by Raine Miller
She gasped in shock and her head whipped around to stare at him over her shoulder. Amusement shimmered in her dark, sultry gaze, and her lips eased up in a too provocative smile. “I thought you said no touching.”
He smirked right back at her. “I fucking changed my mind.” To prove his point, he pushed two long fingers into her weeping channel and smacked her ass with his free hand.
Another sharp gasp filled the air between them, followed by a low moan of pleasure when he caressed the warm splotch of color appearing on her smooth, pale bottom. “Rough play is going to cost you extra.”
“Then add it to my tab, because I plan to get my money’s worth,” he replied as he thrust his fingers deep inside her once more and spanked her other cheek. “I want to hear you scream your orgasm, Candy.”
She laid her head back down on the bed and closed her eyes, her fingers circling her clit, while her hips rocked back and forth on the long, thick fingers pumping in and out of her body, penetrating a bit deeper each time. He added another stinging slap to her tender backside and she started to pant. Two more swats to her rosy-hued flesh and her free hand clutched at the covers for leverage as her sex clamped and contracted around his fingers as her climaxed peaked.
And then she screamed, long and loud, until her voice turned hoarse and her body went lax, and Jesus Christ, he nearly came in his pants just because watching her was so fucking sexy and erotic.
With a soft, sated sigh, she rolled to her back in the middle of the bed, her slender legs still splayed so he could see her pink, swollen and oh-so-inviting pussy. Her half-lidded gaze lowered to the monstrous erection still confined in his slacks, and she reached up and untied the halter straps from behind her neck, then lowered the two panels of fabric to her waist, exposing her full breasts and the enticing, hardened beads of her nipples to his avid gaze.
Biting her lower lip, she took her breasts in her hands and squeezed them together, clearly tempting him by her brazen, seductive display. “Don’t you want me?” she asked huskily.
He took in the chin-length blonde hair, the unfamiliar green eyes, and red stained lips that was all wrong, despite the fact that his body felt otherwise. “I want my wife,” he said, unable to ignore the truth of that statement.
The look in her eyes softened at his words, but she didn’t stop her attempts to sway him. “Well, she’s not here and surely there’s something you’ve fantasized about doing to her, but you thought maybe she’d be too shocked to agree?”
“Lately, she’s been pretty adventurous and daring,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin as he watched her play with her breasts. “But yeah, there is one thing I’ve thought about . . .”
“Here’s your chance to do it,” she said, a challenging gleam in her eyes.
In a flash, he was on the bed and kneeling astride her stomach, quickly working the button and zipper on his pants to free his cock before he changed his mind about what he was about to reveal. “I want to fuck your tits.”
Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again, though her eyes remained wide and startled by his very kinky request.
He chuckled, the sound low and deep and completely depraved as he shoved his pants down to his hips, released his shaft, and began stroking the hard, hot length in his palm while she watched. “What? Is that too shocking for you, Candy?”
She quickly recovered and lifted her chin in a show of confidence. “Of course not. In fact, there’s lubrication in my purse if you need it. I always come prepared, for anything.”
He raised a brow at her sassy reply, but said nothing as he reached over to the night stand, opened her small purse, and retrieved the lube that no working girl would ever leave home without. He squirted a line of the slippery substance between her breasts and smeared it around until he was assured a smooth, slick ride.
“Press your tits tight together so I can fuck them,” he ordered gruffly, unable to deny the excitement spiking through him as she immediately obeyed. Taking his cock in hand, he inserted the engorged head between her plumped up breasts and pushed his hips forward, sliding into . . . heaven.
He groaned and shuddered as he pulled back, then surged in again. “Holy hell,” he uttered on a breath, his eyes closing for a moment as he tried to process just how good it felt to have his dick cocooned in such softness and warmth.
“Don’t stop now,” she teased, rubbing her breasts together so that she created another layer of sensation along his enveloped cock.
He opened his eyes, met her beguiling gaze, and gave into the need pounding through him. Leaning over her for a better thrusting angle, he grabbed onto the headboard and began to piston his hips — slowly at first, then gradually picking up the pace until he’d created a heated friction that short circuited his brain.
Forcing himself to hold back, he looked down, so incredibly turned on by the erotic sight of his cock burrowing between her lush cleavage and equally satisfied by just how aroused this scenario was making her, too. Her face was flushed, and she arched her back to accommodate his steady thrusts, keeping her breasts squeezed tight together. She pinched her elongated nipples, moaned oh-so-softly, and he lost it completely.
He growled deep in his throat as his orgasm slammed into him and he came hot and hard, his rigid cock pulsing, throbbing, while his essence splashed across her chest and throat in hot, sticky torrent.
By the time the last shock waves died away, he was gasping for breath. He sat back on her stomach, trying to recover from the mind-blowing experience.
“Was it good?” she asked, her tone deliciously smug.
“You know it was.” Unable to stop himself, he reached out and trailed a finger through the milky drops of semen on her skin. “Do you know what it’s called when a man comes on a woman’s chest and throat?”
She arched a curious brow. “No, what?”
