by Nikki Sloane
It got to be too much. I longed for his hands on me, and drew back, panting heavily. Maybe the cool air would help me get control of myself.
“I can see everything in those panties.” His gaze was fixed at the seam of my legs. “I see how wet that pretty pussy is.”
An unstoppable groan burst from my lungs. His dirty mouth did things to me. There was no defense against it.
“Do you need my mouth there, Cassidy?”
I gulped and nodded. Everything was spiraling out of control. He wasn’t moving an inch but flexed his power over me all the same.
“Take those panties off,” he ordered.
My body moved on its own, no approval from my mind. I slipped my fingers beneath the band of fabric covering my hips and began to drag the panties down.
His voice was firm, but not harsh. “Slow.”
I complied, keeping my hooded gaze locked on his as I bent at the waist, pushed the underwear to my ankles, and stepped out of it. Although I wasn’t cold, goosebumps blossomed on my skin. Power stirred between us, swirling like the eye of a hurricane.
Greg’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he stared at my naked flesh, eyeing me like the perfect cut of meat. Anyone else, it might have felt lewd, but not him. His unadulterated desire was a powerful aphrodisiac.
Since I understood the game now, I went in for the kill. I closed the space between us, threaded a hand through his thick hair, and lifted my leg, pulling his lips to where my body was hot and slick. His eyes went wide and then closed, happy to fulfill my request.
I hooked one leg over his shoulder.
My knee threatened to buckle at the first swipe of his tongue, and the grunt he gave was erotic. I held my tenuous balance as he stroked and massaged my clit with his velvet tongue, giving me the most intimate of kisses. The scene played out before me. His head was right beside the black band at the top of my thigh-high stocking, his mouth moving over my bare, pink skin.
I don’t know how long I stayed like that, rocking against his face while he fucked me with his tongue, only that it was impossible to hold the position for long. My supporting foot ached in the shoe and wobbled in the stiletto. I dropped down, sliding until I was seated in his lap, and crushed my mouth to his, wet with the taste of me.
“Dr. Lowe,” I murmured between kisses, trailing more along his strong jaw, and buried my mouth into the side of his neck. “I want you.” I said it the exact same way I’d have told him I needed him, but I was desperate to be a good girl and play my role of seductress.
“Take off your bra,” he said between two labored breaths. “Slow. Like I’d do it.”
I lengthened my spine, sitting upright on him, and twisted my hands behind my back, searching for the clasp. As I undid the two hooks, he watched me with a heavy stare. He was so close, his warm, hard breath washed over my skin, teasing. Was this the only touch I was going to get from him tonight?
The bra slid away from my body, releasing my breasts, and I dropped it delicately on the floor. It cost more than my last paycheck, after all. Greg tipped his forehead toward me, letting it rest against my collarbone, and I arched instinctively into him. The whiskers of his beard pressed in the valley between my breasts, and—good God—it felt so good when I moved, rubbing my heavy, tingling skin against his face.
He sighed, and the beautiful sound reverberated through my core. “Fuck,” he said, long and low.
Between my parted legs, I felt the swell of his hardening dick, and I swiveled on him, grinding against what I wanted inside me. The chair beneath us creaked, but not from my movement—it was his tight grip on the wood.
I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “You want to touch me?”
“I shouldn’t.”
I got the impression his strained tone wasn’t acting. He wanted to stay in his role, but his own rule was hard for him to follow.
“Please?” I whisper-moaned, shifting on him again.
He groaned, and then his body solidified. “No. On your knees.”
I exhaled loudly, punched with a new wave of lust. His order injected me with desire. I slid down out of his lap like he’d poured me off him and buried my knees into the plush rug. I stroked my hands over the smooth wool covering his thighs spread on either side of my shoulders and blinked my sultry eyes up at him.
Greg’s expression was turmoil. He was fighting a battle between breaking his rule and staying in the scene, and at that moment, I didn’t care which he chose. There was no wrong answer. Not as long as we were together.
