by Leda Swann
“You’ve already said you would let me go if you didn’t find anything. And you won’t find anything,” she added confidently.
“I won’t if I don’t look,” he replied, moving his hands to her thighs. The leggings were so tight on her that they left no room for any contraband, but he was going to make damn sure of that. Not because he wanted to run his hands over her tightly muscled thighs—that was merely a side benefit. He did not like being robbed, not at all. He just wished he knew what she had been after.
“Excuse me. Do you mind?” Her voice was choked.
He came to with a start, realizing exactly where his hands had been. He had been caressing her like a lover not like a body searcher. And hell, her panties were damp under his fingers. So damp her juices had leaked right through her leggings while he had been touching her.
His face burning he snatched his hands away as if he had been stung. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“On automatic pilot, huh?” she asked rather nastily. “Find your hands on a woman’s pussy and start stroking it without thinking?”
That was exactly what had happened, but he was damned if he was going to admit it. His search had made one thing clear to him—she was certainly not hiding anything in her panties. Nothing bar a hot, wet pussy that he would love to get his hands on. And into. He got to his feet again, standing eye to eye with her. “Take off your bra,” he ordered her brusquely, to hide his discomfiture.
“My bra?” Her face was as red as his felt.
“I was married once. I know that women hide things in their bra when they want to keep them safe.”
“No. I won’t.”
“Then take off your T-shirt if you prefer. I don’t mind either way. In fact,” he said with an exaggerated leer, “I’d rather you took off your T-shirt.”
“My T-shirt? You have got to be joking.”
“Nope. Either your T-shirt or your bra has got to go. Your choice.”
Her glare was colder than the howling wind outside. She reached under her T-shirt, unhooked her bra and drew the straps awkwardly over her shoulders. With an evil look at him, she tossed it on top of the rest of her clothes. “See. Nothing in it.”
Christmas trees on her socks, and a plain white sports bra under her black cat burglar clothes. An odd mix. She certainly hadn’t come here with seduction on her mind. A pity that. He would have enjoyed being seduced by her. “Not even a set of car keys?”
“I walked.”
His brain barely registered her answer. If her T-shirt with her bra on was tempting enough, her T-shirt without her bra on was way worse. It was hard not to stare openly at her breasts. Pert and full, they tempted his gaze. Only the sure prospect of being called a deviant yet again forced him to look away.
What to do with her now? She hadn’t stolen anything—yet. Clearly from lack of opportunity than from lack of motive. She had broken into his house when she had no business being here. Yet he was reluctant to call the police on her. After all, what harm has she done to him? And it was nearly Christmas, after all, a time that should be about peace and goodwill to all mankind. All womankind, too, even if they were cat burglars.
“So, now what?” she asked, mirroring his thoughts.
“Now,” he said, surprising even himself with the words that came out of his mouth, “you will come over here and kiss me.”
Bonny gasped. Of all the deviant ideas she had ever heard, this one took first prize. “K…kiss you? What on earth for?”
“So that I don’t call the police and ask them to take you away.”
“You said you would let me go if I hadn’t stolen anything. And I haven’t.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable without her bra under her T-shirt. Even if she could make a run for it at this last stage, she’d never be able to run far with her boobs bouncing around all over the place. If he called the cops, she’d have to chance it though, bare feet and all. Being a journalist was her life—she wasn’t going to have her dreams ruined by Robert Barron, of all people.
“You broke into my house. God knows how much the damage will be—”
“I didn’t break anything,” she protested. No way was Barron going to stick her with some fictitious bill for some nonexistent damage she hadn’t done to his precious damned house. “You left a window open.”
His eyes narrowed. “Which window?”
“The one in the bathroom next door.”
“You crawled through that tiny window without breaking anything?” His eyebrows rose. “You must be an impressive contortionist.”
“Gymnast,” she clarified. Ten years of gymnastic lessons hadn’t been entirely wasted on her. Of course, her mother would turn in her grave if she saw what use she was putting them to.
“You broke into my house,” he repeated. “I figure I deserve some compensation for that.”
“How about if I offer to leave right now and never come back again.” It was hopeful, she knew, but she couldn’t resist trying it. For whatever reason, he didn’t really want to call the cops on her or he would have done it long ago. Maybe Mr. Barron had a few secrets of his own hidden around his house that he didn’t want the cops to find. She would be sure to pay him another visit to see what she could find—only she would make sure he was out of the country at the time, not just supposed to be at some damned fancy Christmas party. It was typical of her bad luck. If only he had stayed there for another half hour or so, she would have been gone before he had caught her.
“Not good enough.”
“So what do you want, then?”
“A kiss.”
She turned her head on its side and looked at him. Really looked at him. He wasn’t too bad, if you went for rumpled Italian suits and funky eyeglasses. His hands had certainly known what to do around a woman’s body. Her pussy was still wet from when he’d been groping her earlier. She should’ve stopped him earlier, she knew, but it had just felt so damn good. No man had gotten that close to her for months—not since Murray had run out on her with the blonde bimbo he worked with.
