, and then he’s kissing around my navel, hooks his teeth into the elastic of my underwear, and pulls it down my legs.

And as I lie there, on the bed, looking at him, I know I’m feeling lustier than I ever have, and I know he can see it in my eyes.

He opens my thighs gently, slowly, a hand on each knee, bares me to him, displays my most private place to him.

Of course I feel the sting of modesty. I’m not clean-shaved – I don’t think I should have to be – and I’m afraid he won’t like me.

But he does. He leans down, buries his nose on my mound, smells me, and then I feel his warm tongue run up the side of my sex, and he makes my body tremble.

“I love that you don’t shave,” he growls, and he teases me, plants soft kisses around my center, every now and then touching my clit with his tongue.

I press my head into the pillow, run my hands over my breasts, down my body, find his hair and I thread my fingers through it, feel him, and then I push him onto me slowly.

His tongue presses against my folds, pulls up my sex, and I let my eyes fall closed, raise my hips off the bed to meet him.

He starts to lick me, settles on my clit, flicks it left to right, and he goes so nice, so fast, I’m almost instantly in heaven.

I stretch out, undulate my body, grasp at him tighter, bring my hips up higher.

“Yes,” I whisper, and his finger goes to my entrance, and he rings me, teases me, and I angle my hips down so his finger tip dips inside me.

I groan, tighten up at the sensation, and when he pushes his finger all the way inside me I can’t help but to moan loudly at the sudden influx of feeling.

I feel like ink in water, coming apart, twirling about, and he licks me like he starves for me, thirsts for me, laps me like there’s nothing else on Earth he’d rather be doing.

He angles his finger upward, rubs my front wall, and I grab hold of my breasts, breathe out some incomprehensible sound.

When I feel his lips wrap around my clit, suck it while still flicking me with his tongue, it’s all I can do not to cry out. My temperature is rising, and he slides a second finger into me, pulling a long groan from my mouth.

He starts to finger me faster, lick me to the same rhythm, and I’m his captive, at his mercy, letting him drive me.

“Just like that,” I tell him, though I know he needs no instruction. His fingers and tongue play me like an instrument.

“Fuck, like that,” I breathe, my voice hoarser, deeper. “Like that, oh, God, yes!”

I lift my whole lower body off the bed, and I’m shaking and buzzing and gone all electric.

“Don’t stop,” I beg, I mewl. “Don’t stop!”

He brings me racing into orbit, sends me soaring, and pleasure crashes over me, radiates outward from my center, sparkles down to my toes.

I grip at him hard, mash him into me, moaning and trembling and writing and squirming. I then squeeze, freeze, muscles tight, stomach crunching, stuck still in bliss.

And then I’m coming down, on the other side, panting, seeing stars, dizzy, and smiling.

“Fuck,” I whisper, putting my hand to my head, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the world around us to slowly fill back in.

I pull him up my body, bring his lips to mine, kiss him, taste myself. I send my hands down urgently between us, unbutton his jeans and rip apart the flaps. I stick my hand down his compression shorts, grab onto his cock, start to pump him wildly.

I reposition myself on the bed, sit up against the headboard, with one hand grab his ass and pull him forward over me, his leg on either side of me, so that is manhood is closer to me.

With some difficulty, I pull his compression shorts down, and his jeans with them, and I jerk him, a kind of feral need to give him pleasure like he gave me pleasure thrilling through me.

I take his tip into my mouth, and I suck on it and swirl my tongue over it, taste his pre-cum, a little bit salty, a little bit sweet.

He leans back, groans, runs his fingers through my hair, pulls my hair toward him, makes me take him deeper down my throat.

I’m urgent with lust, don’t even know if I’m doing it right, but at this point all that worry has all but drained away.

I work him as hard and as fast as I can, run my tongue up the back of his tip, bob my head to the movement of my hand.

It takes me only a short while to realize that he likes it when I press my tongue against the back of his tip, and so I focus on it, and I feel his thighs tighten, feel his body tense, and his hands grip my hair harder, and he groans hoarsely, “Shit, Dee, you’re going to make me come.”

I want to make him come, and so I go faster still, and soon he lets out a sharp sound of pleasure, and I feel his cock twitch in my mouth, feel him fire down my throat.

I struggle to swallow it all, but there’s so much it dribbles out, runs down my chin, but I keep pumping him, keep milking him, keep wanting to make him feel good.

And then his hands loosen their grip of my hair, and his eyes, previously shut tight in pleasure, open, and he looks at me, and his blue orbs have turned a darker shade, full of desire.

I let him out of my mouth, wipe my chin, swallow the rest, thinking to myself that it doesn’t taste nearly as strong as I’d imagined it would.

