“Bullshit,” he said finally. “I don’t believe that for a second. You’re white-hot in bed. Who told you that? The dickless wonder?”
She giggled. “Ah…well…”
“And you believed him? You would trust the judgment of a guy who would put his dick into the mouth of a carnivorous bimbo like Kaia? When he had you?”
“Well, uh…” She struggled to control her quivering voice. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to—”
“But she did,” he said emphatically. “You’ve never put a guy in the hospital by blowing him, babe, which means that pointwise, you’re way ahead of Jaws.”
She exploded with laughter. “Stop it,” she said, waving her hand at him. “Stop being ridiculous.”
“Not as long as it makes you laugh,” he said. “I get off on that.”
He lifted her hand off his erection and tugged it up to drop a kiss on her knuckles. Then he threaded his fingers through hers.
The simple gesture felt wonderful. She wanted to jump on him and kiss him all over, for making her feel like this. So pretty, so sexy. Desirable. Even…well, powerful.
It actually made her want to try that all-too-emotionally-charged sexual technique with Nick. Just to see if it would be different. Not so stiff, awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassing. He had turned the rest of her life upside down. “Do you, um, want one?” she asked, on impulse.
“A blow job? From you? Fuck, yeah,” he said promptly. “How many times do I have to say it?”
She gulped. “No, I mean, ah…now.” She blushed, furiously.
He swiveled his head, wide-eyed. “Right now? You mean literally right now? In the truck? On the road? At seventy-five an hour?”
She nodded a nervous yes. “I would. If you wanted me to.”
“Are you nuts?” He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “After what happened to the dickless wonder?”
Her face went from hot pink to tomato red. “Oh, God. Sorry, then. Forget I said it.”
“Like hell.” The turn signal started clicking. Becca squeaked in alarm as they swerved, and juddered over the rumble strip onto an exit ramp at the last second.
He pulled off the main strip at the first hotel he came to, a long, dilapidated, one-story clapboard building. “The place is a dump,” he said, yanking up the hand brake. “But I, for one, am not going to notice.”
“Nick. Please. It was a dumb suggestion,” she pleaded. “You don’t have to be macho about this. Just ignore it and we’ll—”
“No fucking way. You think I’m passing up a chance like this?”
“But—”
“It’s not a dumb suggestion,” he said. “It’s just the setting that’s wrong. I don’t want to be a menace to public safety while you have my cock in your mouth. To say nothing of your safety. And my cock’s safety. Call me a pussy if you want, but I just don’t have that kind of nerve.”
“Uh, believe me. I’m not going to call you that. Ever. But I think you’re overestimating my abilities,” she said. “I’m not, you know, Mata Hari, or anything.”
“And you’re underestimating your power to turn me on,” he said. “It’s hard enough to keep my eyes on the road when you’re just sitting next to me, giving me a hard time. Imagine if you were sucking my cock. I’d go straight into a lane of oncoming traffic.”
“Uh—”
“You wait here. I’ll get us a room. This place probably rents by the hour, for cash.” He jumped out of the car and loped into the office.
She buried her face in her hands, shaking with laughter and nerves. That clown. He was doing it again, laying on his own special brand of rough, in-your-face charm that she found utterly irresistible.
He was out again in no time at all, yanking open her door. The urgency in his grip, the anticipation in his eyes, sent her into a tizzy of performance anxiety. Why did she do this to herself? She should have just gone for him some night when they were fooling around, and experimented with oral sex, spontaneously, lightheartedly. Without all the build-up and the fanfare and hoo hah.
Too late now. Her feet barely hit the ground, he was dragging her down the cracked, buckled concrete walkway so fast.
“Nick, please. Just keep in mind, it’s not like I’m this big expert,” she babbled. “The truth is, I’ve hardly ever—”
He swung her around, and she bumped up against the door. He shoved the key into the knob lock, and leaned down to kiss her, a long, clinging, sweet kiss that left her dazzled.
He lifted his head, gazed into her eyes. “A few pointers,” he said.
