The Experiment

by Holly Hart

  “How nicely?”

  “How nice do you get?”

  It’s not the Texas sun that’s got me hot under my skin, sharply aware of my body, as Brandon traps my wrists in one strong hand. My fantasies spill forth in a flood that leaves the dam in ruins. How nice do I get?

  So nice, heels gouging the leather in the back of his rental car. Sweet as pie in his hotel room, lipstick smeared along his length. Ever so obliging in the elevator, jerking him quick between floors.

  “We should go somewhere.”

  “Back to the hotel?” He sounds as eager as I feel, rough and gravelly with want. Just like I imagined.

  “Not there. Wayne.” I glance around, impatient. “There’s a Holiday Inn by the lake.”

  “All right.” He almost drops his key fob in his haste to unlock his car. We pile in, all clumsy limbs and hurried shuffling. I’m still buckling my seat belt when he peels off the curb. His eyes are fixed on the road with a sort of ferocious concentration. I shiver all the way to my toes: I like him like this, all single-minded intensity. Need that focus on me. I’ve been stranded too long in the dry season. The drought ends today.

  “Right at the light.”

  Brandon nods. His jaw’s tight, knuckles white on the wheel. He guns it into the turn, and the thrum of the engine sets me tingling in all sorts of ways. The next few minutes are a thrum of excitement, burning desire, and a journey that seems to drag on forever before Brandon screeches the car to a halt, tyres practically smoking from his exuberance.

  “Get out, now,” he growls, eyes sparkling with excitement. I jump to obey his command, fingers trembling as I unbuckle my belt. Brandon’s door thunks open, then closed. I’ve no sooner stepped out of the car before his hands are on me.

  “Checking in’s too long to wait.” He corrals me against the car, bending me back over the hood.

  I hook a leg around his waist, grinding my hips to feel the swell of his cock. “We’ll get arrested. Public indecency.”

  “Give me a kiss.”

  I give him several. He reaches up to cup my jaw, turning my head for a better angle. His tie swishes against my hand, and I grab it, twisting it around my hand till he’s caught, at my mercy.

  “We—we really....” He gasps as I bite his shoulder.

  “Hm?”

  “Come on.” His grip on my wrist is firm and demanding. We tear across the parking lot, almost breaking into a run once or twice. There’s a moment, just one, where he stops me at the door—“You sure?”

  “Never more so.”

  We descend on the front desk like a pair of horny vultures.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brandon

  She has her hand down my pants in the elevator, teeth to my shoulder in the hall. I’m panting for her already. It’s supposed to be the other way around, but those wicked hands, that willing mouth... I can’t wait. She pushes me against the door and I pull her through it, and together, we collapse on the bed. One of her shoes comes off and clunks to the floor. My fly’s open already, and she’s shoving my briefs down, fast and rough.

  I pull her off just long enough to scramble her shirt over her head. She’s bare underneath—small, perky breasts; dark, sweet nipples. She moans as I lick at them, hand curling around my shaft. My breath hitches at the slick glide of the foreskin over the head, the heavy drag of her fingertips. I melt into the pillows, lost in the sensation of a hand other than my own—a firm, sneaky hand—stroking just right, squeezing, twisting, setting my belly aflame. And her lips...so close....

  “Want to taste you....”

  “Mm...ask me nicely.” I thread my fingers through her hair, holding her away from my cock.

  “Please, may I...?”

  “Please, what?”

  She shivers and goes weak, half-collapsing on top of me. I loose my hold on her hair. “Please, sir? May I suck your cock?”

  I bite my lip hard to keep from shooting in her hand. It’s been way too long for this to last. She sucks in a shuddering breath, and I push her back, sitting up so she can kneel between my legs.

  Lily takes the hint like this is what she wanted all along. She sinks to the floor, hands on my hips. Swallows me up, mouth hot and welcoming. Her tongue dances on my cockslit. I groan and fist the comforter, wincing as my broken fingers try to clench. Even the pain isn’t enough to distract me from what she’s doing. She takes me as deep as she can—about halfway—and curls her hand around the rest of me, stroking in time with her bobbing head.

