by Dylann Crush
Which he did, but not how I expected.
“Can I kiss your pussy?”
I think I found my future husband.
That’s how a man should ask to kiss you. The guys I dated were okay at sex, and a few even went down on me, but I found it was like asking them to move a mountain just to lick my clit.
“Yes. Open-mouthed kisses, right?”
I couldn’t see him, but I swear I heard him smirk.
“With so much tongue, I promise.”
“Okay, let me clear a space to lie down.” I turned to feel around on the ground when I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“Just bend over. On your knees and elbows.”
I would definitely propose to him by the end of the night. I may not have known his name, but I was going put a ring on him. Sorry ladies, he’s mine.
“Yes, sir.” He couldn’t see, but I saluted him.
Before he could say another word, I had moved onto my elbows with my ass facing him. At least, I hoped it was facing him.
A shiver went up my back as his hand caressed my ass cheek. He moved his palm up and down until he had my skirt lifted. I wished I had worn nothing underneath, but I wore red tights and white cotton panties.
I wanted to be comfortable tonight, not to mention that I really didn’t imagine I’d be eaten out by a hot stranger.
It didn’t seem to deter him as I felt a yank on my tights. He spent a moment taking off my shoes before he pulled my tights and undies off. I made sure to lift my legs to help.
I wasn’t a monster. A lady must always help a gentleman when orgasms are on the line.
A coolness landed between my thighs as my clothes disappeared.
A thought popped into my head. He would lick me between my legs, and I’d never know what he looked like. That idea made me wetter.
I felt something touch the edge of my soaked lip, near my clit. It could be his finger or his tongue. The sensation felt heightened. Just the slightest touch was incredible.
I clenched my jaw and sucked in a breath. I wanted more, but he was going agonizingly slow.
“You’re so wet.” His warm breath tickled my thighs.
Then I felt it. His tongue. And he did some wicked things with it.
My hips swayed, and I was greedy for more.
“You need to hold still,” he said so matter-of-factly that I wondered if this affected him at all.
“Yes, sir.” I widened my legs, hoping to help him any way I could.
I felt him smile against my ass cheek as he nipped a little on my flesh. All the things he did were intense, and I didn’t want him to stop. And once he sucked on my clit, everything else faded away.
When he pushed two fingers into my core, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I exploded.
“I’m about to come,” I warned him, not that he didn’t already suspect.
“Can I fuck you?” I heard him ask between gasps.
I couldn’t say yes fast enough. I had wanted his cock inside me since I first felt it.
“Yes. Please.”
His fingers disappeared, and I was so close to going over the edge, I looked around in a daze. But then I felt his tip rub against my core, and it was incredible. But nothing compared to when he pushed inside. Slowly at first, but then I shifted, as I wasn’t one for being still.
“You’re so tight. Goddamn, you feel amazing.”
The vibration from his deep voice mixed with his cock and I was flung over the edge. My head flew back as I cried out. I said words, many words. Did they make sense? Probably not.
He was fucking me hard, which only made the orgasm last longer.
It was at this point I wanted to see. I was desperate for the faintest light to shine on his face. To watch his lips curl in desire and his gaze fill with lust.
Would he watch as his cock slid in and out of my pussy? Would he look over to me, wanting to kiss me, but couldn’t?
I reached between my legs as his hips kept bumping into me and played with my clit.
My fingers slipped around my soaked lips, and it was hard to focus as his cock ground into me. I had never felt a man so big. And it wasn’t just the size that made it difficult not to turn into a wet, convulsing mess as he rode me. It’s the spot he hit, which hadn’t been touched by a cock before. Either I had sex with many men who didn’t understand what they were doing, or this guy had a wonder dick.
And I was the lucky lady who got to play with his cock of awe tonight. Thanks, Santa.
I flicked my clit a few times, and another massive climax erupted.
But this time, my words made sense.
“I’m coming. That’s it, Wonder Dick. Fuck me back to the North Pole.”
“Wonder what? Uh, shit . . . I’m coming.”
The pounding slowed as he ground into me. I felt him shudder and heard some grunts, but my core was still riding that delicious high he gave me. The lights could have turned on and the door swung opened, but I wouldn’t have noticed.
Slowly I came down from the clouds. I heard his breathing, which was as rapid as my own. Then I felt him pull out.
That was it. No more beautiful, perfect, nothing-compares orgasms. Could I recreate this with my dildo back home? Doubtful.
It wouldn’t be the same. This guy had something special hanging between his legs. If I couldn’t have him, then I hoped he used it for a good cause. The women who only had experienced lousy lays needed him most.
“Did you call me Wonder Dick?”
5
Monty
I wiped my brow after the mind-blowing sex I had with a woman who didn’t even know what I looked like. There was one fantasy I had when I was younger where I had sex with a woman through a hole in the fence. I didn’t know what she looked like and she didn’t know what I looked like, but I slipped my cock through, and wham, sexy times.
This was as close as I would ever get to that fantasy. Not that I wanted to reenact the dream because . . . splinters.