She blinked at him, bit her lip. “I’m listening,” she whispered.
“Simple.” He held up a finger. “One. Enthusiasm. Two. Be gentle, but not too gentle. Three. Use your hands. Four, the more spit, the better. Five, no moving motor vehicles. Last, but not least—no teeth. Other than that, anything goes.”
He turned the key in the lock and pushed her inside.
Chapter
23
Nick had a bad moment when he looked around the hotel room. Cramped, stale-smoke-smelling, funky carpet, fake, peeling wood paneling, water-stained ceiling. Squalid.
But they wouldn’t be there long enough for it to matter. They weren’t even going to use that sagging, sad-looking bed.
“Talk about atmosphere,” he said. “This place is steeped in the vibe of illicit sex. We might be the first licit sex this room has ever seen.”
Her eyes did that sparkling thing they did when she smiled. “What’s licit sex?”
He thought about it for a second. “Nobody paid, nobody betrayed.”
She nodded, and they stared at each other for an awkward moment. Becca’s face turned pink.
“Um, so, where does one begin?” she asked. “I mean, shall we just get right to it? Or would you like, you know, a lead in? What do guys prefer, anyhow? I’ve never actually asked one.”
His grin spread helplessly over his face. This was going to be fun, watching her flail around, clueless. She was so fucking cute.
“I mean, how would you like me to…should I undress?” she demanded. “Damn it, Nick, stop smirking at me like that!”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t help it. I love to watch you stammer and get all flustered. The clueless virgin act really turns me on.”
“What a surprise,” she snapped. “Like, what doesn’t turn you on, Nick? It’s a simple yes or no question. Dressed or undressed?”
“Think about it. Maybe you can figure it out for yourself. A guy’s cock is harder than a railroad spike. What’s better? Getting it sucked by a gorgeous chick who’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt? Or getting it sucked by a gorgeous chick who’s bare-ass naked? Huh. Tough call.”
“I see,” she murmured. “You don’t have to be sarcastic—”
“Round ass cheeks,” he went on dreamily. “Silky white thighs. Big, soft, jiggling tits with tight nipples just begging to be licked and sucked. And that hot pussy is the best part—”
“OK! I get the picture! You’ve made your point! Stop grinning at me like that. If you piss me off, I’ll change my mind.”
He felt the grin on his face go hard and predatory. “Uh-uh,” he said softly. “You’re not leaving this room until I get what I want.”
She rolled her eyes. “Here we go again with the sexual power-tripping, hmm? Nick, the master of all that he surveys.”
“Hell, yeah. I do my best. I have to overcompensate like hell, since most of it rolls right off your back. Otherwise you’d steamroll over me.”
“Oh, yeah. Right,” she snapped. She yanked off her glasses, and started taking off her clothes without ceremony, but her matter-of-fact striptease had its usual effect. It made him sweaty-palmed, breathless, to watch her kick off the sneakers, shimmy out of her jeans, peel off the T-shirt, unhook the bra, pull down the panties. He unbuckled his jeans and shoved them down far enough to free his cock, which sprang up to bounce and sway like it was spring-loaded. He stroked it idly in his hands and waited for her to
make another move. Her show, her call.
“Aren’t you going to take off your clothes?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “Me clothed, you naked. Me on my feet, you kneeling.”
She harrumphed, crossing her arms over her lush tits. “What is this, some male domination fantasy of yours?”
“What if it is?” he asked. “Anything wrong with that?”
She didn’t have a ready answer for that one and he pressed his advantage. “You’ll get your turn,” he assured her. “I’ll kneel before you naked and put my tongue up the imperial pussy for as long as you want. Hours, days. You’ll have to kick me away to make me stop.”
“That’s not the same thing,” she said primly.
“Why not?” he snapped.
“Because you’re a man,” she said as if it were obvious.
He snorted. “So I should hope. Stop your stalling.” He yanked the coverlet and the puffy synthetic blanket off the bed, folded them and tossed them onto the floor. “For your knees,” he explained.