  I rest my palm on her head. When she doesn’t resist, I curl my fingers in her hair, adjusting her pace to my liking. That wrings a desperate little sound out of her, somewhere between a moan and a whimper. I buck into her mouth and she swallows around me. Perfect—too perfect. Her arm’s moving—she’s touching herself, circling her hips, shameless in her enjoyment. I close my eyes: watching her like that’s bringing me perilously close to the edge.

  “Slow down.”

  Lily pulls back, not far enough, murmuring against my cock. “That what you really want?”

  “I’ll finish too soon.”

  “Maybe I want you to.” She laps at my head, and I throb, head tipping back. The ceiling light flashes in my eyes. “Maybe I want to drink you down. Or let you do it right here—” My cock glides between her tits, leaving a glistening trail of spit and precum on her skin. “—make me yours.”

  “Ah....”

  “Don’t hold back.” Her thumb glides over the head, circling, tracing the ridge. I bite my lip again, but it’s no good, too late. My cock jerks in her hand, over and over again, streaking her from sternum to chin. She trails her fingers through my cum, where it’s pooled in the hollow of her throat, and slowly, thoughtfully sucks it off. Her eyes slide closed, like she enjoys the taste, wants me like that.

  “Look at you....”

  “Look at you.” Lily taps a finger on my oversensitive cock. I hiss, doubling over. I’m still half-hard—dizzy, wrung out, and greedy for more.

  Even so.... “I need a few minutes.”

  Lily rocks back on her heels, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

  “Let me just grab a cloth—and I believe I had something for you....”

  “Hm?” She blinks, like she’d forgotten. “Oh, and you’ve given me so much already.”

  I chuckle, leaving her to her thoughts. When I get back from the bathroom, she’s stretched out on the bed, streaks of sunlight slanting across her body. She’s shed the rest of her clothes, and her skin’s wet and slick between her thighs, and over her chest and throat. I take my time toweling her clean, enjoying her quiet sighs of contentment.

  It hardly seems possible, but.... “Did you...?”

  “Finish? Hell, yeah.” She smiles, managing to look sweet and brazen at once. “You looked so good, all rumpled in your suit.... How could I not?”

  I look down at myself. I am kind of disheveled. As if picking up on my thoughts, Lily sits up, pushing my jacket off my shoulders and setting to work on my shirt. I stop her at the second button.

  “No—leave it on.”

  “Oh?”

  “Still kind of a horrorshow under there. After the accident, y’know?”

  “Let me see anyway.” She waits for my nod, taking her time with my tie and buttons. Like she’s giving me the chance to change my mind. I look away, not wanting to see what she’s seeing: swathes of pink new skin surrounding angry islands of still-healing flesh, barely scabbed over. I flinch as her finger follows a long, deep scratch from my collarbone to a point just above my right nipple.

  “This is awful.” But she doesn’t shrink away. Her palm feels cool and pleasant on the tender skin. “You’ll scar, just here.”

  I can feel where she means, a deep gouge at the crest of my shoulder, one I was afraid might need stitches.

  “No matter—it’ll make you look tough. Like you’ve seen yourself through a scrape or two.”

  I feel like I’ve stepped into a parallel universe, one where workaholi
c CEO Brandon Shaw never existed. One where I’ve always walked away from plane crashes and played laser tag. One where women like Lily kneel at my feet and soothe my wounds.

  I shake my head to clear the fog of unreality. “Hey. Pass me my jacket.”

  Lily reaches for it. I pull it into my lap and rummage in the breast pocket till I find what I’m looking for: a small velvet pouch, tied with a drawstring.

  “Here.”

  It’s cute, and a little sad, the way she doesn’t reach for it straight off. Like she’s not sure it’s really for her. Her gaze flickers between my hand and my eyes.

  “Go on.”

  She lifts it delicately, thumbing at the velvet. Still looking at me, as if I might snatch it away. I fall back on my elbows to let her enjoy it. Doesn’t seem like she gets a lot of presents.

