No, not like. I fucking love it.
I lick him again, let my tongue explore every inch of him, curling over his shaft, my hands sliding along his length at the same time. He lets me do that for a while, until his cock jumps in my hands, tensing with his desire. Then his fist tightens in my hair, and I know what he wants.
Closing my eyes, hoping I'm doing this right, I part my lips and let his cock glide into my mouth. I'm nervous, seeing how large he is, but he fits after all, and my lips close around his shaft as the tip of his cock inches farther into my mouth.
I lean forward, take as much of his dick as I can between my lips, my tongue pressed flat against the underside of his shaft, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock.
"Grab my balls," he murmurs above me, and I reach my other hand down to cup them. "Harder."
I squeeze gently, rolling them between my fingertips as I start to rock back and forth, pushing his cock out of and back into my mouth in a slow rhythm.
"Good," he says, and his voice is almost a sigh. "Now deeper."
I tense with nerves, but he doesn't give me time to worry. His fist clenches around my hair, pulls me farther onto his cock than I thought possible. I feel the head of him almost at the back of my throat, and for a second I almost panic, but I hear his voice again.
"Relax."
I let myself go. Let him take total and complete control of me. He pushes and pulls me, rocking his hips in tune with the motion, thrusting into my mouth.
"You like that?" he says, low enough that I can hardly hear him through the table. "You like having my dick in your tight little mouth?"
I groan around him, trying to agree, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. I moan again, slower and longer this time, so he can feel the vibration in my throat along his cock, and his hips buck against me with pleasure.
"You are a fast learner, aren't you?" he manages between gritted teeth, and in response I move quicker, wrapping my hands around him as I suck him harder. It's getting me so fucking wet to hear the suppressed quiver in his voice, to feel the way his cock bucks in my mouth and his body tenses beneath my fingertips. For this moment, I am in control of this cocksure, confident man, and I am fucking loving it.
"Sir, your first course."
We both freeze at the sound of the waiter's voice. I have my lips wrapped around the head of his dick, my hands in his pants, and I'm too freaked out to move an inch. I can't even breathe. To judge by the long pause from Pierce, he's having a similar problem.
Then, "Thank you," he replies, and somehow his voice sounds smooth as silk again.
That vengeful drive of mine kicks in. No way is he going to get away sounding all sweet and innocent when he's the one who talked me into this position. I flick my tongue along his shaft, twirling it around his head, and grin as his hips jolt slightly.
"Would you like me to wait until the lady returns? It is best served immediately."
"She shouldn't be . . . long," he finishes after a slight pause, one that probably only I noticed. But it's enough to make me go at him faster, rocking my head back and forth again, drawing his cock as deep into my mouth as I can stand and back out again, slow, my tongue teasing him all the while.
"Very well, sir. Would you like more champagne?"
"That would be lovely, thank you," he responds, to my horror. Shouldn't he be trying to get rid of this guy? Or does he want to get caught?
I dig my nails into his upper thighs a little, and feel his hand clench around my hair in response. I suck harder, move faster. His cock is a solid, trembling mass of tension now.
I listen to the waiter's footsteps—how did I miss them last time? —and the distant sound of him opening the champagne bottle, pouring Pierce a slow glass. All the while, Pierce keeps his fist in my hair, his hips arched, his cock rock hard.
"Anything else?"
"That will be all, thank you."
Footsteps cross the roof again, and I pump him harder, forcefully. A door slams somewhere in the distance, and almost exactly at the same time, Pierce grips my head with both hands and thrusts all the way to the back of my throat, groaning as he comes.
I tense and start to gag at first, but he holds me in place. "Swallow it," he hisses, and his breath is tense with ecstasy. “Swallow my fucking cum.”
So I swallow hard, and when he releases his grip on my hair, I keep going, sucking him in and out of my mouth, lapping up every drop of him, because fuck, he tastes good. I didn't expect that. I didn't expect any of this to feel so . . .
Hot.
