After a while, she slipped a finger into the elastic around his waist, pulled the boxers down and released his erection, which sprang up, desperate for some action. He opened his eyes and looked into hers.
“Show me how to touch you,” she whispered.
Surprised, he was nevertheless happy to comply. He picked up her hand and murmured, “Lick your palm.”
Her eyes widened, but she did so, running her tongue from her wrist to the tops of her fingers. Then he closed her hand around him and moved it up and down, long strokes from base to tip, her slick palm sliding around him.
He moved his hand away and watched as she continued to arouse him, apparently fascinated by the process. “Did you never do this for your ex?” he asked, puzzled.
“He didn’t like me touching him.” She didn’t raise her eyes, but continued to study what her hand was doing, pausing for a moment to examine the head of his erection, exploring the bumps and ridges with her thumb.
Felix closed his eyes again, his arms stretched out along the seat, revelling in her touch. She was like a virgin, and the process of educating her, of enjoying her process of discovery, was a wondrous thing.
Eventually, though, he couldn’t bear her touch anymore—he was going to come in her hand and he wasn’t sure if she was quite ready for that. Besides which, he wanted to bury himself inside her.
He pulled her hand away, ignoring her complaint, ripped the foil off the condom and rolled it on, then pushed up her skirts and lifted her on top of him.
“You’re very demanding,” she said, moving her hips until his tip parted her soft folds.
“Is that a complaint?” He held her hips and pushed up. She sank onto him, making them both gasp.
“Jeez. No, no, no.”
He laughed and brought her head down to kiss her, and she began to move on top of him, rocking her hips so he slid in and out of her velvet sheath. He moved his hands around her back, found the zipper of the bodice of her dress and undid it six inches. He slid the straps off her shoulders, and the material fell to her waist, exposing her breasts.
Felix groaned and covered a nipple with his mouth, sucking and groaning again as her tender skin contracted to a peak beneath his tongue. She moaned in return and arched against him, and he did the same to the other nipple until they were both wet and tight. Then he kissed her, continuing to play with her breasts while she thrust slowly on top of him, her slow regular movements driving him insane.
After only a few minutes, however, she lifted her head and kissed his cheeks, then his nose. Still moving, she said, “Felix…”
His eyes fluttered open, and he saw her studying him curiously.
“Mmm?”
“How do you make love to your other girls?”
He had not expected her to say that. “What?”
She kissed his ear. “I mean, I know you’re being gentle with me, and I really appreciate it. But when you’re with other women, are you the same? Or are you more…” Her voice trailed off, unable to put her feelings into words.
He put his hands on her hips, stilling her movements, and looked into her eyes. Her words had surprised him, but he suddenly he realised he’d been thinking about their relationship—such as it was—all wrong. Coco thought of their time together as an adventure. She wasn’t thinking any further than tonight, and she fully expected not to sleep with him again. She’d told him that she was the one who’d wanted more in a physical sense with her ex, and although he had needed to be gentle at first, she was trying to tell him it wasn’t enough.
She swallowed, obviously nervous she’d said too much.
He stroked her face. “There aren’t that many other girls, but don’t worry.” He kissed her. “I know what you want.”
She didn’t say anything, but her chest rose and fell quickly.
“You don’t want to make love,” he said.
She blinked and her mouth fell open. “Oh! I do, I…”
“No, you don’t.” He moved his arm around her waist and gripped her tightly, then moved forward and turned to lower her onto the carpet on her back, still inside her. She squealed, but he ignored the exclamation, knelt over her, gripped her hands and pinned them above her head so she lay powerless beneath him. “You want to be fucked.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Coco stared up at Felix. His eyes blazed, and his words made her heart thunder, but she couldn’t tell if he was angry or turned on. Had she upset him? He seemed to have got the wrong idea—she certainly wasn’t saying she didn’t appreciate his gentle manner, or that she wasn’t enjoying himself.
But she had felt he was holding back, and she’d regretted that. He was obviously afraid of hurting or frightening her by letting his passion free, and she wanted a hundred percent of him, not a watered-down version.
And that’s what he’d picked up on. He’d understood, and he was offering her the part of him she’d known existed behind his gentlemanly manner. She’d asked him, and she couldn’t now take her question back.
And deep down, she didn’t want to.
You want to be fucked, he’d said, and he was right.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His lips curved. He found her desire a turn-on, and the heat in his eyes was passion, not anger.
Still he didn’t move, but he pushed his hips forward, burying himself in her, forcing her to accept all of him. She’d never felt so stretched, so full—she could feel his thick, hard length all the way up, right to the top. She couldn’t take any more, surely? He wasn’t a small man, but she hadn’t realised last time how gentle he’d been, letting her guide the pace.
She gasped, tugging automatically at her hands, but he refused to free them, using his weight to pin her there. She was totally at his mercy—he could do whatever he wanted with her and she’d be powerless to stop him.
Fuck, that was sexy.
And so was the man leaning over her, supporting himself on powerful arms, hot as sin in his white shirt and black tie. His eyes fixed on hers, he moved his hips slightly from side to side, making sure there was no more of him left to bury inside her, and she groaned, finally understanding why they called it screwing.