His posture stiffened, and he settled back into his role. “Undo my pants. Let’s see how well you can say please again with me in your mouth.”
I clasped the end of his belt and worked it free from the buckle, then focused my hurried, graceless fingers on the hook and zipper of his fly. His legs corded with tension as I tugged on the pants and underwear, him shifting just enough for me to work the clothes over his knees and down to his ankles, my kneeling legs tucked beneath.
His jaw set when my hands found him, hard and ready. I licked my parched lips, preparing to take him in my mouth, and as I slid down around his cock, his eyes closed, his head tipping back toward the ceiling.
Who knew there was so much pleasure in doing this? It had never been a chore, but before Greg, I’d rarely enjoyed going down on a guy. As his deep sighs and satisfied moans filled the room, it stoked the fire burning inside me, hotter each second. I tightened my legs, squeezing and clenching my muscles internally that gave me a hit of self-pleasure.
His hips flexed, pumping ever so subtly up into my greedy mouth, when I clasped a hand at the base of him. I worked my hand in time with my mouth, sliding over the slick, saliva-coated column of flesh that was hard and etched with a vein.
“Do you want to fuck me?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Please,” I mumbled, my mouth full of him. The word was garbled, but my eager tone had to make it sound like confirmation.
“There’s a condom in my pants pocket.”
I fished inside the left one, came up empty, then found the coin-shaped packet in his right. When I held it up to him—
“Open it. Put it on me.”
I’d never done that before, but I trusted him to tell me if I screwed it up. I tore the corner of the foil open with trembling hands, pulled the condom out, and set off to accomplish my task.
A quiet hiss, full of enjoyment, came from him as I rolled the latex down. When it was done, I sat back on my heels, my hands resting on the garter straps on my thighs, and waited impatiently for my next set of instructions. He stroked himself, one quick pass to ensure he was covered, and his hand pushing down the condom was strangely mesmerizing.
Greg’s expression was a bunch of emotions at once. Longing. Desire. Domination. But his tone was absolute. “Come here.”
TWENTY-NINE
I put my hands on Greg’s knees, pushing up to stand. He was seated in the chair as I towered over him, but there was no doubt who was in charge. His gaze shifted to his lap, then drifted back up to meet my eyes, wordlessly ordering me to climb onto him.
My chest was tight. My heart rate kicked into high gear.
“Slowly,” he reminded as I draped a leg over his lap, straddling him. He wasn’t touching me, but was I allowed to touch him? I reached behind his head, gripping the chair back as I used my other hand to position him right at my entrance. I teased the tip of his cock against my damp skin, rolling the head of him over my swollen clit.
I wasn’t in command, but I felt so fucking powerful like this.
His eyes darkened until they were black holes. Did he know I was completely under his spell? I could show him. I began to lower down, one crucial inch at a time. I balanced on the balls of my feet, my thighs quaking as I slid onto him.
Our pleasure-soaked moans mingled together.
As I impaled myself all the way down to his base, I furiously gripped the back of the chair wi
th both hands, my forearms pressed to his suit-covered chest. I gasped at the sensation of him inside me. Hard, and throbbing, and statue still.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Slow.”
It was in direct conflict with the voice in my head that demanded fast and brutal. I was shaking with need. It pounded incessantly through my body. The primal urge to find satisfaction was almost overpowering.
When I was fully seated on him, we both drew in a deep breath. I stared at him, desperate for his next command.
“Can you come like this?” I couldn’t tell if he said it out loud, or if it was a seductive voice I dreamed up. “From just the feel of me inside you?”
I let out a shuddering breath. It felt like heaven. Was it enough to get me there?
The ghost of a smirk played over Greg’s lips. “I could. You feel how hard I am?”
I bit my bottom lip and nodded. He jerked inside me, and my body answered back, clenching on him.
“Yes.” He brought his lips toward mine, lingering only a breath away. “Just like that.” When I tried to close the gap between us, he turned his head away. “Could you come like this, without even moving? When I’m so deep inside you?”
