Hard Liquor: Runaway Billionaires: Arthur Duet #2

by Blair Babylon

  “The Blue Room” looked like a mid-century modern living room.

  The boxy furniture wouldn’t have looked out of place in her grandmother’s house. The couch was upholstered in blue canvas, just medium blue, and the chair was covered in matching chintz. A large television perched on a mahogany console table.

  The room looked like someone had gone to Pottery Barn, pointed at a display set, and walked out.

  Except for the big, steel X in the corner that reached almost to the ceiling, the one with ropes dangling from the ends. That big ol’ thing did not look like a Pottery Barn item at all.

  Now that Gen looked around, the dark wood hutch in the corner wasn’t filled with rose-painted china or knick-knack collectibles, either. The glass was lightly frosted, but Gen could still see the black, vertical lines and trailing tails of whips and floggers inside.

  So this particular room in the BDSM sex club was only lightly kinky.

  Okay, she could handle that.

  The thing that made her the most nervous was the ginormous bed lurking on the other side of the room. Sheer curtains like dangling zombie wraps hung from the sides, except the clean muslin was hemmed nicely and the edges weren’t raggedy. It was a four-poster, of course. Thick, dark wood beams jutted from the corners and were topped by more dark wood beams, but it didn’t look ostentatiously kinky.

  Arthur was thanking Jeffrey, who insisted that it was no problem and they should not think about it.

  She shrugged the jacket of her pantsuit off, hung it over a chair, and pried her chunky-heeled shoes off with her toes. Blood rushed into her feet, and her hamstrings stretched with relief.

  From the hallway, Gen heard Jeffrey’s gravelly voice say, “Good to see you again, man. Catch up with you tomorrow morning.”

  Arthur walked into the bedroom, kicked the door shut, and strode toward her.

  Okay, now or never. Gen was totally going to use all her feminine wiles to get him to commit to defending his case.

  She began, “Arthur—”

  When he had almost reached her, he ducked.

  That was weird. “You okay?”

  He kept walking and shoved his broad shoulder into her stomach.

  Air rushed out of her. “Oh, my God! What are you doing?”

  Arthur stood up with her draped across his shoulder, caveman-style, and marched toward the living room area. The rest of the room fell away backward from where she stared upside down at the carpeting flowing below her and Arthur’s fine butt as he walked. Blood rushed to her head, throbbing in her ears.

  “Arthur!” she said.

  A sharp slap stung her butt.

  She gasped. “Did you spank me?”

  “More of a swat,” he said. “No talking.”

  “But we need to—Eek!” He flipped her around like they were swing dancing, and she ended up on his lap, sitting in the chair. She shrieked, “What has gotten into you?”

  He slid his hands over her waist. “You. You have utterly possessed me, and now I shall possess you.”

  He drew her to his lips and kissed her, moving his mouth over hers. His hands roamed her flesh, stroking her, groping her breasts and her ass through her clothes, until she moaned against his lips. When he touched her, her body turned sexy, voluptuous and lush, and she pushed her boobs against his chest.

  Under her mouth, she felt him smile.

  He flipped her hair out of the way and nipped her neck.

  His teeth stung her skin, but her body was so focused on him—his hands, his chest against hers, his mouth—that it didn’t hurt. It was a kiss, concentrated until it scorched.

  Gen lifted her chin, exposing more of her neck to him.

  Every kiss became a scrape of his teeth and pinch on her skin, and his hands groped her ass and her boobs, his caresses turning rough.

  Thrills shot through her with each nip and tweak.

  She leaned into his hands and his mouth, seeking more.

  He picked her up in his arms.

  She gasped and hung onto his neck. “What are you doing?”

  “I believe I have a promise to keep.”

  “What’s that?”

  He grinned. “I think you’ll remember.”

