“You’re wrong.” His hand comes up to the base of my throat, his fingers curling around to press on the pulse of my heart. No doubt he can feel it beating rapidly.
“Stop it.” I push his hand away. “What are you doing? You ignore me for twenty minutes and then pull me off the dance floor to grope me in the car?”
He lets out a loud snort and then turns to look out the window. The lights of the street and stores flash by as Steve maneuvers us around the north side of the park. In a gruff, low tone, almost as if he doesn’t want to say it, Ian admits, “I always want you. Watching you with Howe was a miserable experience I don’t want to repeat. I hadn’t realized I’d feel this way.”
“I’m confused too,” I mutter.
Then he lifts me onto his body in one swift move and covers my yelp with his mouth. His tongue is inside my mouth before I am even settled against the hard column of his erection. His tongue is bold, and his lips move over mine with specific intent. This is no soft, romantic kiss; this is a claiming. He’s growling and his one hand is tangled in my hair, holding me imprisoned against his mouth. The other hand is kneading my butt cheek through the silk.
I can’t help but kiss him back, playing with his tongue until we are a tangle of tongues and mouths and wetness. I have no oxygen, but I don’t need it. Ian is breathing for me. His tongue is everywhere inside my mouth. There is no place inside that recess he doesn’t explore, and all the while he holds me tight against him.
Then he breaks away almost as suddenly as the kiss started and rasps out, “I want you, Tiny Corielli. I’ve wanted you since the minute I saw you and that desire has turned into a need I’ve not been able to shake. I tried to ignore what I was feeling, push it aside, but it kept returning. I’m not going to fight it anymore.”
He swoops down before I can formulate a response. When his hands are all over me and his tongue is literally having sex with my mouth, I cannot remember why I’m mad, why I’m supposed to protest. He’s so goddamned sexy. The effortless command he has over everything around him, as if he can snap his fingers and everything and everyone will fall in line, is as sexy as it is infuriating.
I want to be repelled because a sane, smart woman would be. But no, every autocratic action actually turns me on because with Ian, I don’t have to think if I don’t want to. I recognize that I could let him take care of me. That he would willingly make all my decisions for me—what to wear, what to eat, where to go.
And yet . . . if I do that . . . if I allow him that much control over me, then where will I be after my vacation with Ian is over? Back in a tiny one-bedroom walk-up eating ramen noodles and wearing polyester.
“You think too much,” Ian says, smoothing his hands down my arms and then following the path with his wet mouth, leaving a pattern of nips and soothing kisses down my upper arms. His tongue finds the tender skin of the crook of my elbow and the soft spot on my wrist, causing me to whimper and grind against him.
“I have to,” I gasp. “There’s no one else to do it for me.”
“Let me think for you then.”
I weaken because the idea is so tempting. Not having to think, letting Ian take control? Would it really hurt that much to allow it for one night or even a few days?
“I can almost hear the cogs in your brain churning,” he murmurs. His mouth has latched itself to the exposed skin of my throat. It’s so much harder to remember why I was resisting when his mouth is moving up and down the column of my neck. His hands are holding my arms tight to my side. I’d like to blame my capitulation on alcohol, but I only had one drink tonight.
“I don’t want you to think that if I let you have your way with me this one time, I’m giving in forever.” I drape my arms over his shoulders and twine my fingers in the bottom of his hair.
“That thought hadn’t even occurred to me, bunny. You like to fight me and I like the challenge.” He licks behind my ear, causing me to shudder and squeeze him. “Like that, do you?” He repeats his action and I squirm even closer to him.
Dropping my head on his shoulder, I whisper a plea. “Don’t hurt me, Ian.”
His arms tighten around me and I feel the hard warmth of his body through the heavy lace and the thin silk of my shorts. “It’s me who should be afraid.” And then he plunders my mouth and I don’t even notice that he didn’t give me his answer. Or maybe he did and I don’t want to accept it.
