by Sam Crescent
I swiped a tear from my eye, wondering at the balm Trip claimed to need. While intelligent, the younger man had no issues with talking or speaking his mind. He held eye contact and didn’t mutter computer jumbo like Louie had. We had enjoyed silence more often than not, and I missed our quiet times of simply occupying space together.
Blowing out a deep breath, I pulled open my closet doors, chewing on the inside of my lip while deciding what to wear. I had planned on working late, but knew I needed to shave all the parts of me that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Just in case.
Not that I had any intention of sleeping with the incredibly hot man who revved my engine as easily as he did that bike I’d seen him on earlier in the day. The thought of having that beast between my legs—never mind its owner—also turned me on.
Damnit.
I grabbed jeans, which would be a safer bet—but my second-skin pair. If Trip hoped to get me out of them, he had his work cut out for him.
The heels and flirty blouse would be much quicker to strip, I thought while tugging the halter top down over my head.
Damnit, stop!
I had zero intention of falling into the sack with Trip, I told myself yet again, but that look in his eye, like he wanted to spread me out and feast on every inch of my skin, made me want to throw caution to the wind.
The second I caught sight of him on the rooftop restaurant, settled back on a wicker-like couch, sprawled and comfortable looking in jeans and a tight t-shirt, offering a gorgeous view of his profile, my heart stalled out.
I, however, strode forward in my heels as though unaffected by his rugged good looks.
As though he could feel me, same as I could him, he turned as I approached. Leisurely, he slid his gaze down over me, pebbling my nipples against the lace and satin covering them from his view, down my legs encased in skinny jeans, but snagging on the apex of my thighs on his way back upward.
He sees something he likes—and wants.
I couldn’t help but feel the same as he rose to greet me, still taller than my 5’9” in three-inch heels.
“You look good enough to eat,” he murmured while motioning me to sit.
Heat rushed through me. “Thank you.” I sat without the grace I usually did, tearing my focus off him to glance around.
The place was packed for a Wednesday night, but with the early evening warm and no trace of night yet in the sky, it was no wonder.
A waiter took our drink order—me wine, him a beer—and left us to decide on dinner. I opted for scallops, Trip the ribeye.
“So.” Trip caught my eye when the waiter left us alone. “Tell me all about how you met my uncle. I want to hear it all.”
Determined to keep my emotions contained, I did as Trip requested, briefly telling him of my parents shunning me for my sinful ways, which landed me on the streets. He listened without a hint of judgment over the mistakes I’d made. We shared stories of Louie’s quirks, and my heart melted upon finding Trip’s deep-belly laughs sounded exactly like Louie’s. A few tears escaped over other stories. Trip choked up and didn’t brush it off in a macho way like I’d expected a badass biker to do.
Two glasses of wine and one shared chocolate torte later, I found myself completely relaxed, comforted by our shared grief, a connection between us due to a shared loved one.
“Louie loved chocolate,” Trip said, eyeing the spoon he’d just pulled from between his lips.
“Take Five bars,” I added, staring at his lips and the slight dark smear on the corner of his mouth by his lip ring. “You, uh…” I pointed to my own mouth, and he darted his tongue out to lick.
His tongue was pierced, too.
Sweet. Baby. Jesus.
I shifted, but couldn’t look away as he slowly grinned like he knew what I’d seen—and what I’d thought.
“So, Rhonda.”
That tone… I gulped and glanced up, my breath stalling out at the heat in his green eyes.
“I’m an honest man,” he said, “and I hate to pull punches, so I’m just gonna toss out that I think you’re sexy as fuck and I’m dying to taste your mouth. Your pussy. I want to find out if you’re as sweet on my tongue as you look.”
Yes, please.
Chapter Seven
Trip
She stared rather than respond, so I stood, her gaze tracking me as I moved around the table to loom over her. I held out my hand, offering when I said I wouldn’t do anything unless she wanted me to.
Rhonda stood on those long legs, barely needing to tip her head to hold my gaze. She slipped her hand into mine. “Take me to your room, Trip.”