  “Feels like...beads.” Lily works the drawstring loose and upends the bag. A sunny smile lights up her face as pearls and precious stones cascade forth, filling her palm to overflowing. She won’t know they’re real. She’ll just know they’re pretty: swirls of diamonds and blue topazes surrounding a large, tear-shaped sapphire, in the form of a peacock feather. Six strands of pearls hold the centerpiece in place. “A choker.... It’s lovely.” She tilts it toward the light, eyeing the flash of the gems. “And it is badass. All these sharp points....” She tests the ends of the feather with her fingertip.

  “Thought you could wear it when you’re the devil.”

  “It’ll match my costume like you wouldn’t believe. There’s beads, sequins, rhinestones—all in blue and white... How’d you know?”

  “Goes with those icy eyes.” I sit up slow, not to startle her. “Here—let me put it on for you.”

  “Collaring me already?”

  My cock twitches at that. It had crossed my mind. “Would you let me?”

  “Try it and see.”

  She holds out the choker and I take it, fitting it carefully around her throat. It’s an antique, with a complicated clasp. Lily holds my gaze as I work the hooks into place, a faint smile on her lips. She’s trembling a little, unconsciously leaning into my touch. I feel her skin break out in gooseflesh where my knuckles brush her neck.

  “There.” I sit back to admire the effect. It does match her eyes. The pearls have turned ivory with age, and complement the soft flush of her skin. “Beautiful.”

  “I have to see.”

  I admire her as she walks away, those round legs, that sweet, taut ass. Her back’s long and graceful, a smooth line from neck to tailbone.

  “It’s not...it’s not a family heirloom, or anything, is it?”

  “No—no. Picked it up at some pawn shop, over on Lamar.” Pawn shop, estate jeweler—close enough.... I follow her into the bathroom and crowd up against her back, admiring her reflection over her shoulder. The sapphire gleams against her throat, rising and falling with her breath.

  “Thank you—I didn’t say that yet. Thank you.”

  “It was implied.” Last thing I want is to let her feel bad about this, even for a moment. “What was your favorite part of today?”

  “So far? Hard to say....” A wicked glint steals into her eyes. “I mean, playing gunslinger was fun. Getting into your pants was better. But getting your note, back at the hotel—that was the best kind of surprise.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Like you knew exactly what I needed.”

  “Mm.... Maybe we needed the same thing.” I nuzzle at her neck. “It’s not your face, you know.”

  “What?”

  “You said you have one of those faces, before—that everyone thinks they’ve seen you somewhere. But that’s not it. It’s the way you talk.”

  “My accent?”

  “Your choice of words.” I settle in closer, soaking up her warmth. “Reminds me of a book I read. Or a movie I saw. Some character.”

  “If we’re watching, like, Carrie, some day, and you point at the screen and yell That’s it! That’s you, I’m kicking you right in the shin.”

  “Not Carrie. More like....” Again, the association eludes me. “I don’t know. It’ll come to me. Something’ll jog my memory.” They say scent’s more closely tied to memory than any other sense, but when I bury my face in her hair, all it brings to mind is sex and daring escapes and warm afternoons on the water. She smells good, sweet and clean even after our exertions.

  She turns around, bare skin soft against my chest. Her hands go to work on my belt, letting my pants drop to the floor. I’m ready for her again.

  “You bring protection?”

  “In my jacket.”

  We drift back to the bedroom. She laughs at my socks—never did get rid of those. I push her back on the bed. The sun’s sinking fast, bathing us in red. Lily reaches for me with the sunset burning in her eyes.

  I close my eyes as she reels me in by the tie. Always leading me around by the throat... One day, I’ll have to punish her for that. Shackle those grabby hands. But not tonight. Tonight, I want that edge of desperation—hands and lips and legs, all of her on all of me.

  “Put this on me.” I press the condom into her hand. She tears the wrapper with her teeth and slips it on me, one-handed and deft, eyes locked on mine. She’s still looking, smiling, as she wipes her hand on my shirt. I take in the slippery streak of lubricant on my breast pocket. “Naughty.”

  “Hm....”