His tongue traces my collarbone and licks at the hollow of my throat. He shifts me slightly to undo the button on my shorts and release the zipper. Before I can form a response, his hand is down my shorts and pressing hotly against me. He presses his erection against my thigh and thrusts in a lewd manner. I know exactly what he wants.
“What about my doubts?” I ask, but inwardly I’m thrilled that he’s finally, finally ready. His mouth crashes down on mine, devouring me and leaving me with little doubt as to his intentions.
His lips are wet from my saliva and his fingers are tight against me. “I’m going to fuck those doubts right out of you.”
CHAPTER 21
“Can you do that?”
“Absolutely.” His statement of arrogance is followed by his fingers piercing me. Two long digits push inside my wet channel, eliciting an audible moan.
“Oh hell, Ian. That feels so good.”
I can see his smug gleam at my lack of resistance, at how my body is responsive to his very presence—not to mention his talented touch.
“Your panties are soaked. Have you been wet long?” he asks.
It’s rhetorical because he’s more interested in pushing up my shirt to bare my tummy and then higher to expose my breasts. My nipples are distended and aching. The light rub of the fabric only served to heighten my arousal.
“Ian, I want . . .” My demands trail off as he mouths the sensitive upper curve of my left breast.
“What, bunny, tell me,” he commands. His fingers stroke me, curling toward my pubic bone and then dragging along the tissues all the way out. He repeats this gesture in an infinitely slow loop. He is burning me up. My thighs hug his hips tight, and I pull on his tie so that his mouth is against mine. I surge against his fingers, needing the release from the tension his fingers are stoking.
“I want you inside me,” I tell him. I want his mouth on me, his cock inside me. I want him surrounding me so that all I can see, hear, and feel is Ian Kerr. He angles his head so that he can kiss me deeper. His tongue is again everywhere inside my mouth, pressing against the roof, licking along the sides of my cheek and the sensitive skin under my tongue.
The heavy erection in his pants is evidence of how greatly I’m affecting him, and I glory in that power. My thoughts of inequality are lying on the floor where I’d like our clothes to be. We’re both equal in this, I think.
“Where is it that you want my cock?” he growls.
“Everywhere,” I say, and my lips curve up into a tiny smile of satisfaction.
His teeth flash white in the dark interior of the car, and he pumps his hips obscenely between my legs. “Enjoy turning me on?”
“Yes,” I admit, and my smile becomes a little bigger. I tunnel my hands under his suit coat and revel in the flex of his back muscles. He feels like a powerful machine beneath my palms—and that I can rev that engine and make it run hot? Hell, yeah, I enjoy that.
“You turn me on by breathing.” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust of his hand. My grin dies quickly as he begins to fuck me more thoroughly with his fingers. The palm of his hand slaps against my clit with each drive. “Let’s see what else you enjoy.”
My thighs lock around his wrist and I cling to him with both sets of limbs, my arms wrapped around his shoulders so I can either pull him toward me or press against him. My overriding instinct is to get closer. Blood is pounding in my ears, a rhythm directed by his hand. He’s the conductor or the musician and I’m the helpless instrument in the o
rchestra.
“Tell me,” he commands, but I’ve lost the thread of our conversation.
“Make me come,” I half plead, half demand on his next stroke.
“Be specific.” His fingers signal that he really, really wants to hear the words.
“I want you inside me. I want you to use me hard and long. I want you to drive every thought from my mind that is you. Me. Us.” His body tenses above me, and his breathing becomes ragged. My words are turning him on so much that he’s nearly panting, and that gives me the encouragement I need to continue. “I want your hard cock filling me, making me come endlessly.” I choke out the last words because his fingers are drilling me now, hard and fast, rubbing that spongy spot on the front wall of my channel. He is relentless, and I’m nearly mindless with the pleasure he is generating.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight that you will be left with only one thought. One concept: You belong to me.”
“And you? Who—ahhhh,” I cry out as he bites into the meat of my shoulder. The sensation rocks me, and I start to come. The waves of the release start small and then I’m overcome, dragged beneath the ocean of ecstasy. Through my half-closed eyes I see fierce desire painted all over Ian’s face, in the ruddy flush on his cheekbones, in the half-lidded eyes, and in the slick wet of his mouth.