He gave her a wicked smile. “A pearl necklace.” He dragged that same finger, now slick with his release, along her bottom lip, then boldly pushed it into her mouth.
“Umm.” Meeting his gaze, she swirled her tongue around his finger, brazenly licking and sucking away the taste of him. “I love pearls,” she said huskily, once he withdrew his finger from her warm, wet mouth.
“My wife is very fond of them, as well.”
As soon as the intimate words were out, as soon as those green eyes staring up at him softened with emotion, a wealth of guilt crashed over him, jolting him right out of the fantasy. Reality rudely intruded, and those same insecurities that had driven him to shut out his wife the night before he’d left town suddenly overwhelmed him all over again. His chest tightened, and needing distance to regain his composure, he moved off her and headed into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind him.
He turned on the shower, and as steam began to fill the spacious area he stripped off the rest of his clothes, then stepped beneath the hot spray, letting the water drench his hair and sluice down his body. A moment later, the door opened and through the clear glass cubicle he watched Jillian tentatively walk inside the bathroom.
She’d stripped away every trace of Candy. The blonde wig was gone, allowing her beautiful, dark brown hair to tumble freely around her shoulders. She’d removed those green contacts, wiped away the red lipstick, and taken off her sexy call girl clothes. She was as naked as he was, and as she quietly stepped into the shower with him and lifted her gaze to his, the renewed fortitude in her sky blue eyes twisted his stomach into a gigantic knot of uncertainty.
After a week of small talk on the phone that skirted the underlying issue between them, why had she shown up now? The question bounced around in his head, dredging up answers that played into his deepest, most basic fears. What if she’d flown all the way to New York for one last fun sexcapade before asking for a divorce so she could do whatever the hell she wanted without ever having to ask him? What if she’d decided that she liked being independent and didn’t need him anymore?
His hands clenched into fists
at his sides, and he knew his expression reflected the anguish and unease swirling inside of him. He’d always done an impeccable job of suppressing those too-vulnerable weaknesses from his wife, but when he was faced with the very real possibility of losing her, he found it impossible to conceal his emotional turmoil.
She saw it, too. Her gaze softened and she closed the distance between them so she was only inches away, the spray from the shower getting her wet, too. “Dean, we need to talk,” she said, her words gentle, yet undeniably determined.
Not ready to face the inevitable, he did the one thing he knew would stall the discussion to come, coward that he was. Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through her damp hair, tipped her head back, and crushed his mouth to hers. Her lips parted on a gasp of surprise, and he took full advantage, thrusting his tongue deep inside while backing her up against the cool tiled wall and pressing their bodies tight together.
Much to his relief, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her mouth giving and taking with equal measure. He couldn’t get enough of her, his need and hunger so great it threatened to engulf him and leave him drowning.
He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face against the sweet curve of her neck as the shower spray pummeled his back. He was panting for breath, his aching, throbbing cock pressing insistently against her soft stomach. “Jillian . . .” He groaned her name, uncaring of how desperate his voice had become. “I need to be inside of you. I need to be a part of you. Please.” It wasn’t a demand, but a request, one he needed her to acknowledge and accept on her own terms.
“Yes,” she whispered.
As soon as the word was out of her mouth he pulled her out of the shower, leaving the water running in his haste, and had her flat on her back on the bed within thirty seconds. His slick, wet body moved over hers, and she automatically spread her legs for him, allowing him to slide inside of her, all the way to the hilt, in one smooth, driving thrust. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched beneath him, the scrape of her nails across his back urging him to move.
He wanted to go slow. Wanted to make this last. Wanted to make love to her and be soft and tender and romantic. But she knew what he needed the most, knew his mind and body and what was in the deepest recesses of his soul. No matter the issues between the two of them, no matter the power struggle outside of the bedroom, here, beneath him, she was willing to submit to his every desire, and that knowledge slayed and humbled him.
“Take me harder, Dean,” she said huskily as her hands skimmed down the slope of his back to clutch his ass in an attempt increase the pace of his thrusts. “Take me deeper.”
Ahh, fuck. She knew exactly how to appeal to his darker, more dominant side, knew exactly what to do to engage him and he was helpless to resist her efforts. Grasping her wrists, he stretched her arms above her head and restrained her hands by linking their fingers together, providing him with the ultimate control he craved, and allowing him complete and primitive possession of her body and pleasure.
He flexed his hips, tunneling into her faster, forging deeper with every demanding, ruthless stroke and fucking her like a force of nature. With a helpless, unraveling moan, her head rolled back, her eyes closed, and he felt those internal contractions begin to flutter around his cock, milking his shaft with an incredible liquid warmth.
“Look at me,” he ordered gruffly, needing that connection with her.
With effort, Jillian’s eyes opened once again, the heat and adoration in the depths of her gaze his final undoing. Her fingers tightened around his as if she needed the anchor as she tumbled over the edge of her orgasm and came apart for him with a soft cry of pleasure, while he continued to pound into her until his own searing release scorched through him, leaving him spent, wasted, and his emotions scraped raw.
