by Holly Hart
The muted “ding” announces its arrival and the accordion doors slide open.
“Hang on just one fucking minute,” she says, grabbing my arm as I try to step inside the elevator.
Oh, shit.
Her eyes are blazing. She pushes me into the elevator and the doors close behind us.
“You’re telling me that you’re a competitor in the Chase?”
Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
“Yes?” I offer weakly.
“And you figured out that I was the quarry?”
“Uh-huh. This morning.”
“That’s why I kept running into you everywhere I went? You were following the information on the quarry?”
I feel like I’m being interrogated by the team on The Shield. The walls of the elevator feel like they’re closing in on me. How did this all go so wrong so quickly?
“Yeah,” I say. “I should have figured it out sooner, but I obviously had a blind spot where you were concerned. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.”
Her eyes narrow.
“So how did you figure it out?”
“I was talking to Tricia. She told me you were… inexperienced. Everything else just fell into place after that.”
She’s silent for several long moments. My stomach is buzzing with nerves. Everything was so incredible on the dance floor. And now this.
Finally, she looks up at me again.
“Do you mean to tell me you have so much fucking money that you dropped millions of dollars to chase a woman just so you could sleep with her?”
“Well,” I say. “It’s a little more complicated than that. But yeah, I guess that’s the elevator pitch version.”
I grin, throwing chance to the wind. “Get it? Elevator pitch?”
She looks down at the key in her hand, then back up at me.
“Surprise,” I say weakly, waving my hands like a third-rate talent show host.
Before I can react, her hand flashes out and grabs the back of my neck. I brace myself for a body slam or something equally unpleasant. And honestly, she has every right to be pissed. I screwed up. Bad.
Instead, she pulls me into her, locking her mouth on mine and squeezing her body against me with a force that I can barely believe.
Her tongue snakes around mine as her hands slide up into my hair. My own glide down the plum fabric of her dress and grip her buttocks, driving our pelvises together.
“I ought to kill you,” she gasps.
“Later,” I groan, clamping my lips on her neck and stabbing the button for the third floor.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
39. CASSANDRA
My chest heaves as Carson fumbles the old key into the lock with one hand. The other grips my hair and locks me in place on top of his open mouth.
Our weight is against the door when it finally swings open, sending us crashing into the suite. My ass rams into the corner of an antique bureau, knocking it back several inches on the dark mahogany floor.
The room is lit with a single lamp on the nightstand next to a four-poster canopy bed. Carson effortlessly lifts me off the floor and tosses me on top of it. It’s so soft, I feel like I’m landing on a cloud.
He tears off his tux jacket and hurls it in the general direction of the door. I reach up and help him with his bow tie, sliding it off in a single tug. He props himself on top of me on the bed with his left hand and undoes the top button of his shirt with the other.
I finish with the rest of the buttons, laying bare that sculpted torso. The shirt joins his jacket on the other side of the room. All of this is so new to me, and yet with Carson it feels like I’ve done it a thousand times.
Suddenly I’m compelled to just squeeze his pectoral muscles. They’re so solid, so smooth. My hands explore the rest of him, running down the xylophone of his ribs to his abdominals. I count the lumps under my fingers: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
Now that my hands are in the neighborhood, they might as well take care of these pesky suspenders. Two quick squeezes on the silver clips and they going flying backwards. Then my hand reaches for the clasp of his pants.
Carson’s mouth disengages from mine with a wet smacking noise. He fixes me with his gaze.
“What’s the matter?” I breathe.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks, his chest heaving. “I only want to do this if it’s what you want.”
I grab him and press my body against his bare chest, feeling the unyielding softness there.
“I’ve never wanted anything like I want this,” I whisper in his ear.
That may very well be the truest thing I’ve ever said in my life.
As if on cue, his pants hit the floor and puddle around his ankles. He kicks them off and stands there a moment, wearing nothing but his boxers and a pair of long black socks.
I try to stop it, but the giggle escapes me.
“Oh baby,” I purr. “You are so sexy.”
He holds up a finger.
“Hang onto that thought.”
In two seconds the socks are flying across the room like a pair of blackbirds on the wing.
That’s when I see the massive tent under his boxers, and I gasp.
He reaches under me and lifts me from the bed, turning so that he’s sitting on the bed and I’m standing in front of him.
“I’ve waited for this my whole adult life,” he says, his eyes wide.
“Then I better not keep you waiting a second longer,” I say, reaching behind me and sliding the zipper down the $14,000 plum dress until the slider hits the spot where my back meets the cleft of my ass.
I shiver and the dress falls to the floor, exposing me to Carson’s greedy gaze. He looks me up and down, every curve, every freckle, every single flaw, laid bare in front of him.
In spite of myself, I bite my lip. I’ve never wanted anyone’s approval so badly.
His mouth drops open.
“You’re perfect,” he growls.
I reach forward and pull his face to my breasts. He kisses them gently, stroking the undersides with both hands. My whole body trembles at his touch as he runs his fingertips along the sides, then glides around to the hollow of my back.