She’d like to bet that Barron was dynamite in the sack. Any man who could just about make her cream in her panties with a few distracted fondles, not even on her bare skin, had to be worth getting to know a little better. Especially when she shouldn’t have been standing there letting him touch her in the first place, but kneeing him in the groin and leaping down the stairs and out the front door instead.
“A kiss, huh?” She crossed her arms more firmly across her breasts to hide the peaking of her nipples. Damn it all, she wanted to kiss him. “How do I know you won’t kiss me and then turn around and call the cops after all?”
“You don’t.” His grin was as bright as a lit-up Christmas tree. “That adds to the spice of the deal.”
What the heck. She was young and single and trapped in the bedroom of a very hunky man, whatever his morals were like. And it was nearly Christmas. Mistletoe and all that. She might as well take her kisses where she could get them. They hadn’t exactly been thick on the ground since Murray had left. He’d been a lousy kisser anyway. A pretty lousy fuck, too, though that was beside the point. She wasn’t going to sleep with Barron—just kiss him and leave again.
“What the heck. It’s only a kiss.” Moving closer to him, she leaned into his body and reached up to his mouth with her own.
He smelled good. Better than good. Absolutely wonderful, in fact. He smelled like peppermint sticks and cinnamon cookies, like fruitcake with almond icing, like Christmas pudding soaked in brandy. It must’ve been some Christmas party he’d abandoned.
He even tasted like Christmas.
Better than Christmas.
His mouth was firm against hers as he kissed her softly, gently. She’d thought he would kiss her roughly, demand more from her than she wanted to give. Just the opposite. She wanted more than he was giving her. Deliberately she deepened the kiss, opening her mouth wide and inviting his tongue inside to explore her.
She leaned into him, her braless breasts pressing against his shirt. Her nipples were standing to attention for real now, so hard and sensitized that the slightest bit of friction sent waves of pleasure shooting through her whole body.
His hands were on her hips, drawing her body closer to his. Her T-shirt rode up, leaving a patch of bare skin at her waist, and his hands slid up to her waist, and then higher, under her T-shirt, until they were on her rib cage, just below her breasts.
He stayed there, hesitating. “Do you want me to touch your breasts?”
She should not want Robert Barron’s hands on her breasts, but she did. “Please,” she begged him, humiliated that she had to ask, but wanting his touch so badly she was willing to humble herself in front of him. Thrusting her breasts forward, she did not give him a chance to back away.
Her nipples were so hard that the brush of his knuckles against them made her jump.
“Do you like that?”
His hands moved to cup her breasts, squeezing them until she thought she would faint with pleasure. With no breath to answer him, all she could do was moan her acceptance.
She wanted more. A whole lot more. She wanted his hands back where they first had been when she started thinking naughty thoughts about him. Taking hold of one of his wrists, she tugged at it, moving it down off her breast.
Misunderstanding her at first, he took both his hands away and stepped back with an apology. “Hell, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said, moving his hand still lower and slipping it inside her leggings, inside her panties, until it was resting on her mound. “And don’t stop.”
He swallowed audibly. “Your pussy is bare. Shaved.”
“Waxed. Do you like it?”
“God, yes. I more than like it. You want me to keep touching you?”
His hand was warm against her skin. “Yes. I want you to keep touching me.” She wriggled against him, urging him to explore her between the legs, to touch her clit and stroke her pussy, to put his fingers into her and feel how wet she was for him. “I want you to take all my clothes off and strip-search me from top to toe. And then…” Her voice trailed off. Even with her eyes closed so she could not see his face, she wasn’t brave enough to put her fantasies into words. How could she possibly tell Robert Barron, multimillionaire property developer and darling of society, that she badly wanted him to fuck her?
“And then what?” he prompted her.
She couldn’t tell him. But maybe he could tell her. “What would you want then?” she asked slyly, stroking his chest through his white dress shirt. His chest was hard and muscled. Robert Barron was no soft-bodied, soft-living pussycat, but a panther on the prowl.
“Then I would want to lay you on my bed and kiss you all over. Every inch of you.”
His voice, combined with the soft strokes he was giving her clit, sent wave after wave of desire roiling through her body. Just a single lick of his tongue on her clit would be enough to make her come, she was so turned on. “That would be a good start,” she agreed breathlessly.
“Then when I have had enough of tasting your sweet body, I would like to take my cock and thrust it into your warm, wet pussy.” Pushing her panties out of the way, he thrust the tip of one finger inside her as he spoke.
His finger was nice enough, but she wanted his cock. She moved her hands down to his hips and stroked them over his groin. His cock was standing up thick and stiff inside his trousers, as hard as her pussy was wet. “It keeps getting better and better.”