“I belong to you,” he answers my unfinished question. “I’m yours.”
He pulls his fingers out of me and sticks them both in his mouth, sucking hard and then licking his palm. I nearly come again.
“Oh god, Ian,” I tug at his clothes, wanting no barrier between us, but before I can rip off his suit coat, the car comes to a halt.
Steve’s voice sounds through the rear speaker system. “We’re here.”
Ian pulls down my shirt with a heavy sigh and sits up. With a rueful smile, he does up the zipper to my shorts. I’m still lost in a post-orgasmic state and want nothing more than to drag Ian back against me.
“Tell him to drive around some more,” I say, pressing kisses along the sides of his mouth, over the bridge of his nose and across his eyes. I straddle him and rub my still throbbing pussy against his thick erection. “I need to take care of you.”
Pushing away, I start to slide down his legs with the intent of taking that hot and heavy cock out of his trousers and swallowing down as much of his flesh as I possibly can.
He stops me and opens the door. “Inside.” It’s a guttural command.
He helps me out onto the pavement and I see we’re not at Central Towers but his four-story converted warehouse in the Meatpacking District where I delivered the contract. His suit is rumpled and clearly abused, but Steve says nothing as Ian bids him a brusque goodnight. I falter on my heels as Ian pushes me in front of him. In one swift movement, I’m in his arms and he’s striding to the door.
We aren’t two steps inside the door when he drops me against the wall and we attack each other. My top and shorts are off, leaving me only in my sodden panties and stilettos. I pull at his suit coat, uncaring if I’m ripping some five-thousand-dollar suit to pieces. Ian clearly doesn’t care either, as he shrugs the coat off and lets it fall to the floor. His tongue is in my mouth before the fabric hits the ground. Somewhere along the way, he toes off his shoes and socks but doesn’t let go of me for an instant.
I suck on his tongue hungrily, feeling the ache renew itself between my legs. His hands are at the waistband of my panties, pushing them downward as I struggle with his buttons.
“You wear too many damn clothes,” I cry, wrenching my mouth from his. In frustration, I pull the shirt apart and a few of the buttons fly off, making tiny pings as they hit the cement floor. With some effort and help from Ian, we unfasten the rest.
Then there’s nothing but flesh against flesh. I climb up his body like a pole dancer and wrap my legs around his waist. He turns and the cool stone wall is smooth against my back. I dig my nails into his shoulders to gain leverage. The hard length of his erection rubs against my bare pussy and nearly sets me off again.
His mouth is ravaging me and I open my own wider to receive every bit of his kiss. We kiss each other thoroughly, tongues delving into every recess, teeth nipping and biting at each other. He wrenches his mouth away and leaves a wet trail along my jaw and down the column of my neck.
Behind my ear he finds a spot that makes me sob and convulse, so he sets to it, alternately sucking and biting until I’m mindlessly grinding against him. My hands clutch his head.
“Now, I want you now,” I cry. But instead of acceding to my demands, he cradles my ass in his palms and lifts me off his cock.
“Not again!” I punch him in the back, furious that he’s going to leave me wanting, that he’s going to pull away once again.
Gruffly, he nips at my shoulder. “Damned if I’m going to have my first time with you up against the door. I can wait a minute.” He climbs the stairs, still holding me. “And so can you.”
I don’t feel like waiting. I want him too much, so I reach between us and palm his erection. It jumps in my hand and swells. “You don’t feel like you want to wait.”
“You’re going to kill me.” He angles his head toward mine, and I take up the invitation to kiss him again. I’m ravenous and he’s the only thing that will satisfy me.
Wrapping my arms around his head and hooking my ankles around his back, I continue to kiss him as he walks me up the stairs, across the long, open living space, and up another flight. His effortless strength is making me breathless—that and how his bobbing cock rubs against me with nearly every step. It’s a tantalizing tease, a light brush, but it’s enough to make me wetter than a fire hydrant on the fourth of July.
