Good thing I’d booked a limo simply to drive around town. I needed to get her in it stat, and get her naked. Then, I’d regain some of the control I’d felt slipping away during all that talking.
12
Sophie
The gleaming white limo waited in the portico. The driver wore a black cap. A soft blue light glowed inside along the wood paneling of the bar where the champagne chilled.
That was all I saw in the three seconds after Ryan shut the limo door before he pounced on me.
There was no other way to describe it.
I was pinned on my back on the leather seat. His palms were planted firmly on either side of me, and he stared at me hungrily as sexy techno music played from a speaker near the bar.
“Are you still mad at me about the jeans?” I asked, my breathing coming quickly. The car began to hum as it pulled away from the hotel, vibrating gently as it rolled along the Strip in Sunday night traffic.
“Do I look mad?”
“A little.”
“Does it turn you on if I’m angry with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not mad. Because you have this,” he said, lowering his hand between my legs and fingering the hem of my pink skirt. “If you hadn’t brought it, I wouldn’t do what I’m about to do. I’d send you home hot and bothered. Instead, I’m going to reward you.”
“How will you reward me?” I asked, as anticipation flared through my nervous system. This moment was the cusp—the tantalizing precipice before we ignited. The way he gazed at me like a predator sent my temperature rising.
“Like this,” he said, crushing my mouth in a kiss that scorched my body. He lowered himself onto me, and I moaned loudly at the delicious weight of his body. He was hard everywhere, and it turned me on beyond all reason, past all normal levels of arousal. His mouth was a hunter, marking me as his. He kissed me ferociously, and I could barely move underneath him, nor did I want to.
I’d never felt like this with my ex. Never. Our kisses had been playful and fun. Being kissed by Ryan was a mad claiming. His hand slinked down my side, and I gasped in pleasure, and that sound was swallowed up by his insistent lips on mine once more.
When he reached my ass, he squeezed one cheek, so hard I yelped. Then, in a flash, he’d moved from hovering over me to sitting. He pulled me on top of him so I straddled his legs, facing him.
“Change of plans?” I asked in between breaths.
“No,” he said, pushing my skirt up so it bunched at my hips. “This is what I had planned.” He gazed at my panties. Candy pink with a delicate heart-shaped bow. He ran his tongue over his top lip as he stared at my legs.
“They match the skirt,” I offered, as if this detail was somehow vital.
“That they do,” he said, and then I cried out as his hand landed on my ass. The sting radiated throughout my cheek.
“Did that hurt?”
“A little.”
“But did you like it?”
I nodded. “A lot.”
“Good. Because I loved it too.” He rubbed his hand gently across my rear, soothing out the sting. “God, your ass is fucking perfect,” he whispered with a kind of reverence that I’d never heard before. It thrilled me.
I tensed in anticipation as he lifted his arm again, and then his palm landed hard on my rear once more. I yelped as the sharpness spread. “Did that feel good too?” he asked.
I nodded on a pant, as he smoothed his hand against my backside, then he gathered the pink lace and tugged it inward.
My eyes widened in shock as it fully registered what he was doing. He’d turned my panties into a thong, wedging the material into a tight thread between my legs, so the front rubbed my clit and the back exposed my cheeks.
With his left hand, he gripped my chin roughly. The callous touch sent hot sparks down my belly on a mad dash to between my legs. “This is what you wanted, Sophie. You wanted to test me. To see what I’d do. To see what a man who loves taking charge of you would do.”
I almost asked, How did you know? Instead, I asked something I longed to hear the answer to. “Do you love it?”
“I am obsessed with it,” he said, his voice hot and filled with lust—a lust I’d inspired in him. That knowledge lit me up. I quivered, waiting for the next swat as he licked a path along my neck up to my ear, whispering with a dirty sort of awe, “I’m obsessed with your body. Your face. Your lips. Your ass. And I want to mark this beautiful, round, sweet ass with my palm.”
He let go of my chin and looked in my eyes. He tugged on my panties, the tight fabric hitting my clit, setting off a chain reaction as he cracked his hand so damn hard on my ass that I flinched.
And grew wetter.
I was so immeasurably turned on from all these new feelings crashing into me, colliding inside my body in sweet, filthy bliss. My eyes fluttered closed as the sharp sting rippled through me. He rubbed his palm against my rear to erase the pain, and I whimpered at the quick shift from harsh to gentle.
Then I moaned loudly, because his hand was inside my panties.
“Seems you like it too,” he said, and his fingers glided across the evidence.
“I do,” I said, whimpering as he slid his expert fingers over me, then once again as he landed a biting slap on my rear with his other hand. Heat pooled between my legs from the hit, turning me into an inferno. I was learning that all my fantasies, all my dreams, all my wild imaginings of pain and pleasure were not only coming true, but I liked it.
No, I loved the mix of hurt and heat, of a sharp sting and a hot kiss. The evidence was on his fingers.
Then he gripped my hips and lifted me off him, laying me flat on my back again on the plush seats of the limo.
“Where’s your purse?” he asked, glancing around.