I groaned at her quiet demand, no hint of hesitancy or timidity in her voice.
Night fucking made.
“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered against her ear, breathing in the scent of exotic spices I hadn’t noted in the open air. My dick swelled inside my jeans at the thought of sniffing down her entire body, drowning in her scent, her softness. Having those goddamn legs wrapped around me.
I’d booked a suite two floors down, and the second the elevator closed us in, Rhonda turned and pressed me into the wall, her mouth hot and sensual, her curvy as fuck body against mine from mouth to toes.
I ate at her sweetness with the same hunger she showed me, gripping her ass and lifting one thigh to grind my dick against her pussy.
The door dinged, and she stepped back, eyes sultry and pulse thrumming in her neck.
“Come on.” I grabbed her hand and strode down the hallway. Having been given the green light, and short of her whispering one word I would always honor, I planned on burying my dick balls deep inside her body—mouth, pussy, ass—I’d take whatever she allowed.
The second my room door clicked shut behind me, we took up where we’d left off, her purse thumping to the floor as she jumped on me, those legs wrapping around my waist.
“Goddamn,” I groaned into her mouth while palming and kneading her ass, my dick leaking, my stride steady through the suite to the king-sized bed with its white comforter.
I knelt on the mattress with one knee and laid Rhonda back, finally tearing my mouth off her lush lips and delicious tongue. Pushing upward, I yanked my t-shirt off while her gaze dropped to my chest and down over my abs.
She licked her goddamn lips and sat up, grasping my shoulders. I went with her roll, landing her on top of me. My hands grasped her thighs settled on either side of my hips as she pulled off her shirt and unclasped her bra, allowing her girls free. Full and plump … dark, tight nipples watered my mouth.
I rose up, taking one between my teeth, wrapping a hand around its fullness. Christ, she tasted sweeter than maple syrup, and she ripped at my hair as I nipped and lathed over her tight nub, her gasps and moans inciting a fucking nor’easter in my balls.
I usually enjoyed two women at once, but Rhonda didn’t need a sidekick—she was more than enough woman. Almost too much.
With a growl, I rolled us again, sliding my way down her body, my mouth tasting from tits to navel. I went to work on her jeans, and she shimmied to help me peel them off her legs.
“Goddamn, what a queen you are,” I groaned from between her spread legs, cherry-red lace covering what I wanted to tongue. I hooked my fingers beneath the elastic and slid them down her thighs, groaning again at the sight of her bare pussy lips, all plump and slick.
“I’m going to eat this pussy.” I ripped her panties off her foot. They landed on the floor, and I grasped her thighs and lifted her, diving in to run my tongue up through her slit.
Tangy and sweet—the best pussy I’d ever tasted.
A gasp, and she angled higher, offering herself to me.
I shoved my tongue in as deep as it would go, licking every trace of her arousal I could reach, rubbing the ball of my piercing in a circular motion. Groaning, I pulled back to swallow. “Fuck, yeah, queenie,” I growled and shoved my tongue in again.
Rhonda grasped my hair, and I sprawled on my stomach, pressing her legs wide. Her clit protrude
d from the top of her slit like a juicy strawberry. I bit down.
“Fuck!” Rhonda bowed and clasped her thighs against my ears, holding me close as I suckled and flicked my tongue over her hard nub. “Move … God, yes.” She yanked my hair. Rocked my head side to side. “Move, Trip. Damnit!”
I shoved two fingers into her sopping pussy and rubbed deep inside, flicking my tongue barbell over her clit.
“Trip.” She groaned, and cum gushed over my fingers, dripping off my knuckles.
My dick ached, but I let her ride my face through her orgasm until a shuddered breath rolled through her, loosening her hold on my head.
I hopped off the edge of the bed, fished a condom from my pocket, and shoved my jeans to the floor.
A sheen of sweat covered her amber skin, her eyes damn near black from blown out pupils as she stared at my leaking dick. “Fuck me with that gorgeous cock, Trip.”