“Ah,” she murmured. “How thoughtful of you.” She reached out, curling her smooth, cool fingers around his cock. “You’re burning hot.”
“Oh, yeah. One more thing,” he said. “That lipstick. The stuff you lifted off the mafiya mistress. The slut red. You got that stuff with you?”
Her gorgeous lips twitched. “In my purse,” she said demurely.
“Put some on,” he said.
“Of course. I’m ashamed I didn’t think of it myself.” She grabbed her purse from the bed, rummaging through it till she found the silver tube. Then she turned to the stained, dim-looking mirror, and peeked at him mischievously as she put the stuff on.
He wished he was a photographer who could catch that moment forever. Her gorgeous ass stuck out, legs parted for his viewing pleasure so that he could see just a shadowy glimpse of her cunt. Her front reflected in the mirror, tits swaying, dawning wonder in her eyes. Mouth pursed up as she painted herself with painstaking slowness. Dragging it out.
And him, in the background, clutching his dick in his hand. His eyes looked like staring holes in his stark face. He looked desperate.
Power tripping, hell. He was helpless, pleading, at her mercy. In the palm of her slender hand. The only place on earth he wanted to be.
He had to toughen up. Keep up his macho dominator schtick, if he could swing it. Melting down into molten slop for her was not a turn-on. Not a confidence builder. Not if he wanted to keep things light.
No I-love-you’s. He’d learned his lesson the night before.
She looked back over her shoulder and gave him a hot red smile. “You like this color?”
“Yeah,” he rasped. “I think that color would look really great around the base of my dick.”
It was a risk, but he knew it had paid off when her nose wrinkled up and he heard the telltale snuffle of suppressed giggles. “Pig,” she muttered, tossing the lipstick in the general direction of her purse.
She grabbed his cock as she sank to her knees, and oh, man. He was a goner. As usual, everything was different with Becca.
Including himself. He liked it. The fun, the teasing, the arguing. His face felt strange these days. It actually ached from smiling so much.
She rubbed the head of his cock against her hot, cloud-soft cheek, and flashed him a teasing look. “Does this remind you of something?”
She puntuated her question with a swipe of her pink tongue along the slit on his cock head that oozed clear, slippery drops of precome. She licked it up, swirling her tongue round his glans.
He struggled to remember what the hell she’d said. “Huh? Remind me of what? I can’t think straight when you’re doing that.”
“The night we met. Remember? Me naked, you clothed?”
He grinned. “You bet I remember. Me on my feet, you on your knees.” His breath hissing through his teeth in a shocked gasp of pleasure as she lapped up one side of his shaft, twisted around the glans again and swiped down the other side.
“So strange,” she murmured, between voluptuous strokes of her tongue. “It was like I was split in two. One part thinking, God, he is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen…” She took time out to flutter her tongue flirtatiously against the taut pucker of flesh on the underside of his cock head. “The other part thinking, this guy is going to kill me.”
He shook with a burst of silent laughter. “Same here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I’m so sure,” she scoffed. “As if I could be so scary, buck naked and dripping wet.”
His laughter shocked off as she did something totally amazing with her tongue, fluttering it underneath and around while she worked the base of his cock with her hands. “Oh, you were plenty scary,” he told her. “I thought I was meat. I thought Zhoglo’d sent you.”
That jolted her so much, she took her mouth away from that excellent thing she’d been doing with her tongue against his cock head.
Not a desirable outcome. He should have kept his goddamn mouth shut. But it was his own fault. Served him right, for falling ass over head for a talkative woman.
“No way!” she breathed. “Zhoglo? Me?”
“I thought, oh, shit, they’re onto me,” he confessed. “I thought, either you were a black widow assassin sent to fuck me and kill me, or else you were a call girl sent to fuck me and distract me so that somebody else could kill me. Either way, I was dead meat. I was consoled only by the fact that either way I also got to fuck you. Split-second response. Couldn’t call it thinking.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“Then I looked at your bare-ass naked perfect dripping body, and all I could think was, wow. What a way to go,” he concluded.