The whine that escaped my lips sounded dire. As hot as the idea was, I didn’t want that. I craved passionate, exhausting fucking, the kind where our sweaty skin stuck together and I had to hold back screams.
But Greg just sat there, his hands tucked beneath him, gazing at me expectantly. Waiting for me to take the lead. Another cry burst from my lips, a wordless plea.
“No?” he asked. “Then, fuck me. Touch yourself how you’d want me to do it.”
I leaned forward, pushing my heels into the rug, lifted off him, then drove my body down. One powerful thrust, and I was addicted. I repeated the action, again and again, ramming myself down on him. My thighs burned with the exertion. My hands ached from their clench on the chair back. Sweat dampened the temples of my hair as I rode him, my breasts bouncing with the force of it.
“That’s right.” His voice dripped with encouragement. “That’s it. Use my cock to get yourself off.”
It was like I was on auto-pilot. Or maybe Greg was in the captain’s seat, driving me toward the finish line. I took one hand off the chair and wrapped it around my breast, squeezing like I wished he’d do if he were touching me. I smoothed it down, panting and gasping, moans rolling from my throat as my palm coursed down my ribcage, diving toward the spot where our bodies were joined.
I was lightheaded from how hard I was breathing and the effort to maintain my punishing rhythm. The outsides of my vision went blurry, so there was only him. Only this man who saw me, dirty fantasies and all, and was more than happy to give me what I wanted.
His gaze followed the descent of my hand, and he muttered a soundless word that looked like fuck as I pressed two fingers to my clit. They were my fingertips, but I pretended they were his. I moved them, drawing a slow circle around the bundle of nerves that made me flinch with acute pleasure.
“Faster,” he demanded.
I wasn’t sure if he meant the tempo I was riding him at, or the way I moved my hand to touch myself, but instead of asking, I just increased both. My hand on the back of the chair slipped. It came down to clench a fistful of his suit lapel. His expression was . . . intense. There was no other way to describe it. Determination twisted on his face and burned in his eyes.
Gravity sucked me down into him. Each pump of my body on his ratcheted me deeper, like a slingshot being pulled back, primed for release. The warning sirens of an orgasm triggered in my system. I was close. So fucking close, all it would take was one stroke of his fingers anywhere on my skin.
My moans and whimpers swelled as the heat inside my core surged. I writhed on him, casting my head back as I jerked his face into me, yanking on his suitcoat. I crushed his head to my heaving chest, undulating like a girl possessed, and shivered as his mouth locked around one of my nipples.
“Oh, God, yes,” I cried.
The stream of words came from him rapid-fire. “That’s it, fuck me.”
His hands suddenly moved. One gripped my thigh, and the other slid onto the small of my back. His palm and fingers pressed into me so hard, my bare skin dented around it. He pushed and pulled, urging me to ride him faster.
“Come on me.” His words were law—no alternative. And as the orgasm dug its hooks in, pulling me upward, he sensed it. “Fucking yes.”
I gasped for air but couldn’t find any. My hand stilled, pressing down on my clit, futilely trying to restrict the ecstasy that ripped through my body. It was a tornado. Uncontrollable and unpredictable. I convulsed as it spiraled outward, and Greg’s hands flew to my waist, holding me from bucking off him.
It lasted forever. The sensation washed from head to toe and back again, finally diminishing until I regained control of myself. I was shaky all over. At some point I’d lunged for him, and now I was a quivering mess in Greg’s arms, my forehead pressed into the crook of his neck.
His hands caressed my back, tracing each bump of my spine. I closed my eyes, nestled into him, and savored the moment. It was quiet, other than his rapid breathing.
“That was intense,” I whispered.
He shifted, nuzzling his mouth toward me until our lips met. The kiss started slow, but didn’t stay that way for long. It exploded as his tongue pushed past my lips and filled my mouth. He commanded me with words and without. With his possession and when he wasn’t even touching me.