His lips come hungrily to mine, and he pushes his tongue into my mouth, kissing me, and I reach out and point to the bedroom drawer, tap on it.

Duncan leans over me, opens it, and then looks at me. I nod at him, and he pulls out a pack of condoms, tears one open.

He starts to take off his jeans the rest of the way, but I stop him, instead doing it myself, and I work them off his feet one at a time, my eyes never leaving his unsoftening manhood.

“Can I put it on?” I ask him.

I’m curious, anyway, and so I take the packet, pull out the slippery condom, and pinch the tip, and unroll it down his cock. It’s hard to, he’s so thick and long, and it doesn’t reach all the way down to the bottom.

“Is it okay like this?”

He nods at me, climbs back on top of me. I love the way he kisses all over me. It’s like he wants to take every inch of flesh into his mouth, every last sliver of my body. It’s like he wants to taste me everywhere, as though there is nothing else in the world he could ever want more.

It seems naïve, thinking like that, but it’s really what it feels like.

In between us, his manhood juts up, and I reach down, hold on to him. He’s so hard for me, and he squeezes some muscle I never knew existed, and his cock jumps in my hand, grows even thicker, his tip swelling some more.

A drop of pre-cum oozes out – I can see it through the condom, and I rub my thumb over it, spread it over his tip through the lubricated latex, massage the back where I know he’s sensitive.

I see his face ripple with pleasure, and his lips part, and his breathing quickens, and it turns me on so much to see him like this.

He strokes my thigh, guides it apart a little father, and then he lowers himself down to me. I look him in the eyes, and then I suck in a breath of air, bite my lip.

“Okay,” I whisper.

I gasp when I feel his tip at my entrance, and I ring my arms around his neck, shutting my eyes, clenching my teeth as I feel him stretch me with the head of his manhood.

“Shit,” I hiss, throwing my eyes wide open and groaning as he inches inside me.

I’ve never felt anything like this before. He stretches me, and for a fleeting moment I feel a hint of a sting, but then it dilutes in the overwhelming sensation.

“Slower, slower,” I pant, and so he goes slower, slides into me gently.

My breathing quickens, I look at his lips, and he senses what I want, leans down, his hard muscles not shaking at all as he holds himself up while kissing me.

I pull his head harder on mine, lock my lips with his, and groan into his mouth as he inches inside me bit by bit.

He fills me up so completely, makes me feel so full on the inside. It’s… amazing. It’s overpowering.

I’m squeezing randomly around him, my whole body is shaking, and already I can feel that pressure again in my belly building up.

I reach down with one hand, clamp onto his hard ass, and I push him into me. He slides in all the way, bottoms out, draws a sharp moan from me.

“Wait,” I say breathlessly. “Just wait a second.”

He kisses me slowly, licks my lips, sucks on my tongue, and then when I run my hand across the side of his ass, to his hip, guide him up, he starts to pull out of me.

All at once I’m blinded. My body goes tight, and my mouth drops open, and I clamp onto his skin with my nails as he pulls himself all the way out of me.

It feels so damn good, so much more than just fingers which is all I’ve ever experienced before this.

As he pushes inside me again, I grow used to the way it feels, and I wrap my legs around his ass, push him down harder.

“God, you’re so tight,” he growls. “You make me feel so good.”

He starts to slowly thrust in and out of me, and I control his speed with my legs, push my hands against his chest, feel his hard, tensing muscle.

I lean my head back, and his tongue sets the skin of my throat on fire.

“Oooh,” I moan, overcome. I hold onto the headboard behind me as he fucks me, push down from it, raise my hips to meet his thrusts, utterly lost in the blissful sensation, in heaven.

“Faster,” I gasp, and he goes faster, and in no time I’m writhing beneath him, eyes clamped tight, at the mercy of the pleasure he grants me.

I’m lost, so utterly lost, and as his lips hungrily claim the skin on my neck, by my ear, along the stretch that leads to my shoulder, I shiver, hum, smile, moan.

He slows down, and I grip onto him tight, feel his hard body, and then he pulls himself out of me, gets up, takes me by my hips and flips me over on the bed.

I try to get to my knees, but his hand goes to the small of my back, guides me back down.

“Lie flat,” he tells me, and so I do, waiting, wondering what he’s going to do.

I feel his fingers on my sex from behind, and he rubs my clit, kisses me down my back. Then I feel his tip at my entrance again. He pushes my thighs together, and then slowly enters me.

I gasp out loud, grip the bed sheets. I feel so much more this way – he feels so much bigger inside me – and I’m just floating in oblivion.