Satisfied she’d taken all of him, he pulled his hips back until he was almost out of her, and then he thrust forward.
Coco gasped, arching against him, eyes wide at his challenging stare.
“Are you sure?” he said silkily. “You think you can take it hard and fast?”
She said nothing, bewildered by this other Felix, even though she’d been suspicious he existed. Taking her silence as acquiescence, he moved again, and again, setting a punishing pace with hard, deep thrusts that soon had her panting and moaning in equal measure.
He dropped to one elbow above her and kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and then planting hot kisses down her neck to her breast. He sucked her nipple firmly enough to make her squeal, then raised himself to kiss her again.
“Are you enjoying this?” he murmured, nibbling her earlobe.
“Um, yes…”
“I thought so.” He bit the lobe harder. “You’re very wet.”
“Felix!”
“What?” He kissed her. “It’s a good thing. Makes for less friction.”
He was naughty, this Felix, and it excited and aroused her in equal measure. She waited for him to thrust again, but to her disappointment he pulled out, holding carefully onto the condom.
“Oh.” She pouted.
He grinned and pulled her up onto her knees. He kissed her, then he made a circular motion in the air with his finger. “Turn around.”
She stared. “Huh?”
He kissed her nose. “I want to fuck you from behind, sweetheart. Turn around and lean on the seat.”
Her heart raced. Michael had never once taken her from behind, as if the position was somehow dirty and forbidden, too base and animal for decent people to indulge in. The thought that Felix didn’t think it was forbidden—in fact, he obviously
enjoyed it and was going to take pleasure in doing it—thrilled her.
She turned around and he moved so he knelt between her legs, and then he pushed her down so she leaned on the leather seat in front of her. He lifted her skirts so they hung over her waist, baring her ass to his view.
Then he slapped her butt, and she jumped and squeaked, “Ow!”
He laughed. “Come on, Coco. You must have had one of your exotic fantasies about a bit of mild S and M, right?”
“Goodness, no!”
“Liar. I don’t believe you, with your active imagination.” He rubbed his hand over her butt cheek where he’d slapped, caressing what she was sure would be an imprint of his fingers. “I’m not into pain, but there’s something sexy about a little chastisement.”
She leaned her forehead on her arms. She wasn’t going to make it out of the car without dissolving into an orgasmic heap.
He moved his hand from her butt cheek around her waist and then beneath to stroke her. He laughed as he obviously found her even wetter than before, and he plunged his fingers into her, sliding them through her slippery folds. “Wow.”
“Felix…”
“Jesus. You’re wetter than October.”
“Felix! Why do you like embarrassing me?”
He leaned forward and kissed her back as he continued to stroke her. “I don’t mean to embarrass you. But talking dirty is sexy and it’s something you have to get used to if you go to bed with me. And later I’m going to make you do it back, so you’d better start picking up some tips.”
Later? He wanted to sleep with her again. Oh hell, what was she getting herself into?
But it was too late to worry about it now because he was moving behind her and she could feel his hand guiding his erection into her.
“Widen your legs, sweetheart,” he said.
She complied, unable to believe she was being so wanton, and he pressed into her folds. Then, before she could prepare herself, he slid right inside her.
She gasped, and he held the position, hands on her hips, waiting for her to adjust.
“This way feels deeper,” he said huskily. He moved his hand underneath and stroked the hair on her pubic bone. “The man presses against the woman’s G-spot here, in this position. It’s supposed to be the easiest way for a woman to achieve an orgasm without clitoral stimulation.”
“Oh,” she said faintly. “I don’t think there’s any worry about that.”
He chuckled, returned his hand to her hip, pulled almost out of her and pushed forward again. She moaned as he filled her, feeling him so deep inside, she couldn’t believe she’d actually accepted all of him.
“Okay?” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered. I’m so okay, you’ll never know.
“Good. I’m going to fuck you hard now, so get prepared.”
Before she could reply, he thrust again, harder this time, and he quickly set a rapid pace, his hips meeting hers with a sharp smack as he plunged deeper and deeper inside her. She clutched hold of the seat, gasping when her nipples brushed against the cool leather, closing her eyes as her internal sensations gradually overwhelmed her external senses.
All she was aware of was the slide of him through her slick centre, the sound of his guttural grunts as he thrust, the warmth of his hands on her butt as he continued to stroke her. At first he leaned forward and brushed her nipples, or dipped his hand beneath her to rub her swollen skin, but before long his fingers were digging into her hips and she knew he was close to coming because she was too. There was no way to avoid it—this was just too hot, too sexy and she couldn’t have held back to save her life.