  Arthur walked around the chair with her in his arms and set her on her feet, steadying her until her feet didn’t bobble. He tugged her blouse and bra off, the silk and thin fabric slipping over her skin. His eyes devoured her, lingering on the flimsy silk triangles of her lingerie as he stripped them off of her.

  He spun her around to face the chair and pressed his hand between her shoulderblades, bending her over the back of it.

  She slapped her hands down on the cushion on the other side to keep from going over. “Hey!”

  Behind her, he stripped her pants and underwear off, leaving her naked and kicking, slung over the back of the chair.

  “Now what are you doing—oh!”

  He grabbed her thighs and parted them.

  She couldn’t see behind her. The chair’s blue chintz slipcover blocked out everything around her, and her nose pressed against the rough fabric of it. Clean cotton and lemon fabric softener tickled her nose.

  Something warm and wet—a tongue—pressed between her thighs.

  Gen held onto the chair, the slipcover coming loose in her fists as she grasped the fabric.

  Blood rushed to her head, pounding in her temples in time with her pulse, while Arthur swirled his tongue over her folds and deeper inside. In less than a minute, she was panting as the waves of pleasure overtook her. She curled her fingers around the arms of the chair, hanging on because she might fall backward, land on him, and probably break his nose.

  He licked deeper inside her, rubbing her with the soft roughness of his tongue, running the heat of his mouth over her delicate skin and her clit.

  Gen panted. The pounding in her head and her body thrummed through her, building until her whole body throbbed with release.

  When she went limp over the chair, his hands grabbed her, peeling her off the back of the chair and flipping her over, forcing her to her knees. Her body still pulsed, the skin between her legs slippery and too sensitive.

  He unzipped his fly and flopped out his cock. It stood erect against his stomach, pointing back toward his navel.

  The waves of the orgasm lingered in her mind and body, slow surges of pleasure. She couldn’t quite open her eyes beyond languid slits, and her eyelashes overshadowed even his immense form in front of her.

  He twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back. “Open your mouth.”

  She did what he wanted her to.

  He slid his thick cock between her lips, thrusting into her mouth. He was rough, pushing her head forward with his fist in her hair and shoving his cock down her throat.

  The rough curls at the base of his cock were just an inch from her face, black and coarse. A fuzzy trail led from his navel between the heavy muscles that corrugated his abdomen. The warm, earthy scent of his body drifted from him, and she breathed in through her nose, trying to take it inside her, too.

  His hips bucked, cramming his cock in. It swelled inside her mouth, and he groaned as he pulsed warm saltiness into her mouth and throat.

  She started to pull away, but he held her mouth on him. “Suck.”

  Gen rounded her mouth inside and sucked on him, pulling the blood back up into his cock so that he stayed hard.

  His hand in her hair forced her forward, taking more of him, until he pulled her back. “Good, pet.”

  Arthur picked her up off the floor and carried her to the couch.

  By now, she realized what was going on. After the night of his car accident when he’d broken his ribs, when he’d taken Oxycontin and been tricked into matching shots with Christopher, Arthur had whispered promises in her ear inside his dark apartment.

  She had been too afraid to step into his arms to take him up on them, then.

  Tonight, however, she wasn’t afraid.

  And she knew what was goi
ng to happen next.

  Arthur sat on the couch with her in his lap, her hip pressing against his erection. “Sit there,” he said, pointing to the couch beside her.

  She moved over. The slipcover on the couch moved under her knees, sliding over the cushion underneath.

  He poked through the contents of a drawer in the end table by the couch and came up with a small, foil packet between his fingers. The Devilhouse probably bought those things by the truckload.

  Arthur shucked his clothes, revealing that glorious red and blue tattoo on his magnificent back, bulging with muscles. Soft light glowed on the rounds of his heavy pectorals and broad shoulders, and the rippled abdominals around his tight waist flexed as he twisted. He sat on the couch’s center cushion.

  “Back here,” he said, ripping the packet open with his teeth and slapping it on himself. “Turn around,” he said. “Astride.”