I furrowed my brow, thrown off by the odd question. “My purse? It’s over there,” I said, pointing to the other side of the long car and the bench where I’d left my bag.
He stretched out and grabbed it.
“Why do you need my bag?”
“Do you trust me?” he countered, running his thumb along the slim strap of my purse.
I hardly knew him. But I’d already let him spank me, so I supposed in the context of the situation, the answer was that I did. The car slowed in traffic as I gave him a one-word answer.
“Yes.”
His lips curved in a small smile, and he dropped a quick kiss on the hollow of my throat. Then he grabbed my wrists, held them together, and positioned them above my head so I was stretched out. When I turned my head to the side, I realized what he was doing—he’d wrapped the purse strap around my wrists and was tying the strap to the seat belt buckle. Next he reached for the hem of my skirt and gently tugged it down to ensure my punished ass didn’t rub against the leather. Tied up and stretched taut on the seat, I was bound to his choices, yet somehow safe in his arms.
The prospect electrified me. All the planning and decisions and choices I managed all day long disappeared with this kind of letting go.
I breathed harder, lust and desire pent up inside me.
He kneeled at my feet on the end of the leather seat, his hands wrapped around my ankles. “I want to tie these gorgeous ankles too.” He bent his head to my legs, dusting the bare skin of my calf with a kiss. My hips shot up.
He grabbed my panties, yanking them hard down my legs. “Say you want it too.”
“I do, I do,” I said quickly, the words spilling out.
With arms that moved like lightning, he had my pink lace at my ankles, and he turned the fabric in a knot, twisting the delicate lace. “I’ll buy you new ones. Just like this.”
He finished his work on my ankles and raised his head to meet my eyes. “You’re so gorgeous, Sophie,” he said, raking his eyes over my body. I was still fully clothed in my black blouse and pink skirt and black strappy shoes, but everything was in disarray and I didn’t care one bit. He ran his hands up my legs, caressing the soft skin on the inside of my thighs.
“Look at you. So ready for me. So ready for however I’m going to take you,” he said in a low, dirty growl. He reached the apex of my thighs, his thumbs brushing against my slick folds.
I gasped at his touch. “Take me,” I whispered.
He was on all fours, bent over me, his face near my hot center, my trussed-up feet under his knees.
“Open your thighs as far as you can,” he told me, and I did as commanded, parting my legs for him. In that position, I couldn’t spread them in a V; instead, I opened into a diamond as one knee hit the side of the seat, the other the bottom.
“I love how turned on you get,” he said as his gaze returned to my center. I ached. An exquisite, needy ache. He dragged one finger through my wetness, then brought that finger to his mouth. His eyes floated closed as he sucked off my taste, moaning as if I were his dessert.
I burned up all over from watching him savor me, from waiting for him to make contact.
He opened his eyes, breathing hard through his nostrils as he licked his lips.
Then he dropped his head between my legs, spread me open, and licked—a torturously slow lick up my center that had me singing his praises loudly, the music and the partition making the limo our own pleasure zone. He’d worked me up so much already that it wouldn’t take long. He looked up. “You like that?”
“So much.”
He brushed his finger against my throbbing clit, and I rocked my hips into his hand. “Say please,” he said, his eyes blazing as he issued an order.
Oh God, we were playing again. I barely knew the rules. I was figuring it out as I went along. “Please don’t stop. I’m dying for you. Please.”
He dived back into my sex, licking and kissing and sucking. Making me tremble. Making me hot. Making me shudder. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I said over and over, and I meant it desperately. All I wanted was to come. To buck into his mouth and soar off that cliff of pleasure. To fall apart as he buried his face between my legs. With my arms stretched so tight I couldn’t move, my ankles bound by my own panties, and Ryan kneeling over my hot, wet, pulsing center, I thrust upward.
He murmured and groaned, his hands curling around my ass gently, as if he was aware it still might hurt. But nothing hurt now. I only knew pleasure, only understood desire. Lust was our shared language, as his magic tongue drew wickedly wonderful lines up and down, flicking my clit, kissing my pussy. I screamed and writhed, calling out his name, shouting to the heavens that I was on my way to bliss. He sent me flying over that edge as I came hard.
A minute later, he’d untied my purse from the buckle. I lowered my arms to my waist—the strap was still wrapped around my wrists, my bag by my side.
“Sophie,” he said, his voice gravelly and deadly serious. “I need something from you now. I’m desperate for it.”
“Okay,” I said, still loopy from the mind-blowing orgasm.
“Get down on your knees and suck me hard,” he said as he stroked the thick bulge in his pants.
A fresh round of sparks rained down in my body at his dirty words. “Gladly,” I said, so damn eager to taste him. “Want to untie me?”
He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s the thing. I’m not going to.”
Blow jobs were a hell of a good time, but I did a better job at blowing when I could use my hands. “But wouldn’t it be—?”
He pressed a finger to my lips. “You said you trusted me, right?”
I nodded, even as a small swell of nerves rose up inside me. I could trust him, right? I wasn’t being foolish, was I?
“Good,” he said softly, running a hand through my hair. “Because I need you on your knees.”