He moved off her, and with a content sigh she snuggled against his chest, soft, warm, and sated. And that’s how he planned to keep her, all night long, because come the morning there would be no avoiding the conversation she’d come all the way to New York to have with him.
CHAPTER 7
Jillian woke up alone in the big, king-sized bed she’d shared with her husband last night, not surprised, but definitely disappointed, to find him gone. She reached out and touched the pillow beside hers, hating that Dean found it necessary to put distance between them this morning when they’d shared so much physically and emotionally the evening before.
There hadn’t been much of an opportunity to talk during the course of the night, not when Dean had made it a point to keep her hands and mouth very busy whenever he thought she was going to broach the subject of her working. And because he was a master at knowing exactly what turned her on, his stall tactics had worked much too well.
She exhaled a frustrated stream of breath. How long did he intend to evade the huge disagreement still hanging over them like a dark cloud? It didn’t matter, because she had every intention of confronting Dean and getting it all out into the open. He couldn’t avoid her forever, and wherever he’d disappeared to, he’d eventually have to return. As far as she was concerned, they weren’t leaving New York until they’d resolved their issues and they came to an understanding.
With a shake of her head, she got up and padded into the bathroom and used the facilities. Realizing she only had last night’s clothes with her, she slipped into the plush white robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door, secured the sash, then combed the tangles from her hair and brushed her teeth. She’d left her luggage with the concierge when she’d arrived at the hotel yesterday afternoon, and she needed to call the front desk to have it delivered so she’d have something to wear for the day other than the skimpy outfit she’d worn to seduce her husband down in the bar.
The thought of how thoroughly she’d surprised Dean made her smile.
The entire week without Dean had been long and miserable. She always missed him when he was away on a business trip, but their evening phone conversations had always been warm, fun, and sometimes very sexy. This time, they’d been cool, polite, and abrupt, and with each day that passed she could feel that chasm deepening between them, until she feared they might not be able to get past the conflict that had put them at a mutual stand-off.
Then, two days ago, she’d been down in their playroom, thinking of how far they’d come in just a few months, how much closer they’d grown emotionally and physically, all because she’d been open and honest about wanting to heat up their sex lives, and Dean allowing himself to embrace those darker impulses he’d suppressed for way too long.
On a whim, she’d reached into the decorative crystal vase she’d bought for them to use as a place where they could write down and share their secret, provocative fantasies, to use whenever they needed inspiration, and withdrew a folded piece of paper. When she read Dean’s bold handwriting and the sexy scenario he’d divulged — being seduced by a call girl at a bar — she took it as a sign of fate of what she needed to do to break the ice between them and hopefully put things back on track again.
Last night’s seduction had been a huge success, but unfortunately they were no closer to a resolution than when he’d left for his business trip a week ago.
Figuring she’d camp out in the suite until he returned from wherever he’d gone, she opened the master bedroom door and headed into the adjoining living room. She came to an abrupt stop when she saw Dean sitting at the dining table, going through messages on his phone while eating a plate filled with eggs, bacon, and hash browns.
Freshly showered and shaved, and wearing a tan t-shirt and jeans, he looked breath-takingly gorgeous. “You’re here,” she said, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
His light gray eyes met hers, a hint of wariness flickering in the depths, the only indication that he was feeling slightly cautious about what the morning would bring. “You sound shocked.”
“I guess I am,” she admitted honestly as she walked toward the table, and him. “You wer
en’t in bed, so I just assumed you were gone.”
He shut off his phone and set it aside. “I’ve been here all morning, waiting for you to wake up so we can . . . talk.”
His tone was reluctant, but she gave him credit for taking the initiative. It gave her hope that was he more open to listening and understanding her needs in this marriage.
“I ordered up a few things for your breakfast,” he said, waving a hand toward the nearby room service cart.
“Thanks.” She poured coffee from a carafe, added cream and sugar, and smiled when she saw that he’d ordered her favorite breakfast staples: yogurt, granola, and mixed fruit. She set everything on the table, and sat down next to him.
“I can’t believe you flew all the way to New York to fulfill one of my fantasies,” he said, a hint of a smile touching the corner of his mouth right before he took a drink of his coffee.
“I know it was an extreme thing to do,” she said, mixing her yogurt and granola together. “But I didn’t want you to come home angry, and it just seemed like a good way to dissipate some of that tension between us and help us get back on track.”
He raised a dark, sable brow. “So, you think I can be mollified with hot sex?”
“You’re a man, aren’t you?” His smirk was all she needed to know that she’d made her point, so she continued. “My thought was, when we walk back into that house, I want us to be united in our marriage and my desire to work. The two go hand in hand, and we’re not leaving here until that happens.”
He frowned at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She swallowed a bite of sweet cantaloupe, preparing for battle. “It means, I expect you to compromise with me, so that when I go to work there aren’t any resentments between us.”
He slowly, silently, laid his fork down on his nearly empty plate. “So, you’ve already decided to take the job?”
“I have.” She lifted her chin determinedly. “I start on Wednesday.”