As he does, I close my eyes and drop my head back. The warmth of his mouth as it closes over my pale pink nipple is delicious. They’ve both been bullet-hard since we entered the elevator, begging for this attention. And truly, I’ve been running on a low ebb of desire ever since Carson stumbled back into my life.
He alternates between my breasts, kissing one gently while massaging the other. He starts out slowly, gently, then changes to scraping the edges of his front teeth up and down them. The sensation is so powerful, so delightful, that I almost lose my balance. After long moments of this, he wraps his tongue around the nub again and applies pressure, sending a flood into the slit under my panties.
Without thinking, I reach down between his legs and reach through the fly of his boxers to the hardness within. It’s so hot to the touch, like a branding iron wrapped in silk.
“Unhhh,” he groans against my breasts. My heart soars. I’m so glad I’m making him feel as good as he’s making me feel.
Well, maybe not quite that good. But I can try.
Carson stands and his shorts drop to the floor, leaving him totally nude in front of me for the first time in our lives. It’s like looking at Michelangelo’s David in the low light of the bedside lamp. Every perfect curve, every angle, delineated by shadow.
Except he’s considerably better endowed.
I can’t imagine ever seeing another man naked – anyone else would pale in comparison. For a split-second my mind threatens to go to the other contestants in the Chase, but I clamp it down instantly.
I’m not with one of them. I’m with Carson. And if this is a dream, I never want to wake up.
Chapter Forty
40. CASSANDRA
“No fair,” Carson breathes, reaching behind me and clasping my buttocks in his hands. “You can see
me, but I can’t see all of you.”
He slides his thumbs under the lace waistband of my panties and pulls outwards and down. No one besides me has ever taken off my underwear before. The sheer eroticism of it makes me weak at the knees.
They slide down to my ankles and I step out of them. Carson leaves them hanging on the end of his index finger, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.
“Finally,” he growls. And by God, it is a growl. I can’t believe that the shy – yet handsome – teenage boy I used to debate has become this, this…
Man.
I let out a faint shriek of delight as he grabs me and lifts me back onto the bed. He returns his attention to my breast, kissing each freckle one after the other.
Meanwhile, his hand has found its way home. He uses it to stroke my pussy for a few moments until I can actually feel my lips parting in anticipation. God, that sounds so mechanical. But it’s so goddamn true. If mechanical is what a night with Carson is like, call me an engineer.
“You’re sure?” he whispers again. I can’t tell whether he’s afraid of my answer, or afraid of pushing me too far. I suspect the latter.
“Completely sure?”
I grab his hand and press his palm against my clit. My hips buck in response to his touch.
“Does that answer your question?” I whisper back to him.
He keeps his right hand on me as his left works my right breast and nipple. His mouth continues to attend to my left nipple. I lie there with my arm wrapped around his neck, making sure that mouth doesn’t stray from its job.
I shiver as Carson’s fingers reach my clit, gliding along the lips on either side. After a few moments, he dips the tip of his middle finger inside me.
My right hand grips his shaft, thumb on the underside, up and down. It’s like I’ve read a goddamn manual. In truth, just doing its job. Still, I go slowly, slowly. I have no idea if this is what I’m supposed to be doing, but judging by his groans, Carson is okay with it.
A handful of moments later, I feel the beginnings of a wave radiating out from between my legs. Part of it is sheer stimulation, part is the fact that it’s not from my own hand. It’s Carson who’s making me feel this way.
The intensity builds as Carson rolls his fingers around the circumference of my clit. Each twist brings another vibration, another wave, until I can’t hold back any longer.
I reach up and grab his neck, pulling myself to him and wedging my chin on top of his rock-like trapezius muscle. I drive my chin deeper and deeper into him with each tremor, as the pleasure waves finally crash against my shore.
My heart rate gallops as I gulp in air. It’s never been like this on my own. I want it to go on forever, entwined with Carson like this, feeling like this.
In my spasms, I inadvertently grip his cock tighter and he gasps.
“Are you okay?” I ask, suddenly terrified that I’ve hurt him.
“So okay,” he groans, lying back on the bed. “You don’t even know.”
I raise myself up and onto my knees, never letting his cock escape my hand. In the light of the bedside lamp, I see him bite his lip. I’ve never seen anything so sexy in my life.
Now that his bare chest is open to me, I go to work on it greedily with my mouth. I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t care. I kiss every bulge, stopping to flick my tongue along his nipples. Each lap against his skin draws a corresponding throb from his cock in my hand.
I reach his groin to find that he’s almost bare down there, aside from a few veins lining his muscles. Slowly, deliberately, I inhale his secret scent. I want to know everything about Carson.
“Cassie,” he whispers, wrapping his fingers in my hair. “Oh, please.”
I oblige, looking at his cock up close for the first time. I’ve imagined what it would be like, mostly during my one-woman shows in the secrecy of my bedroom. It’s thicker than I would have thought, with narrow veins circling the muscles. A dab of moisture glistens on his tip in the lamplight.
My tongue starts at the base, flattening against the underside and ever so slowly rising to the tip. Carson’s fingers close in my hair in response. My tongue moves to the sides, first one, then the other. Up and down, up and down.