Oh Lord, how I’d longed to hear those words. How I’d craved to get on my knees for a man like this.
I dropped to the carpet, my hands tethered tightly to my own purse, which dangled in front of me, and I watched as he untucked his shirt and unzipped his pants. Arousal raced through me at the sight of him.
He pushed down his boxer briefs.
I drew in a sharp inhale at the sight of his gorgeous cock. My lips parted instantly, and my mouth watered with want. His dick was thick, hard, and long. He stroked it with his right hand, and the fire inside me roared. “Come here. Take me in,” he whispered, and with his free hand, he grasped the back of my head, guiding me to his shaft. A drop of liquid was on the head, and my tongue darted out to taste it.
He grinned. “You like that?”
“I do,” I said.
Gently, he tugged me closer. I opened my mouth wide, my lips tightening over my teeth as he fed me his dick.
“Yeah. Just like that, beautiful. Just like that,” he said, his voice rumbling.
I’d never done this hands-free, but he tasted so good—the perfect mix of clean and musky, of sex and freshly-showered male—that I let go of my worry about not using my hands. Besides, I had no choice. I had only one instrument. My mouth.
He gently guided my head up and down, moving my mouth along his cock at just the right speed. All I had to do was suck. I tightened my lips as he rocked into me.
“I pictured this the day I met you,” he said on a loud moan.
I raised my eyebrows as if to say, You did?
“You were so stunning. In that dress. Those tits. That hair. The whole Marilyn Monroe thing you have going on,” he said, roping his fingers through my hair. “I’ve wanted to have you from the second I laid eyes on you.”
I sucked harder, listening to him tell the story of wanting me.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you from the second I saw you,” he said on a thrust, filling my mouth. “I wanted to make you come,” he said, as he curled his fingers tighter around my skull. “And I wanted to come in that pretty mouth of yours.” And as he squeezed his eyes shut, he did just that.
13
Ryan
I scooped her up and set her down on the seat, still woozy from my own climax. But I wasn’t so sex-drunk that I couldn’t focus on taking care of her. Before pulling up my briefs, I unknotted her panties from her feet, untied her from her purse, set the bag down on the seat, and held up her wrists.
“How do they feel?”
She shot me a sly grin. “The purse is made of only the finest vegan leather, so they feel quite fine.”
I laughed and dropped a kiss to her forehead, then tucked myself back in. She pulled her panties on, glancing down at them. “Hmm. They are a little stretched. But I don’t regret it.”
“Neither do I. And I promise to replace them immediately.” I tipped my head to the bar. “Champagne?”
“I’d love some. You should have some too, especially since you don’t have to do bone graft surgery tonight. Or so I presume.”
“No. I don’t. Lucky me,” I said, then poured two glasses from the bar, handing one to her. I clinked my flute to hers then wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder and her neck as we chatted and drank the bubbly beverage while we rode around the city in the long, sleek car with no destination and no goal but time together.
Later, I had the driver take her to the front door of her building. I stepped out of the car with her, and before she left, I reached for her hand and kissed the top of it.
“You’re beautiful. And dirty. And clever. And you take direction like a very good girl.”
She batted her eyes in an over-the-top way as she sidled up against me. “Does that mean I’ve earned the dog photo?”
I squeezed her ass, savoring once more the way it felt in the palm of my hand. “You have absolutely earned it.” Then I let go and looked her in the eyes, surprising myself a bit with the next words that escaped my mouth. “So, what would you think about a third date?”
For a moment I was nervous. I desperately wanted her yes, even though I was as sure as a man could be that I’d get it.
She shot me that bright, gorgeous smile that could light up a night sky. “I think I’d wonder how you plan on topping the first two, because they’ve both been spectacular. So I’d say yes out
of curiosity.”
She blew a kiss and left.
As the driver headed for my house, I tried to keep my mind blank to avoid the litany of questions I wanted to ask myself. But when Johnny Cash greeted me at the door, the questions tumbled free as I petted the dog’s head. “What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? Because I am counting down the hours till I see her again.”
The dog thumped his tail on the floor and whined. A sign he had to pee.
I took him to the backyard and wished I didn’t like Sophie so much already.
The next morning, I sent Sophie her promised reward—a photo of Johnny Cash at his finest.
Ryan: Took this just now after our morning run. Hence the tongue lolling out of his mouth. And yeah, you can say it. He’s adorable.
Sophie: He is so cute. I’m in love with your dog.
Ryan: He has that effect on women.
Sophie: He’s not the only one. Johnny Cash is so handsome. If he were mine, I’d dress him in a cool leather jacket. Or maybe a trendy sweater, like a cardigan. With an elbow patch.
Ryan: He will never wear clothes, I promise you.
Sophie: You know, I once thought I wanted to be a fashion designer rather than a geeky coder.
Ryan: More like a pinup girl coder. How on earth did the computer science guys get any work done with you around?
Sophie: I assure you, I was quite geeky in college. I never wore skirts or dresses or high-heeled shoes.
Ryan: I refuse to believe you were geeky. Prove it with a photo.
My Sinful Desire (Sinful Men Book 2) Page 8