  I reach for her choker, following the band of pearls with my fingertip. They’re already warm from her skin—gleaming pink in the dying sun. I press lightly on each one, till I reach the feather. It really is full of sharp points, resting so innocently against her skin. I fit my thumb over the central sapphire and push up experimentally. The prongs dimple her flesh. She gasps when I release the pressure. Ten tiny red marks remain.

  I push her legs apart with a snarl. It’s far too easy to picture her marked in other ways: purple fingerprints riding up her hipbones; the narrow stripes of a flogger. Handprints fanned across her ass. Not now. Not yet. She lifts her hips and I thrust inside, cock swelling at her satisfied moan.

  “Shameless.”

  She cocks a brow. “Should I be ashamed?”

  “No.” I find the self-restraint to hold back this time, teasing her with long, slow strokes. Whenever she starts to writhe and arch, I pull out all the way, rubbing my cock between her lips, circling her clit till she scrabbles for me, demanding more.

  “You look like the devil in this light.”

  “Do I?” She wraps her legs around me, seeking more friction.

  I smile, holding her off with a hand to her throat. “Look at you, with that sun in your eyes: all the fires of hell in there. And here....” I lean in to kiss her just below the collarbone, where a streak of orange light quivers with the movement of the blinds. “Kissed by flames. Even down there... Check out that burning bush.” It’s startling, how the blond thatch between her legs catches the light.

  “You got the devil at your mercy, and all you do is look?”

  I pull her close and flip us over. “C’mon, then—ride me, Satan.”

  I lie back and watch her take her pleasure. The light fades from red to purple to silver, from the fires of hell to the starry heavens. Lily takes her time, casually rubbing her clit as she takes my cock. Her other hand’s on me, wandering aimlessly, wringing unexpected thrills from the crease of my thigh, the line of my jaw, the dip between my pecs—places I never knew would get me hot.

  The moonlight catches her hair like a halo. It’s fluffed up from the pillow, and the blond is shining through everywhere, streaks and flyaways standing out against the black.

  “You’re not the devil. You’re a dream.”

  Lily takes my hand and guides it to her thigh, crushing my fingers into the tender flesh. “Don’t I feel real?” She grinds her hips and clenches tight around me.

  “Too good to be real.” When I narrow my eyes, I can hardly distinguish her from the shadows. I picture her in nine-inch nails and great black bat wings, eyes heavy with kohl
. I’d smear it down her cheeks, dark smudges like ash. Burn in her fire.

  She leans in close, startling me from my reverie. Her hard nipples graze my chest; her teeth scrape my throat. I can tell she’s getting there, the way she’s fluttering around me, breathing fast and hard. Her exhales come in short sighs and whimpers, helpless and urgent. I’m close, myself—have been, for a while—that edge just eluding me.

  I reach for her choker again, pushing it all the way to her chin, pricking the tender skin underneath. Lily yelps and half-collapses on top of me, hips pistoning in tight little motions as she finds what she’s looking for.

  “Yeah...like that.”

  She keeps going till my own peak hits, harder than I expected. I nearly gray out with the force of it, dazzling motes crowding the edge of my vision.

  By the time I return to myself, she’s curled into my side, head on my chest.

  “Pleased with yourself?”

  She bobs her head. “Very.”

  “Good.” I kiss her right in the middle of that blond patch. “Good, good.” A few minutes, and we’ll get up. Get showered. Get her back to her hotel. But for now....

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lily

  “Shit! Shit!”

  It’s pitch black in here. My clothes are nowhere. Everywhere. The neon readout floating over the nightstand flashes 3:45. 3:46.

  Brandon reaches for the lamp. He looks kind of adorable, all mussed and sleepy-eyed, but there’s no time to think about that. “Oh—oh, crap. You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

  Understatement of the century. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Got a whole red-carpet situation tomorrow—hair, makeup, it’ll eat the entire day. Wayne’s gonna... Where’s my shirt?”

  Brandon hands it to me. “Red-carpet situation? Rodeo stars do that?”

  Fuck. I have no idea. “Sometimes. I’m, uh... It’s a whole group of us. Pants?”

  “By the TV.”

  I wriggle into my jeans, foregoing panties when a glance round the room fails to turn them up.

  “Anything I can do?”