When he finally sags in his chair, his hands still tangled in my hair, I slide out from under the table and retake my seat beside him, smoothing my hair, which I'm sure he's fucked into a tangled mess.
His eyes catch mine, bright with humor. "You have a little . . ." He touches his chin, and my face lights up red as a fire engine.
I grab my napkin to dab at the corner of my mouth, feeling the small trickle of his cum there. Oh my god. I'm still trying to wipe it clear when the door to the roof crashes open again and the waiter prances out with a jug of water.
I drop my napkin to my lap like he's just seen me clutching a murder weapon. My face still feels hot as hell, and I wonder if it's obvious from my disheveled hair and puckered lips what's been going on here.
The waiter refills our glasses, eyes on our untouched plates. Right. The appetizer. My eyes dart to it, widening. Pierce has already taken a few bites of his, though when he had time to, I don't even know.
"Is there anything wrong, miss?" the waiter asks, all innocent concern.
I duck my head so he won't notice my deepened blush.
"Yes, Bonnie, are you still hungry?" Pierce catches my eye, and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to kick him under the table.
"It's great, thank you," I murmur, not daring to breathe again until the waiter turns to leave us with our replenished water glasses. Only then do I snatch my fork and take a stab at the plate in an effort to distract myself.
Somehow, I need to survive the rest of this dinner . . .
5
"Thank you again for joining me," Pierce says as he shrugs on his overcoat. We're in the lobby downstairs, having finally finished the dessert course.
My stomach still feels half empty, probably because I had trouble eating anything with all the sideways comments and underhanded dirty jokes Pierce kept throwing my way. Anytime I finally started to relax and enjoy myself, he'd make sure to trail a finger up my inner thigh, or lean over and ask if the steak we were both having went well with my first course of cum. It's like he couldn't stand to sit at a table with a non-blushing girl for more than ten seconds at a time.
That, or he really enjoyed making me turn bright red in embarrassment. I'm leaning toward that latter theory.
But I notice him slip the coat check girl a fat wad of cash as she helps me into my coat, so maybe he's not an entirely horrible person after all? After my years working at the diner, I know by now that you can't judge a book by its cover—only by its willingness to tip the help.
The nicest looking people stiff me entirely on a bill, leaving 10 cent tips on a $75 check. And then the grumpiest seeming assholes will leave me a 30% tip with a smiley face drawn in the margins. You never know.
So, against my better judgment, when Pierce rests his hand on my lower back and steers me outside, I follow him to his car. Sure, along the way I gulp a few deep lungfuls of fresh air, but that's only to gather my courage. Because this is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for.
It's time to lose my V-card, once and for all.
No limo this time. Just his personal car, a BMW, because of course it is. He holds the door for me, a true gentleman to the last. But service has taught me not to take that too seriously, either.
I slide into the front seat and perch on the edge of the leather seats like I'm about to drive a gauntlet. I do have to admit, though, his BMW is comfy as hell on the inside.
Pierce sl
ides into the driver's seat, and I force myself to ease back in my seat and strap on my belt. No sense getting so worked up yet. We have to drive to his place first.
“So, did you enjoy sucking my cock, Bonnie?” he asks as he turns the key. Like he’s asking about the weather.
I squirm in my seat. “Yes, sir.”
He smiles. “Good.”
Maybe he wants to fuck me in this car. The seats are roomy enough, and all the windows except the windshield are tinted. If we pulled into an alley, no one would notice.
Then again, that might go against his "I want to savor the fine meal" policy.
But to my shock, a moment later, he pulls onto the road, then glances at me. "Where do you live?"
Panic seizes me. All I can picture is Erin's face. Erin eyeballing me as I lead this handsome, way-too-well-dressed man into the closet I call my bedroom. Erin listening through our parchment-thin walls as we fuck, and he talks about taking my virginity . . .