Let me say, for the record, what I did with this woman in a dark closet was a hundred times hotter, sexier, crazier—in a marvelous way, and splinter-free—than the imaginary fence sex.
“I have no control over what comes out of my mouth when there’s a dick inside me. And besides, it’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“You judging me about calling you Wonder Dick when you, in fact, have a wonder dick.”
I chuckled, moving off my knees and sitting on the floor. My knees creaked, and I felt like I had just run a marathon, but the smile wouldn’t leave my face.
“You think so? It wasn’t too big for you? I worry about that sometimes. The size . . .”
“Oh. My. God. Do you hear yourself right now?” I heard her move and reclined back to rest on my elbows when I felt her curl up next to me. “Oh dear, I hope I didn’t cause too many orgasms with my gargantuan dick!” she said in a cartoonish tone.
My head fell back as laughter erupted. This woman. From what I saw when she first entered, she was beautiful, sexy as hell, and such a smart ass.
“I hope that means you liked it. Because I liked it.”
There was silence. I knew she was still there as I felt her breath on my chest. “What’s wrong?”
Shit. Maybe she felt pressured to have sex with me. That’s the last thing I wanted her to think. I knew I shouldn’t have told her I was naked.
“I’m trying real hard to be good right now.” Her words felt forced, like she was spitting them out through clenched teeth.
Oh no. I had taken it too far. I rubbed my brow and sat up.
“Look, I never meant to—”
“There’s something you should know about me. I am not sweet. That’s my sister. She’ll help people, even her shit bag boyfriend. But I am quite the opposite.”
“Okay . . .”
Was she going to beat me up? Was that what she was trying to say? All because I had sex with her and she didn’t want to. I wouldn’t blame her.
“And h
ere you are, trapped in a closet with me, naked—”
I cut her off, “I want to clarify that I never ever thought or expected you to have sex—”
“Let me finish.”
I nodded. “Right. Yes.”
“You’re naked and have muscles that have muscles on top of even more muscles. Then your behemoth-sized dick shows up, and I thought jackpot. Like I won sex gold. That Santa came early and dropped a candy cane dick in my lap.”
At this point I didn’t know whether to laugh or start clawing my way out of the room.
“And after several top-notch orgasms, you act all innocent. Like somehow colossal dicks are terrible, and you hoped I liked it. Can I ask you a serious question, and you promise you won’t get mad?”
I felt sweet relief that she hadn’t felt pressured to have sex. She could ask me anything she wanted to.
“Ask away.”
“Are you over eighteen? And if you are, are you a virgin?”
I blinked a few times. “Yes and no.” I said.
“So, you’re over eighteen?”
“Yes. Are you?”
Oh no, that’s what this was about. She’s not of age. Now I felt extra creepy.
“I’m thirty. And you?”
“Twenty-eight. And no, not a virgin.” I said just to clarify in case she had any questions on that matter.
“I didn’t think you were based on your expertise between my legs.”
“Is that a bad thing? How I act all innocent, because I promise you, my thoughts are anything but innocent.” I was wiggling my brows, but, as usual, she couldn’t see.
“So, you planned this? You thought about it the moment I walked in? Or maybe that story about your brother locking you in here was a lie, and you overheard me discuss ghosts with my sister and pretended to be one to lure me in here?”
I was getting why she said she wasn’t the sweet one.
“That was my plan the whole time. I knew if I wrapped my dick up like a candy cane, you’d be so overcome that you’d fall to your knees.”
“You’re a genius. I did just that. You must know me so well. You probably even know my name.”
“But if I tell you your own name, then you’ll know that I know, and it ruins the illusion.” I said hoping she took the hint that I wanted to know her name.
“That made no sense.” She leaned in and peppered a few kisses on my chest. For someone who swore she wasn’t sweet, that was lovely.
“It’s Julia.”
I grinned. Julia.
“I like it. And I’m—”
As I was about to tell her my name, there was a noise. It came from the small door Julia had entered through earlier.
“Oh my God, I think someone’s there.”
Julia pulled away, and I heard her get up. After a moment, she banged on the wall and yelled for help.
I didn’t join her as I was naked. As much as I would like to be rescued, I didn’t really want to flash people. Julia kept up the banging as I moved behind the boxes where I hid before.
There was a muffled response, “Julia?”
“Laura? Help, I’m stuck in here.”
After a moment, the door opened, and light shone in. I had trouble seeing, so I blocked the light with my hand.
Julia stood there, her hair more mussed than before, which made me smile. Another woman stood on the other side of the door but with the angle of where I was hidden, I couldn’t see her face.
Julia turned toward me and said, “I’ll go find a coat or something for you to put on. I’ll be back.”
She walked through the door and it shut, coating me in darkness once more.
I stepped out from behind the boxes, and as I did, another door opened. This time it was James. He stood there with a frown on his face and my clothes in his hand.
“Sorry, Monty. Here are your clothes. We have to go.”
“It’s about time you realized it was a terrible idea to have me streak.”
I grabbed the clothes he threw at me and stumbled, putting them on. Once I got my tie somewhat straight, I glanced at the ground. Julia’s panties and tights were there. I smirked and picked them up, stuffing them inside my jacket pocket.
