Pleasure's Edge Read Online Free PDF

kept stroking, milking his cock of every last bit of come. Every last moment of pleasure. Trying to work his need for her out of his system.
    It didn’t work. He’d known it wouldn’t.
    Nothing would work but seeing her, touching her. Commanding her. And commanding this woman wouldn’t be an easy task. But maybe then he could command himself, get some control back.
    He looked down at the sticky mess on his stomach, shaking his head. He needed to do it again. He was stil trying to catch his breath, knew it would be a little while before he could even get hard again. But if he had her here he’d be on top of her, ravaging her skin, making her come with his hands, his mouth . . .
    His cock gave a twitch and he was surprised to feel a rush of blood there as it swel ed once more.
    He sat up, walked across the cool wood floors of his bedroom.
    The day was just beginning outside, the dusky gray light filtering through the windows. The air was cold on his skin, but inside he was burning hot. Needy. Aching once more.
    In the bathroom he reached into the big shower, tiled in shades of copper, brown and bronze, blasting the hot water. Stepping under the spray, he rinsed the come from his bel y. But the sharp heat of the water on his skin only made him harder.
    He grabbed the handheld shower massager from its hook and aimed it at his stiffening cock, leaning his back into the cool tiles behind him and closing his eyes.
    There she was again, her hair a wet tangle down her back, her lush mouth a lovely O as he knelt between her thighs, his tongue licking at her wet slit, her hands in his hair, holding him against her as she moaned.
    His breath hitched in his lungs. He was going to fucking come again. Just from the water pounding on his cock and the image of Dylan Ivory’s spread thighs in his head.
    “Jesus.”

    He angled his hips into the water, reached down and cupped his bal s; they were tight with need. And that was al it took. His body shook, his hips jerking as he came.
    Dylan . . . God damn it!
    He sagged against the wal behind him, his legs weak. Pleasure shimmered through him, a smal electric buzz al over his skin, deep inside his bel y, his stil -throbbing cock.
    He pul ed in a breath, then another, as he let the water rinse the come away.
    It was bad enough that he’d had to jerk off twice in a row, like some teenager. Had to. But this was one of the first times in years he’d gotten off to just . . . sex. No power play. No bondage. No paddles, no leather or ropes or chains. Just Dylan, in his head.
    What the hel did that mean, anyway? Did he even want to know?
    Sex was the one thing over which he’d always felt completely in control. But something about this woman had gotten to him. And he had a feeling al bets were off.
    Not that he’d end up submitting to her. But even when he got her on her knees—and he would, there was no doubt about that—he had a feeling it would be as much of a mind-fuck for him as it would be for her. That something in him would be giving himself over to . . . Dylan.
    His gut clenched, partly with annoyance, partly in a panic he didn’t want to admit to and partly in the ever-present desire simmering in his veins.
    Things were different with Dylan Ivory. And as much as he didn’t want to admit to the way she affected him, he was going to find out what the hel that was al about. What she was al about.
    And meanwhile he would keep things under control, damn it, just as he always did.
    God damn it.

    three

    Dylan sat on her sofa, a pile of books spread out before her on the coffee table, her notepad in her lap. She’d been researching bondage, pain play, power exchange, the reasons why these things turned people on. The things she’d read about had turned her on, no doubt about it. And she’d imagined herself in the various scenarios: being tied up, spanked, even flogged. She could blame the low throbbing between her thighs on that. If she wanted to lie to herself.
    The truth was, it