I tell him the cross streets, then panic as he shifts the car into motion and starts to drive. Shit. "I can't do anything at my place though," I blurt, cheeks red all over again. "I . . . I have a roommate. Uh . . . She's very Catholic." Double shit. I'm babbling. But hey, technically she is Irish Catholic, even if she doesn't so much practice anymore . . .
And I can't exactly admit the real problem. Which is that I'd die if anyone found out I was doing this. Selling myself. Selling my virginity, which all of my friends think I've long since lost anyway.
But Pierce just laughs, loudly. "Relax, Bonnie. I only want to take you home." His pale blue eyes catch mine, twinkling with mirth as he shifts lanes. "Well, okay. I want to do more than that. But tonight I'm only dropping you off."
"Why?" I blurt. Then I realize with a mental kick how rude that sounds. I clear my throat. "I mean, why wait? Don't you want to, you know . . . I trail off, and he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish. I clear my throat again, harder. "Don't you want to fuck me?"
"Oh, I very much want to fuck you, Bonnie." The simple sincerity in his voice makes me hot all over, but especially between the thighs. His eyes hold onto mine for a long moment before they flash back to the road. "But I've got to say, you aren't what I expected."
Almost unconsciously, I touch a hand to my hair. "What do you mean?" Am I unattractive compared to my pictures? But, no, I dolled myself up today. What the heck?
"You make such a big deal about never having had sex before," he replies, and I relax slightly. But only slightly. So he still finds me hot, but suspicious. Great. "You talk about being a virgin, and yet, you seem so eager for me to fuck you right here and now. Almost desperate."
Those eyes are so damn mesmerizing. I can't look away, even though I feel my body tensing with nerves. Thankfully, he has to look at the road again soon, and I take a moment to catch my breath. "I . . ." I shake my head, force myself out of the trance. "I just want to get this over with. It's business, right? You pay me, I give you what you want. End of story."
"What if I don't want this to be over yet?" he counters, and I blink in surprise. "I told you, Bonnie. I want to savor this meal." He reaches across the gear shift and runs his palm along my thigh. Every muscle in my body tenses, every nerve ending starts to fire on high. "I want you to enjoy this as much as I do," he says, his voice a low, throaty growl, and I can scarcely think straight for the ache in my groin.
I want him. Bad. But fuck if I'm going to let on. He's about a million miles too cocky as it is. "We had an agreement," I say, my voice forced, businesslike. "You pay me, you fuck me, and we part ways. That's what we agreed."
Shit. What if he's been playing me all along? What if he doesn't intend to pay me at all, or what if he wants to drag this out for ages, make me beg for it, make me suck him and fuck him over and over without giving me a cent? My palms tingle with sweat and I clench them to try and distract myself.
I need that money. It's the whole reason I got into this mess in the first place. He might think I'm some naive idiot because I'm virginal, but hell if I'm going to let him get away with using me for free. Especially after that blowjob.
Fucking hell, Bonnie, I scold myself. I gave him that for free. No wonder he wants to walk away now. He thinks I'll let him do the same with everything. Give him an inch and he wants to take a mile.
Granted, I enjoyed the fuck out of it, but that’s not the point.
I cross my arms over my chest, protective. "How do I know you're even sincere about this? You could be anyone. That waiter could've been a friend in on this gig."
I jolt against the seat belt as the car suddenly veers off the main drag. He pulls us onto the nearest side-street and whips into a parallel parking spot so fast I barely have time to catch my breath.
Shit. I've done it now. Pissed off this crazy guy I don't even know, all while I'm trapped in his car. I dig my hands into the seat belt, ready to throw it off and make a break for it if I need to.
He turns to face me, and his eyes blaze with heat, though the rest of his expression remains calm. Is he angry, or just annoyed that a business deal is going sour? I can’t read him yet.
"When did I ever give you reason to doubt me, Bonnie?" he asks, his voice calm and even. “Our agreement never stipulated a timeline.”
Even though there aren’t any cars passing by, and the streetlights on this side-street are dimmer than usual, there’s enough light from the illuminated sign above a closed corner store for me to make out his flashing eyes. It lights the side of his face, highlighting the sharp curve of his cheekbone as he faces me.