After several of these turns, I finally get on all fours and face his cock head-on. My lips close over the tip, and my mind flashes back to Carson’s finger in my mouth that day at the restaurant. God, I wanted him so bad in that coatroom.
But this is sooo much better.
He exhales as my mouth explores downwards, my tongue wrapping around the shaft like Cleopatra’s asp. I reach about halfway and can’t go any farther, so I head back up, adding suction as I reach the tip again.
“Huhhh,” he groans as he reaches up to slide two of his fingers inside me.
I continue up and down, gripping my fingers around the base to add to his sensations. Again, I’m not getting any complaints, so I must be doing something right. I respond to his touch with slick wetness, lubricating his fingers as they explore my pleasure center.
We do this for what seems like forever, until Carson finally moves away from my mouth and props himself on one arm. My pussy misses him immediately when he withdraws his fingers.
“My turn,” he says with a grin.
He lifts me and turns me in one deft movement, laying me on my back on the coverlet. I reach on either side of me to push it down, revealing the glorious satin sheets underneath.
Carson drops over me, supporting himself on his elbows, as his mouth explores mine, then wanders over to my earlobe and the hollow that forms where it meets my neck. From there he moves down to my throat, then my breasts again.
My belly quivers as I realize what’s happening. I’ve imagined this for years, wondering how it would feel.
I’m going to find out, and with that knowledge my chest begins to rise and fall like the pistons of a steam engine.
Carson’s lips are on my belly, then the orange fuzz of my groin. He kisses me there lightly, like a butterfly landing.
I breathe deeply as he reaches his destination. His lips close around the hood of my clit and his tongue greets my lips with a long, slow glide. The tremors begin and suddenly I understand why he had to wrap his fingers in my hair. I do the same with his.
My hips begin to respond on their own. Raising to meet the pressure of his lips and tongue, pressing against him and the softness there. After about a century of this, Carson’s tongue changes suddenly, become hard and insistent.
I gasp as my hips buck as the probing tip of his tongue presses against my clit. I can’t hold on anymore, I have to let go.
Just when I think I might lose my mind, his tongue becomes as hard as any other of his muscles and presses against me with an intensity I couldn’t have imagined even ten seconds ago. The world melts into a riot of colors and feelings as my body heaves and shakes with pleasure.
Chapter Forty-One
41. CASSANDRA
I never understood how this could feel. You can’t imagine something like this until you experience it. Even my pocket rocket pales in comparison.
Carson kindly lets me recover my vision for a few moments as he rummages through his pants pockets. Finally he emerges with a foil square in his fingers.
He comes back to the bed and I reach out and grab the condom.
“I want to do it,” I say, trying to look like a dirty vamp.
It must work, because his cock bobs up and down in appreciation.
“Okay,” he says, eyes wide.
I’ve never done this before, obviously, but as Carson pointed out, I’m a very capable person. A quick study, you could say. I tear along the dotted line and remove the disk, leaving the package on the night table.
Carson kneels in front of me as I drop to all fours on the bed. I grasp his cock by the base and pull him closer. He obliges by shuffling a couple of inches on his knees.
The tip of his cock is gleaming as I unroll the condom over it. Once it’s past the edge of the head,
the edge of no return, I grab hold with my thumb and forefinger and unspool it down to the base. It’s so thin – almost like you can’t even see it.
That’s the limit of my bravery, though. My belly fills with butterflies as Carson positions himself above me and between my open thighs. He props himself with one hand and guides the tip of his shaft into my opening with the other.
The sensation of fullness comes over me as he slides slowly into my canal. His eyes are on mine as he moves, watching for my response.
“Don’t stop,” I beg. “I’ve never wanted anything so bad.”
God, he’s reduced me to begging. I always swore I’d never do it if I was ever captured. But with Carson? It’s irresistible.
“Me either,” he sighs as he eases himself the rest of the way in. It hurts, oh God, it hurts. But it’s as though Carson knows exactly what I’m experiencing. He knows when to stop, when to drop his mouth to mine, when to absorb as much of my pain as he can.
And when I’m done with pain. When what I want – what I need – is pleasure.
I grip his neck in my arms as he begins to move, slowly, gently. I’m so wet that his girth isn’t a problem. We move in sync with each other, matching each stroke.
“It’s so good,” I moan.
With each movement it gets easier, until Carson is thrusting all the way in each time.
He pushes himself up and leans his weight back until he’s on his knees, his butt on his calves. I let him do what he wants – I trust him to know what’s going to please me.
He reaches down and curves his sculpted arms under my thighs and lifts them until they’re pointing straight at the ceiling, propped against those cannonball shoulders. I feel him ease in even deeper than before.
Now the tip of his cock starts to press against the inside of my pelvic wall and a sensation like a bruise of pleasure overtakes me. That’s the only way I can describe it. It doesn’t sound sexy, but it is. Believe me, it is.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, eyes wide.
He leans forward slightly and we lock gazes once again, staring at each other’s souls as each thrust lands home. Finally I can’t take anymore, and I throw my head back in abandon. My hands grip the fabric of the plush headboard on the wall behind me and I hang on for dear life.