“Something’s come up, and we can’t go through with the plan of having you streak,” he said with a frown. “You’re looking happy for a man who’s been stuck in a dark closet, naked.”
“Just happy to be out and not having to run around here naked for entertainment,” I said as the cooler air hit my face.
I stepped into the hallway, about to turn toward the coat check, knowing Julia would be there.
Ready for her to see all of me.
Also By Elizabeth Lynx
Want to read more about this story? You can find out what happened to Monty and Julia in their upcoming book Surprising the Billionaire with a Baby.
Grab Ruining the Billionaire’s Wedding for FREE when you sign up for Elizabeth Lynx’s newsletter. It’s the story about Monty’s brother, Rock.
About Elizabeth Lynx
Elizabeth Lynx writes rom-coms with a lot of steam and characters that cause you to laugh-out-loud. She has worn many hats in life: mother, wife, photographer, graphic designer, executive assistant, and used to print pictures for the White House. For the past several years, she’s put down on paper all the crazy voices in her head.
Follow Elizabeth Lynx on Goodreads, BookBub, on Facebook, or in her reader group, SWIM Meet.
Part XI
Wrapped Up with You
Claire Marti
About… Wrapped Up with You
When a cocky financial genius is forced to partner with his snarky office rival to land a prestigious new client, nothing goes as planned. At work, they ignore each other, but at the Jingle Balls ball, their unexpected chemistry changes the game. Will their secret holiday hook-up ruin the deal or is it the start of a deeper connection?
1
Rafael Cruz strode down the bright white hallway toward his boss’s office, brainstorming about the critical evening ahead. His boss had booked an entire table at the Jingle Balls ball at Rancho Valencia, one of the fanciest resorts in North San Diego County. Not only was the firm’s contribution helping benefit a testicular cancer awareness nonprofit, but tonight, Rafael had the opportunity to land not one, but two new clients for Trident Wealth Consultants.
His lips curved up––nothing like combining a good cause with his ambition. He’d played an instrumental role in convincing two of the firm’s major clients, the Harmons and Blakes, to invite their ultra-wealthy friends who were considering a new wealth management team. After all, he’d been managing their fortunes for a few years now and they were thrilled with his performance. Next year when MacDonald retired, he’d be first in line to run the business.
After a triumphant night, he had an excellent weekend planned to meet a few buddies to surf Torrey Pines in the morning plus a date with the hot little brunette he’d met in line at his favorite lunch spot yesterday. Life was pretty damn perfect.
His ebullient mood burst when he saw her lurking in front of MacDonald’s closed office door. Ever since Ms. Phoebe Hollingsworth––seriously, could she have a more British Lady of the Manor name?––had started working at his firm three months ago, she’d rubbed him the wrong way. With her conservative straight-laced dresses, severe bun, and glasses, she looked like she belonged in the stacks of an ancient university, not in a Southern California wealth management firm. Did the woman even notice the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the pristine blue sky or did she keep her nose buried in work 24/7?
Hadn’t someone given her the memo that she lived in the land of sunshine, surfers, and casual wealth?
Since Ms. Ice Queen hadn’t noticed him yet, he raked his gaze from the top of her burnished golden-red updo, down the severe lines of her white-collared gray sheath dress, along with––whoa. How had he never noticed her mile-long legs before? Fire-engine red pumps with pointed toes, a sexy low side cut, and skinny high he
els showcased defined calves. Had she always worn killer shoes like that? Totally not the low-heeled sensible shoes he’d expected to match her prim nun’s outfit.
Most of the time, he found that the second she started speaking, her cool, pompous voice grated on him, and he’d simply tune her out. He didn’t have time to be spoken down to––his focus in the office was on business. But, damn, those shoes instantly created the vision of her digging them into his back as he wrapped those long legs around his waist. His sucked in a breath and the back of his neck heated.
Where the hell had that image come from? He shook his head. No way in hell was this snooty woman usurping his role at Trident. Even though she was new to the company, she’d brought in enough big clients and was showing impressive enough returns to have turned the heads of everyone, especially his boss’. It was clear she was his main competition for the promotion.
Her head lifted. “What are you doing here?” Unusual silver-gray eyes froze him from behind her dark-framed glasses.
He gritted his teeth. “If you haven’t noticed, Ms. Hollingsworth, I work here.” He just couldn’t seem to call her by her first name, which was weird.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, everybody notices you, Mr. Cruz. I meant what are you doing here at Mr. MacDonald’s office? I’ve got a meeting with him in…” She flicked a glance at the sensible stainless-steel watch on her narrow wrist, “thirty seconds. So why don’t you flit off and come back later?”
Rafe counted to three before responding. Oh yes, this was why he’d never noticed her legs, much less her shoes. Because she couldn’t seem to speak to him without dripping condescension. Sarcasm was one of his own favorite forms of communication, but this woman elevated snark to a whole other level.
“Alright, Bitter Betty Table for One, dial it back. I’m meeting with MacDonald now. You must be confused.” He congratulated himself on his even, almost charming tone.