“And thrust into you over and over again until we both can’t last another minute. Do you want that, too?”
She wanted to come in her panties just at the thought of it. “Yes, I want that, too,” she said, as she gave his cock a gentle squeeze through his pants.
He pushed first her leggings and then her panties over her hips until she was standing before him, wearing nothing but her little T-shirt.
His hands nudged her thighs apart. “Open your legs for me.”
Helpless to resist, she spread her legs wider until her cunt was on display for him.
Then he knelt in front of her and began to lick her naked pussy.
His tongue was magic. In and out he thrust his finger into her cunt as he licked and sucked at her clit until it was throbbing with desire.
“Robert, please, I can’t take any more.”
His head rose for a second. “Surprise yourself.” And then he was back again at her pussy, licking her again.
“I’m going to come. I can’t take it any longer.”
“Come then.” His voice was muffled in her cunt. “I’ll catch you.”
Her hands wound in his hair, tugging at it. If he kept licking her like that, he was going to make her come. Clenching her pussy muscles tightly together, she tried to stop the inevitable, but one last hard thrust of his finger and she was undone.
Waves of orgasm rode over her, leaving her gasping and helpless in the aftermath of pleasure.
“Did you like that?” His voice was the voice of a man who thoroughly expected to be complimented on his lovemaking abilities.
What had she done? Not only was she gasping and helpless, she was also thoroughly embarrassed. She’d just let a perfect stranger lick her clit and fuck her with his finger until she orgasmed right in front of him. And he hadn’t even taken off his clothes. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
He stood up and clasped her to him, grinding her wet pussy against his erection, leaving damp patches of her cunt juice on his expensive Italian suit. “That was just an appetizer. The rest of the meal is still to come.”
“The rest of the meal?” she asked weakly. Her knees were close to buckling under her. She hadn’t had a powerful orgasm like that since goodness knows when. “I don’t think I could take much more.”
“Surprise yourself again,” he said, throwing off his jacket and tie, kicking off his socks and shoes and stepping out of his trousers. “I intend to see just how much you can take and how far you can go. I’ll push you to your limit tonight. And then beyond it.”
Standing before her in nothing but his shirt and his boxers, he looked like he meant business. Though she had just been completely satisfied, she felt her pussy respond to him again. She wanted to taste him as he had just tasted her and make him wild for her.
“You’re wearing a few too many clothes still,” she said, her hands on the waistband of his boxers. “Can I take these off for you?”
“Please.”
She pushed them over his hips and stood back to admire his cock, proud in the night. “Mmmm, nice,” she murmured, running her hands over its silky softness. “Naughty and nice.” She went down to her knees, her face close to his groin. “Can I taste you?” she asked, her words a caress of breath against him.
“Yes.” His voice sounded slightly strangled.
She reached out with her tongue and placed the very tip of it on the head of his cock, teasing him. “You taste good.”
“Take me into your mouth and suck me.”
His cock was long and so thick she had to open her mouth wide to fit him inside.
Wanting at first only to give him a taste of the pleasure he had given her, she sucked on the head and licked him up and down the shaft of his cock.
His groans of pleasure egged her on. Her pussy was getting hotter as she sucked on him. His obvious pleasure was turning her on all over again.
“Enough,” he finally ground out between clenched teeth. Wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, she kept on sucking at him
, until he pulled back from her and helped her to her feet.
“Too much more of that and I’ll come in your mouth.”
“Surprise yourself,” she teased him. “Let yourself go.”
“I want to come in your pussy tonight,” he growled, as he steered her towards the bed.
There would be no complaints from her. Her pussy was aching to have his cock inside thrusting into her.
Together they tumbled on to the bed. He pulled her T-shirt over her head as she wrestled open the buttons on his shirt and dragged it over his shoulders.
Finally they were both naked.
“You don’t have to fuck me.”
She paused in the act of kissing down his breastbone. “What?”
“You don’t have to fuck me if you don’t want to. I won’t turn you in.”
“I know you won’t. If you wanted me arrested, you’d have called them as soon as you saw me.”
“You haven’t come to bed with me just to get away with whatever you were trying to steal?”
“I’m not a damned thief. I have come to bed with you, Robert Barron, because you made me cream just by licking me. Nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever made me do that before. Now I want the good hard fuck that you have been promising me. So don’t disappoint me now.”
That seemed to deal with his scruples. Pausing only to grab a condom out of his bedside drawer and pull it on, he came to lie over her, his cock nestled between her legs.
Positioning herself so he was at the entrance to her cunt, she spread her legs wide and then nudged him inside her.
He continued the thrust, pushing inside her until he was buried to the hilt in her cunt.
God, it felt good to have a man inside her. She clenched her pussy muscles around him as he withdrew, not wanting him to leave her, and then opened up again in welcome as he thrust back inside her.
Her orgasm was building up inside her again, stronger than before.
His cock pounded into her, faster and faster, taking her with him.