He eases into me, slowly, gently, giving me time to get used to it, and then he takes my hair into his hand, twirls it around, pulls it.

A groan slips from my lips, and then he starts to fuck me from behind, and his cock is right against my front wall, and I feel better than I ever have before.

I feel fingers slip around my hip, in between my body and the bed, on my clit. He rubs me as he fucks me, and every nerve ending inside me is on fire.

He leans down, I feel the bite of his teeth on the back of my shoulder, and I know that I’m all his.

“Shit,” I gasp, my breathing growing faster. It feel so good like this, so amazing, and his fingers working my clit so well, it’s just too much.

I can feel that pressure inside me again, the climb upward toward the crest. His fingers are like magic, and the sting from how he pulls my hair is so hot, mixes in with all of it.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp at him, as I hear his breathing quicken behind me.

“You feel so good, Dee,” he groans. “God, I love your tight pussy.”

“Don’t stop!” I cry again, my body pinching inward, the world draining away. “Like that, like that!”

I’m right there, right at the edge, already feel all my muscles crunching, my toes curling, this ball of pleasure inside me about to—

“Shit, shit, shit, oooohhh,” I cry, pushed off the edge, for a moment in between two worlds.

Then ecstasy comes crashing down onto me, so intense it stops me breathing, and I squeeze around him, quake in bliss, and he drives me through it, keeps it going, and I buck back against him to each of his thrusts as I fly so high.

I’m somewhere wonderful, somewhere perfect.

“Come for me,” I groan at him, the only words I can get out.

His thrusts get faster, I feel him get harder, feel him tense up. It’s even more crazy, makes me feel even better, and then I hear him groan behind me, and feel his cock flex inside me again and again.

He lets out a long sound of pleasure, bottoms out one last time inside me, and I know he’s emptied himself.

He lets go of my hair, lowers himself onto me, kisses my back while I pant, while my own pleasure ebbs away, leaving me tingling and satisfied.

“Oh, God,” I whisper, lying my face down flat against the mattress. He’s still inside me, still so big, and every time I feel his cock twitch I jump at the sensation.

He begins to retreat, and pull himself out of me, and I gasp, rolling over, looking up at him. He positions himself above me, leans down and kisses me.

I hold onto him, clamp my legs around him, bring his body down to mine. I get the covers, pull them up over us, and I keep kissing him, our tongues keep dancing, and I can’t get enough.

And then we lie together, under the covers, and I’m grinning at him, thinking about all the horror stories I’d ever read about first times, and thinking how this was nothing like that.

I lie with Duncan in bed, in his arms, feeling his warmth beneath the covers. He’s playing with my hair, stroking it, smelling it.

I feel worshipped.

His fingers trace buzzing lines up and down my body, still exploring me, as though he wants to commit the curves of my body to memory, so he can never forget me.

We meet eyes, and he smirks at me, and I smile back, push my face into his neck, smell his smell, feel his heat.

His insatiable fingers roam over my breasts, dip in between them, before sidling down my body. I feel them thread through my pubic hair, and then two fingers slip down each side of my sex, and he squeezes them together.

I’m not so sensitive anymore, and so I let him touch me, let him touch me while he kisses me. His body is hard, tight against mine, and I feel like I’m in a safe place.

His fingers move to my pearl, and there he finds my stub still hard, and he begins to rub me. At first, it’s almost itchy, awkward because I’m still a little sensitive, but he rubs me slowly, so slowly, teases me, and I feel those threads of anticipation again worm through me.

I lie flat, open my legs for him, look up at him and beg him with my eyes to kiss me on the lips again. And he does, claims my lips as his, and he kisses me and rubs me until my body is hard and tight, until I’m right at the edge again.

And then he pushes me off, and I jolt and shudder at my orgasm, tense up and grit my teeth, and then I suck on his lower lip, bite it while I come, and then I’m coming down again, exhausted, utterly exhausted.

I hum into his mouth, grin, feel the wet press of his tongue on my lips.

Without speaking about it, I know he’s going to stay with me tonight. We get out of bed together, and I watch as he pulls off his condom, full of his essence. He drops it into the waste paper basket in my room, and together we go out into the hallway, naked, shivering at the cool air, rushing and laughing, the thrill of being caught breathing a kind of excited, playful energy into us.

He slaps my bum as we go to the bathroom, pinches me, stops me and gathers me up, presses me against him.

We brush our teeth together, take turns peeing, and then we go to back the room together. But even as I lay in his arms, his huge, warm arms, his breathing slow and steady on the back of my neck, his nose pressed against my head, his thigh over my legs like he thinks I belong to him, I can’t fall asleep.

And neither can he.