  She did. Her hands settled on his shoulders, and she brushed the tattooed ribbons reaching over his shoulders.

  Her body was still fluttering inside from his mouth on her. “I don’t think I can come again, not after that.”

  Arthur’s silvery eyes were misty, and when he breathed, the heavy muscles of his chest expanded. “Yes, you can. Do it.”

  His strong hands encircled her waist, and he raised her to her knees and angled himself under her, then pressed her hips down.

  She took him into herself, sighing.

  The skin of her folds was still oversensitive, swollen, but inside, she ached for him. He filled her, and she hadn’t realized how much she longed for him.

  “Use me,” he whispered.

  “I don’t want it to be like that,” she said, rocking on him, feeling him deep inside her.

  He said, “Take what you want.”

  She rose up and took him inside again, pressing herself over him. He filled her inside where she wasn’t raw from his tongue, until she dipped down over him so far that her clit felt his body.

  She gasped at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

  Arthur wrapped his big hands around her hips, pressing her while she rode him, leaning back on the couch so she could take any angle she wanted.

  She wanted them all. She wanted every inch of him, his skin, his thick muscles, and his hardness inside her.

  Gen leaned back, bracing her hands on his knees, feeling his cock rubbing her on that bright bundle of nerves inside, and then she rested on him, his arms around her, while she ground her clit on his body. She moved her hips in circles and felt him within her, and she pumped down hard on him and felt him ramming into her.

  She shoved herself down on him, her body tightening, spiraling out of control, while Arthur stroked her back and lifted his hips, deepening his breach of her body. Gen pumped on him, her thighs trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. His hard shoulders were tense, and his abdomen rippled with muscle under her tummy.

  Her body strained, reaching for release, tension-twisted.

  A flush of opening deep in her core, and relief blasted through her, riding waves from her belly through her limbs and head.

  She collapsed against him, her breath sobbing, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  In her ear, he growled, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and under her butt, and he stood up with her in his arms and still impaled on his erection.

  Gen gasped but hung onto his neck.

  Every step he took pushed him deeper inside her, a slow burn that turned to an ache of longing.

  Good Lord, she couldn’t want more.

  Could she?

  He lowered her to the bed, softness rising all around her. The mattress dipped under Gen’s back as Arthur clambered onto the bed over her and pushed his cock back inside her. She arched under him, yearning for more.

  Holding himself above her, he said, “I have wanted this for months.”

  The soft glow from the living room lamps barely reached the bed, filtering through the sheer curtains, so it looked like Arthur was surrounded by candlelight. His silvery eyes had turned blue in the glowing light, and his beauty took her breath away.

  Damn, after all this time, Arthur still stunned her.

  She reached up with one hand, touching his cheek. His evening scruff was rough against her palm. “I’m so glad you’re still here.”

  He nodded, his jaw rasping on her fingers. “We have tonight.”

  She nodded, too, but tears burned her eyes. Only having one more night with him was unfair, so unfair. Most people got decades or a lifetime together.

  And yet, she should be grateful for another day. They might not have had these few hours if Arthur had gotten into that van.

  He dipped his head, and his mouth covered hers, warm and soft on her lips. He moved his hips, slowly stroking inside her.

  Gen’s brain fuzzed. His skin warmed hers, smooth on her softness. She breathed him in, the soft scent of his fading cologne and natural musk, a masculine scent that never failed to shoot straight to the animalistic parts of her brain. She stopped thinking. She just wanted his skin to move on hers, for him to push himself deep inside her, to take her hard.

  Arthur’s hands found hers, and he pressed her wrists to the bed, holding her arms down.

  She was okay with it.

  Indeed, she relaxed into his arms.

  He moved away from her mouth. His breath heated her neck. She arched under him, pushing her boobs against his chest and trying to rile him up as much as she was.

  Instead, Arthur’s mouth was gentle on her neck, and he trailed his hot breath down her skin to her chest.