“You thought that I could be a call girl? Or an assassin?” Her voice squeaked till it broke. “A milquetoast wuss like me? Puh-leeze.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, “I know exactly what to do with an assassin or a call girl. I had no fucking clue what to do with you.”
She snickered. “Oh, you improvised well enough, as I recall.”
He ignored her, cupped her jaw and stared intently down into her beautiful upturned face as he struggled to frame the thought in words.
“You are so much more than I bargained for,” he said slowly. “You are like, the secret weapon, sweetheart. You take me to pieces.”
Her giggles stopped, the smile faded to a somber gaze, and she covered his hands with her own. She kissed both his palms, grabbed his cock and brought it to her mouth. And oh, sweet Jesus.
He would never survive pleasure of this intensity.
He’d had lots of blow jobs in his life. He’d started young, and never lacked for opportunities. He loved the lazy luxury of them, the feeling of godlike power, the wallowing in carnal bliss. Throwing his head back and just enjoying the sensation of a woman’s hot mouth sucking on his swollen cock until he exploded. It was one of those perennially dependable things like pizza. Even when it was bad, it was good.
True to form, with Becca, it was different. New world, new rules. She was honey sweet, red hot, a wildcat. He’d been with women with lots more experience and sheer technical expertise, but he’d never felt a woman go down on him as if she—
Loved him.
Whoa. No. Don’t go there. Not even in the privacy of his own mind. Shudders racked him, pleasure and terror in equal measure. He forgot all about godlike power, about power-tripping sex games. He just struggled to stay on his feet before this onslaught of selfless, ardent generosity. It humbled him, made him want to fall to his knees.
Her lush mouth moved over him, her strong hands twisted sensuously around the root while she laved the crown and sucked him in, deeper and deeper. So deep, for a clueless novice. And that agonizing…slow…swirl on every instroke, the deep hungry pull of suction, friction on every outstroke, and again, and again, and again. Yes.
He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t slow down. With the volcanic force gathering, it was too damn
soon, but that was just too damn bad—
He wound his fingers through her hair and shouted, hoarsely. Spasms of violent pleasure wrenched through him.
He was kind of surprised, some time later, to find that he was sitting on the bed. Good thing it had been right behind his knees, or he’d be flat on his ass. He was hobbled by the jeans that Becca at some point had jerked halfway down his thighs. His torso was collapsed over her body. Her head was cradled on his lap, her warm lips kissing his thigh. His cock, still long but finally softened, was nestled tenderly in her damp hand. Spent, home safe and happy. He couldn’t stop making that sobbing sound with every breath he sucked into his lungs.
He didn’t dare even look at her until it eased down, and that took what felt like forever. A dark, hot forever of nuzzling, of cuddling, wordless closeness, skin on skin. He never wanted it to end.
But everything had to end. Everything had to be let go.
He forced himself to sit upright. Every muscle in his body shook. He was soft and limp. Weak with pleasure, wet with sweat. Speechless.
Becca smiled at him as she raised her head. She wiped her mouth, and stroked her fingers through the wiry tuft of dark hair that curled around the base of his cock. “You know what? You were right,” she said, in a tone of discovery.
He cleared his throat. “About what?” he asked cautiously.
“This color,” she said, lifting his cock to the side to show him the smears of lipstick she’d left on it. “Slut red. It does look good on you.”
He started to laugh, helplessly. The laughter dissolved almost instantly into something else. Something that he was afraid to face.
All he could do was just grab her again, hide his face in her hair.
Her slender arms slid around his ribs and gripped him. Holding him as tightly as he needed to be held. They strained, fighting to pull the other closer, hold the other tighter.
Muscles shaking with the effort of becoming a single being.
The Vor was intensely irritated.
He jerked his chin in the direction of his coffee cup, but it took Kristoff ten seconds to catch on, and then the man fumbled, slopping coffee dangerously close to Zhoglo’s snowy cuff. If the coffee had spattered one centimeter closer, Kristoff would be dead.
Extreme Danger Page 33