As he rose to stand, carrying me up with him, I felt the opposite. Like I was falling for him, too hard and much too fast. Greg’s feet shuffled two steps across the rug, hindered by the pants at his ankles, and then we were both falling—him laying me down on the nearby couch. He draped me over the armrest, so my back was arched and followed the curve, and my hair fell, the tips brushing the floor below.
He hadn’t allowed himself to touch before, but now Greg made up for lost time. He climbed onto the couch, kneeling on the seat cushions as he drove his cock back into me, and his hands went everywhere. They glided over my stocking-covered legs. Smoothed over my garter straps. Coursed up my stomach and seized my breasts.
I swallowed one giant breath after another as he beat his hips into me, so deep it was almost too much. But even the uncomfortable sensation had a depraved and decadent edge that I loved. I had to reach behind me and grip the armrest to hold on, so his vicious thrusts didn’t send me over the side.
He was close. I could tell by the way his brow furrowed and the muscles in his chest tightened. His moans changed in pitch and grew urgent. Chaotic. I wanted him to lose control like I had. I wrapped my hands around his head as he latched his mouth onto my breast, his tongue slashing at the sharp point of my nipple.
God, it felt incredible. So good, I wondered if I’d come again. His relentless mouth roamed from one breast to another, working me into a frenzy. I arched further, bending backward uncomfortably on the couch arm, slamming my eyes shut as pleasure built behind a dam—one he knew exactly how to tear down and unleash everything.
Pressure mounted at the base of my spine, and my grip on the upholstery went white-knuckle. “Oh,” I gasped. “Oh my God.” I was seconds away from the dam breaking, and I wanted my lips on his as it happened. I opened my eyes—
Only to see Preston standing in the entryway, horror etched on every inch of his shocked face.
THIRTY
I slapped my palms on Greg’s shoulders and tried to push him off me.
“Oh my God,” I said again, only this time it was with shame and not enjoyment. As I scrambled backward and snaked my hands over my body to cover my bare breasts, he lifted his head, discovered what caused my panic, and turned to stone.
“Shit!” Greg spat out. He leapt off the couch and jerked his pants up, covering himself.
“What. The. Fuck?” Anger tensed Preston’s shoulders as he glared at his father.
Greg shrugged out of his
suitcoat in an instant and draped it over me. I was beyond grateful and pressed the satiny lining of the coat to my naked skin, rising off the couch to stand beside him. My mind flooded with too many thoughts at once. What was Preston doing here? How had we not heard him come in? And how long had he been standing there, watching us?
In my fantasy, him catching us was erotic, but reality was icy cold and the furthest thing from sexy.
“What are you doing here?” Greg asked. It was confused, desperate, and maybe a little accusatory.
Whatever shock and hurt Preston had was pushed out of the way to make room for seething fury. “I forgot my bag. I thought I could sneak downstairs and get it without bothering you. I wasn’t aware you were going to be out in the living room, fucking my girlfriend on the couch.”
I sucked in a breath and choked back the urge to remind him we weren’t a couple anymore. He was angry enough, I didn’t need to provoke him further. At least this explained why we hadn’t heard the garage door. I’d been too lost in my surprise to realize how strange it was Preston had come through the front door. He’d probably been hoping to get in and out of the house quietly and without disturbing his dad’s date.
But Greg felt compelled to correct him. “Ex-girlfriend. You two were broken up before Cassidy and I got together.”
The statement seemed to knock Preston sideways. His eyes went enormous, then narrowed down to slits. “Together?”
Greg shifted, moving subtly in front of me like a shield. “We were going to tell you.”
Preston sneered. “I should have known. I should have fucking expected it. You don’t care about me, Greg.”
It’d taken him more than a year of living with his father before he’d come around to calling him Dad, and the step backward now was painful. The name was sharp and cutting. Greg reacted as if he’d been shoved, and Preston looked pleased the verbal blow had landed.