“Christ, woman.” I rolled the condom on and stalked over the bed, snagging her focus on my face. “I’m going to take you hard and fast.”
“Yes,” she breathed, reaching for me, legs spread wide in invitation.
“Hold on, queenie.” I planked over her and shoved into the hilt.
“God!” Rhonda hissed and arched, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I pulled out and slammed back in, sliding her across the bed. She wrapped her long legs around my waist and squeezed tight as her pussy sucked me deep.
“Goddamn.” My balls fucking brewed, and I gave over to the need to fuck fast and furious, ramming into her tight hole over and over, finally dropping to my elbows to take her mouth.
Our tongues lashed and teeth scraped. Sweat slicked between our bodies.
I gave her all I had, and she didn’t complain, didn’t whimper about my girth or roughness of thrusts. She gave as good as she got, tearing at my hair and back, her heels digging into my ass with each thrust as though wanting me to go deeper—harder.
Her nails broke skin.
“Fuck, yeah,” I growled, my balls tightening. “Come all over me, queenie. Fucking squeeze the cum out of my balls. Need to feel it—give it to me.”
I ground my pelvis against hers, and she came with a groan into my mouth, her body a vise around mine, her pussy pulsing, contracting with a tight grip.
Fuck. Me.
A shot of spunk exploded through my dick, and I groaned, digging my toes into the bed to thrust deeper, my ass flexing tight beneath her grip. Shot after shot, short, harsh thrusts, emptied my balls, and I planked on my elbows again, sucking wind like I’d run a 5k.
Mine.
“Holy fucking mother of God,” I mumbled, my head hanging low to rest against her forehead.
Mine.
Rhonda sighed and relaxed her hold on me but didn’t let go.
Better than heaven—fucking perfect. And, I had every intention of keeping her.
Chapter Eight
Rhonda
Trip had topped me, the first I’d ever allowed, and he mastered me like a maestro with a fine-tuned instrument. He felt damn good in my arms, too, all lithe, ripped muscle and sweaty male, his cock still shoved deep inside me.
I squeezed my inner walls around him, and he groaned, his sweet breath caressing my mouth.
“You’re so fucking perfect, queenie.”
My lips twitched at the nickname. He must think me above most women, and I knew that as a biker, he must have his fill on a daily basis.
Sated, released, and feeling just a bit smug, I kept my arms and legs around him, not wanting the quiet—perfect—moment to end.
He’d owned me with finesse and enough roughness to make me feel like a plundered virgin even though I was no such thing. Far from it. I’d had plenty of dick while living on the streets, but none had gotten me off with such an explosive rush. And his tongue and fingers?
“God,” I breathed, squeezing him once more.
“The name’s Trip.”
I huffed a laugh, and he chuckled, pulling back enough to look me in the face, his green eyes soft. Sated.
“That was hot as fuck.”
“Yes,” I agreed quietly.
He kissed me like a gentle rain, languid and slow, the opposite of how we’d fucked. Every wall I’d hidden behind for the previous five years shuddered beneath his onslaught, and I turned my head, once more gasping for breath, my heart kicking back up for a whole different reason.
Trip groaned and backed off me, his cock still semi hard as it slipped from my body. A chill swept over me at the loss of his body heat.
“Don’t go anywhere.” His tone, rumbling and all alpha sexiness, pulsed my pussy again.
I obeyed his order, my gaze on his flexing ass as he strode to the bathroom. Such power in his backside and thighs—he’d damn near split me in two.
And I’d liked it. A lot.
The bathroom door closed behind Trip, and I expelled a huge breath while closing my eyes.
I fucked my boss.
I also felt like a cheap whore, giving it up after knowing him less than eighteen hours, one date, and two glasses of wine.
Such a moron.
How the hell would I work with him knowing how fantastic he fucked me into near unconsciousness? The best of my life, and he had to be the one I ought to avoid.
Damnit. Lips pursed, my mind started to roll with abandon. I didn’t hear Trip come back from the bathroom.