I remind myself that I have just as much of a right to be worried as he does. “No, we didn’t,” I agree, “But our agreement never stipulated that I’d give you a free blowjob in public, either.” My face flames as I say that out loud, but to judge by the faint curve of his mouth, he enjoys hearing me say it.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” He leans in closer. “I hated to put a damper on the mood just to bring up contractual obligations.”
I set my jaw firmly. “Well, I should’ve . . . I mean . . . How do I know you’re for real about this? That you aren’t just . . .”
“Taking what I want for free?” he asks, and his breath ghosts across my lips. He’s closed the gap between us. Or maybe I did. I think I’m leaning toward him. I tighten my muscles, force myself to grip the seat belt, the edges digging into my palms to keep me thinking straight.
“Exactly. It’s nothing personal, Pierce. It’s business.”
“Oh, I agree.” His fingertips skim my cheek, and the feeling of his rough skin against mine makes me jolt in surprise. I hadn’t seen him reach for me until I felt his hot skin against my cheek. He traces the edge of my jawline, and every fiber in my body urges me to lean closer to him, to fall into those soft, sharply curved lips. His smile looks deadly, but I want him to devour me anyway. “But that’s something you should learn about me, Bonnie.”
His eyes drift over my body, and I find mine doing the same, studying the outline of his muscular chest through his dress shirt, and the thick bulge in his pants. I can still remember the way he tastes, salt and heat, and the way he felt in my mouth, solid muscle but velvety smooth all at once, thrusting into my throat as he claimed my mouth for his own. My heart speeds up.
“In business,” he adds, “I always get what I want.”
His hand drips down my neck, his fingers curving around the back of my neck to pull me closer to him, and there’s no use fighting this. I am putty in his hands, his to control. His mouth pauses an inch from mine and I’m nearly panting with effort at holding myself back. I want nothing more than to close the breath of a gap between us and crush my mouth to his, kiss him, let him taste me, claim me.
But to judge by the soft hiss of breath that he intakes, and the way his eyes flash when I look back up, he’s affected too. He wants me. Bad.
“I respect your forthrightness, though, Bonnie. You know what you want too.” He’s only smirking a little bit as he says that,
but I narrow my eyes anyway. Damn him. He knows just how hot he makes me, and he’s enjoying it. “So, fine. If this is what you want, we can do this, right here.” His hand leaves my neck, slides down my body to grasp my tits through my shirt. His thumb finds my nipple and massages it in slow circles, until it starts to harden beneath his touch. “Beg me to do it, and I’ll fuck you until you’re screaming.”
My eyes dart past him, to the car windows and the relatively deserted street beyond. But there are still lights, still the occasional taxi rolling past, light on, searching for fares. So exposed . . .
More exposed than I was on a rooftop crouching under his dining table? I remind myself.
“I’ll send you the money right now, and you can give up your virginity to me right here on this side street. Is that what you want?”
I grimace, debating. I do want the money. But this is starting to feel too familiar. Too much like the bleachers at prom, on a hard floor in a dingy dress, no preparation, no planning ahead . . .
Then again, Pierce isn’t anything like my meek prom date. He’ll make it last no matter where we are, of that much I’m sure.
Like he’s reading my mind, he drops his hands to my waist, then over my hips, one grasping my ass, hard enough that it hurts. I gasp faintly. “I would have thought you’d want it to be special. You waited this long, after all. And I’m paying you quite a sum.” The hand gripping my ass drops to the hem of my dress, then slips beneath it. His rough hands glide up my bare skin, and I can hardly think from the red hot flames that his touch sends throughout my body. “But maybe you’re sick of waiting,” he breathes against my mouth, his lips so fucking close to mine. “Maybe you just want to get this over with. You want my cock inside you, don’t you, Bonnie? You want me to claim you, right now. Maybe I’ll give you what you want, then.”
Best of Penny Wylder: Virgin Romance Page 22