He walks down a hallway overlooking the main floor until we arrive at the second doorway. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights as we enter, but instead throws me on the huge bed. I get a glimpse of pale-colored walls before my entire vision is filled with Ian.
My mouth waters when I see his bare body illuminated by the night sky that can be seen through the two skylights in the ceiling.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say reverently as he stands fully nude, his magnificent cock arrowing directly upward.
“That’s my line.” He pulls the thick length so that it’s perpendicular to his body and begins to stroke it. My mouth waters in response and I get onto my knees to reach for him. He has other ideas. He pushes me backward until I’m lying on my back crossways on the bed. His eyes burn into me as he stands like a conqueror ready to avail himself of the spoils of war. But he doesn’t fall on me with hurried roughness. Oh no. He decides to take his time.
One hand wraps around an ankle and he carefully unbuckles the shoe before tossing it aside. The position of my leg in the air exposes my core and he takes a moment to stare at my center with undisguised lust. “Yes, you’re the beautiful one,” he says and reaches out a long arm to swipe two fingers up the outside of my pussy.
I jerk toward him, wanting a deeper, firmer, stronger touch, but he draws back. Resting my now bare foot on his shoulder, he kisses up my ankle. Whatever rush he was in before has passed. The time has allowed him to gather his vaunted self-control. I have none. Nor do I want to have any. Why would I want control here?
His deft fingers unbuckle the other shoe. He lifts my foot to his mouth and runs his tongue along the top, stopping to suck on the ball of my ankle and then the tender Achilles tendon. I cry out, not realizing I even had an erogenous zone there. He chuckles and repeats the action on my other ankle. Is it possible to come from having your ankle sucked?
He trails kisses up my legs, behind my knees, and then pulls me to the edge of the bed and kneels between my thighs. With my legs dangling over his shoulders, he places both hands under my ass and lifts me to his mouth like I’m a buffet of sexual delight. He begins tonguing me languorously. Over and over, he places the broad flat of his tongue against my pussy and licks fr
om front to back. Anxiously, I try to get him to penetrate me with his tongue or fingers or anything. I need him inside me.
“Please, Ian, don’t torture me. It’s been so long.” I tug at his silky hair and he raises his head, his face wet from my arousal. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he’ll refuse me but this plea—perhaps the confession that I’ve been without for a period of time—moves him.
“I could eat you all night and be a happy man.” With a firm squeeze of my inner thigh, Ian reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out a condom. With one hand on his sheathed cock and the other grasping my left hip, he rubs the thick head against me. He enters me slowly, giving me time to adjust to his generous girth.
He groans as my walls open to accept him. “I’ve dreamt of being inside you. Fantasized about it. Jerked off to it. But nothing feels as goddamned good as reality.” When he is completely seated so far inside me I feel like I’m overflowing, I can’t help but release a sigh of pleasure. I rock against him because my need is too strong to allow him to remain still. I want him to pound me hard and fast until we are one sweaty—and replete—mess of bliss.
“Stop,” Ian grunts. “Stop moving or this will be over far too soon.” He reaches between us and I feel his knuckles against my tender flesh as he squeezes the base of his cock. I try not to move but it’s so hard.
He retreats, sliding back until he’s nearly left me, and then drills me hard against the bed.
“Oh god, yes, fuck me,” I cry out.
My eyeballs roll back into my head as his balls slap my body as he plunges inside me. My back is almost entirely off the bed as he uses both hands to pull me against him. His feet are braced wide apart, and the force of his propulsion would have driven me across to the other side of the bed if it weren’t for his hands clamped hard around my hips. I drum the heels of my feet against his back, trying to urge him closer. He lifts one knee onto the bed and braces an elbow by my arm, still pistoning his hips against me in a relentless rhythm. My blood is roaring in my ears, and I can’t hear a thing but the harshness of our breaths and the slick sound of our sexes battering against one another.
Losing Control (Kerr Chronicles #1) Page 16