His touch to my ankle jerked my eyelids up, and his intense gaze slid right past my walls, my confusion, quieting my head. “You okay?”
I nodded.
He peered at me for a few seconds as if deciding on whether to believe me or not. “Can I care for you?” he finally asked, lifting a wet facecloth.
Heat flushed through me. No man had ever offered me such a thing. “Sure,” I whispered, and he wiped between my thighs, all tender and gentleman-like, baffling my mind.
Fucks like a lion, yet he’s gentle as a koala. Who the hell is this man?
I stared as he crawled back onto the bed, but closed my eyes as he pulled me into his arms, his nose brushing mine.
“Stay the night.”
That tone, that demand, owned my body.
I relaxed against him and gave in.
****
I woke to pitch black—and Trip’s hand between my thighs, his wet fingers gliding in and out of my pussy. A moan escaped me, and he pulled me on top of him, resting my core against his hard cock.
He’d already put on a condom. “Ride me, queenie.”
A rush swept over me, and I took to my damn throne with a groan, impaling myself in one backward press onto his cock.
“Christ.” Trip grabbed my hips, but allowed me to move, to take what I wanted, how I wanted, gyrating and rocking, lifting and lowering, my hands on his chest, our heavy breaths and the wet sounds of our fucking wrapping around us.
“You’re a goddamn knockout, Rhonda,” he whispered, and I forced myself to focus on his face in the darkness.
I could barely make out his eyes, the ring in his lip, the metal in his right eyebrow, but I felt the connection between us. The energy linking two people beyond the physical.
My breath caught, but I was too far gone in my need to come to keep my walls from shattering. I held his gaze and rode him until I did, crying out while arching.
His cock pulsed inside me, and he swiveled his hips beneath me with short thrusts until he, too, came with a sexy as fuck groan, his fingertips bruising my thighs.
I collapsed on top of him, my face in his neck, a shudder rippling through me. Traces of aftershave and his musk filled my nose, swarmed through me, and I knew I was well and truly screwed when his arms tenderly wrapped around me and held me close.
****
The next time I woke to a hint of sunrise around the blinds—and Trip’s face between my thighs.
“You’re insatiable,” I said with a moan as he licked me from my asshole to clit.
“For you, yes.” He licked again. “Sweeter than candy.”<
br />
I huffed a snort, but grasped his head, my fingers in his hair.
“Smoother than chocolate.” He flicked his tongue over my clit with that delicious rod through his tongue, and I arched into his face.
“Damnit, Trip, I’ve got to get home.”
“Later.” He shoved his tongue inside me.
“I have to be at work later,” I moaned.
“I’m your boss.” Trip licked. “And I don’t give a shit if you’re late.” He twirled his tongue around my hole, curling my toes. “Especially if I’m the reason why.”
Giving in came all-too easy, and I felt bow-legged, my core throbbing as I scurried out of his hotel room twenty minutes later, cursing myself to high heaven. If the remaining board members found out what I’d been doing all night, I wouldn’t only prove their judgment of me correct, I’d make myself a laughingstock, unprofessional and whorish—in their eyes—in an attempt to keep my job. I ignored Trip when I got to the office, merely five minutes late, getting straight to finishing up my notes from the previous day’s meeting.
At ten, he called me into his office.
Wet and heated through, I obeyed—damn him—and found him behind his desk, which had been cleared of clutter. He’d traded his leathers and colors for jeans and a nice button-down, but he couldn’t erase the badass intent in his eyes.
“Yes, Mr. Rucker?” I asked, stopping beside the chair across from him.
He took his time looking down over my stiff form, my tight skirt, and high heels. Lust glinted in the green of his eyes when he finally turned his focus on my face. “I just wanted to feast my eyes on you.”
My lips twitched as slickness coated my panties. I wanted to ask if he wanted anything else but bit my tongue.
Trip leaned forward resting his elbows on his desk. “I won’t taint the company’s name by messing around at work, but I’m dying for another taste of your pussy.”