He thrust harder, and she opened her legs as wide as she could for him as the sensations began to build inside her, the exquisite tightening of her muscles that announced the arrival of her climax. She’d never felt such a long build up, a long, slow contracting that made her gasp as he pounded into her, and then suddenly it swept over her in a rush and she cried out with the force of it. He exclaimed loudly and shuddered, swelling inside her, and she pushed back, clenching around him. He dropped back onto his heels, bringing her with him, holding her tightly. Impaled upon him, all she could do was wait for the pulsing of her muscles to finish, conscious of the warmth of his arms and the fact that he was placing kisses along her shoulder and up her neck as he whispered gentle and tender endearments into her ear.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The following morning, Felix took a long swig of his coffee, swallowed and sighed. He’d hoped the triple-shot latte would help him keep his eyes open until lunchtime, having managed only three hours sleep after returning to his hotel room. In spite of the late hour, he’d lain awake for a while, his mind playing over the events of the night before, pictures slipping through his mind like a slideshow of Coco beneath him and kneeling before him, and sitting back on him with her back arched in sublime pleasure.
He’d had a fabulous evening, although he was puzzled as to quite why he’d so enjoyed himself. He’d been to the cinema before. Slept with women before. True, the midnight premiere in the Empire had been a bit different and the movie had been great, but he knew it was more than that. Coco had proved to be fun company, and they’d talked for hours about nothing in particular. She was intelligent and amusing, and even though they’d carefully steered clear of any topic connected with work, they’d still found plenty to discuss.
And then of course they’d followed it with the session in the limo, and that had blown Felix’s mind. Although initially he’d felt a strange pang of disappointment that all she was looking for was sex, that had quickly disappeared as her enthusiasm for his passionate lovemaking had overwhelmed him.
And yet afterward, he’d drawn her into his arms and she’d curled up on the seat as the car slowly made its way back south along the coast to Wellington, and he’d watched the moonlight playing on the water, filled with more than the usual brief pleasure he felt after sex. He felt content, and had to admit to more than a tiny rush of affection for the girl dozing lightly in his arms.
But same as the night before, they’d parted without any talk of meeting up, and therefore he’d lain awake wondering whether he should ask her out again, and what her answer would be. Half of him hadn’t been sure she would go to the cinema with him, but she had. Would she turn him down now, after all the fun they’d had together?
He blinked and focused on the iPad lying on the desk in front of him. He was supposed to be reading over his notes ready for interviewing Sasha De Langen at ten o’clock, not daydreaming about Coco with her silky blonde hair and red lips, and the way she liked to thread her fingers through his hair when she kissed him…
Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. He lifted his head and for a moment thought he’d conjured her up out of his dreams. Then he realised it was Miss Stark standing before him, not Coco. She’d pulled her hair back into its tight bun again and donned her glasses, and she wore a black suit today with a pencil skirt and a white blouse beneath the jacket. Her lips were a bright pinky-red. He got a hard-on just looking at them.
She cleared her throat again, her arms crossed over her breasts where she clutched a clipboard. “Good morning, Mr. Wilkinson.”
He grinned. “Good morning, Miss Stark. How are you today? Did you have a nice weekend?”
He thought he saw a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Yes, thank you. You?”
“Most amusing,” he said. “I didn’t get much sleep though. There was some bird outside that kept me up all night.”
She looked at the floor, struggling between laughter and embarrassment, and he chuckled to himself. She walked into the room to stand before his desk and said, “If you were that bothered about sleep, maybe you should have told the bird to go away.”
“Oh, I would never have done that.” He leaned back in his chair and surveyed her with a smile. “She sang beautifully.”
She met his gaze, and for a brief moment they just studied each other.
His s
tomach did a strange flip. But he didn’t have time to analyse it because at that moment Rob Drake appeared in the doorway.
“Hey, Miss Stark,” he said, walking into the room.
“Good morning, Mr. Drake.”
He glanced around the room. “No Sasha yet?”
“She’ll be along in a moment,” Coco said. “She’s asked me to be present, if that’s okay with you. I therefore thought I could combine it with taking minutes.” She turned her cool green eyes onto Felix.
He hesitated. He’d planned to question Sasha alone, hoping that with nobody else there to answer for her, he’d be able to get a better idea of whether she was telling the truth. He didn’t know Coco well enough to know how defensive she’d be of her secretaries. Certainly she’d stood up for the unfortunate Sam.
She was looking at the floor, but as his gaze slid to her she raised her eyes, and to his surprise he saw uncertainty and maybe even a little resentment in their depths. Sasha had asked her to be there and she’d felt as if she had to accept. That interested him. Why didn’t she want to be present? Because of what had happened the night before? But then he remembered the look Coco had exchanged with Peter Dell on Friday at the disciplinary meeting. There was an undercurrent here he couldn’t define.
He shifted uneasily. He had to remember he was here to do a job. That had to take precedence over his desire to get the office manager in the sack again.
“Of course I don’t mind if Sasha wants you here.” It would be good to have her taking minutes anyway—he’d thought he’d have to rely on his own note taking, which was always distracting when he was trying to interview. He stood and gestured for them both to take a seat in the chairs surrounding the coffee table. “Whatever will put her at ease.”
Coco sank gracefully into one of the chairs and crossed her legs. He couldn’t stop himself glancing at her tight pencil skirt. What was that faint ripple beneath the fabric at the top of her thighs? Dear God, was she wearing stockings? Now he was going to have real trouble concentrating.
Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 Page 17