  He whispered, “Hold the pillow. Don’t move your arms.”

  Gen grasped the pillow above her head.

  “Nice,” he whispered when he saw her boobs lift. “Don’t let go of the pillow.”

  He ran his hands from her shoulders to her wrists, and then he pinned her hands above her while he touched her.

  Even though he was holding her down, Arthur was gentle, and slow, and he took his time to caress every inch of her skin with his stroking fingers, his warm and humid breath, and his soft, sucking lips, even while he was still buried inside her. His hardness and his hand on her wrists pinned her to the bed, utterly helpless.

  Gen panted, whispered, “Please. Arthur, please,” begging for his body to move in hers.

  He kissed her, his tongue stroking hers when he began to move inside her, pulsing within her core at first, then slower and longer strokes.

  His body ground against hers, and he overwhelmed her. His skin stroked her shoulders, her breasts and belly, and the inside of her thighs as he moved. His hardness filled her body, long penetrations that rubbed her slowly deep inside, and his breath filled her mouth and lungs.

  Gen whimpered against him, pushing with her hips, trying to make him take her harder, but he wouldn’t change. He sank into her with the same rhythm, relentlessly filling her with himself.

  When he pushed himself up on his arms, his silvery eyes were dazed.

  Every slide from his tip to driving deep inside her was a rising wave of pleasure, each plunge cresting a little higher.

  She reached for him, holding his shoulders, the muscles thick and hot under her palms, as she whimpered, moving under him.

  Arthur lowered his face to hers, still stroking inside her, and kissed her, long and gently, before he braced himself on his elbows and buried his face in her shoulder. He slipped his arms under her shoulders, wrapping her body with his, and his thrusts became deeper, harder, more urgent.

  Gen teetered on the edge, her body ransacked by his, every part of her open to him, his breath hot on her shoulder as they exhaled. Her heart beat in time with his, and her flesh heated with the friction of his skin against hers. She held onto him, clutching him but secure in his arms, as he drove her over the edge.

  The waves caught her, billowing up her body, and still he moved slowly inside her to prolong the
current that dragged her under.

  Arthur’s breath fluttered against her neck as he gasped. His body stuttered, lunging into her. A soft and wordless cry broke from his lips as he strained, every muscle locked.

  “Gen,” he whispered, his sigh almost desperate against her shoulder. “Genevieve.”

  Legal Consultation

  GEN snuggled down in the soft blankets and mattress, exhausted. She was so tired that she couldn’t open her eyes, and her skin stuck together between her legs. Her muscles felt melted.

  Beside her, Arthur was breathing softly, not asleep, his body curled around her. When he moved, each movement was as languid as a slow waltz.

  He ran his fingertips down her spine. It might have tickled, had she been awake enough to feel it properly, but everything felt like softness and ease around her.

  “I need your services tonight,” Arthur whispered, stroking her back.

  “You just had my services, buddy,” Gen muttered into the pillow.

  “Not like that,” he said, chuckling. He kissed the back of her neck. The soft light from the lamps on the other side of the room was dim around them, and the tall posts on the corners of the bed threw radiating shadows over the white sheets. He said, “I need your barrister services.”

  Gen sighed, “Good God, is there a judge in here? I’ll bet most of those kinky wankers like to watch.”

  “I need your help in preparing a document.”

  She drew the covers more tightly under her chin. “You need a solicitor, not a barrister. We litigators don’t do paperwork crap.”

  “I need a will,” he said.

  Gen struggled in the sheets, rolling over to stare at Arthur. He was lying on his back, gazing at the sheer canopy above them.

  She asked, her eyes wide, “Are you telling me that you don’t have a will?”

  “It’s old. It leaves everything to Christopher and his heirs.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Quite.”

  “I suppose that you do have the money that your mother left you. That should be sole and separate property, no matter where the earldom ends up. Christopher got some of her money when your mother passed away?”

  “Half.”