A Gentleman in the Street

by Alisha Rai

  Not Jacob, though. He drew back, lips wet, eyes glittering feverishly. “With cameras.”

  Her pussy clenched. It wasn’t fair, they were both on the same wavelength. How was she supposed to resist debauching him when he was so willing to play? “They’re looking for me.”

  She was held up by the weight of his body and the brick wall behind her. He’d pushed her into the deepening shadows of the alley, out of the direct light, but it wouldn’t take long for an inquisitive photographer to find them.

  He stepped closer, cupping her ass in both big hands, and hoisted her up higher, impatiently shoving her panties aside to dip inside her wet folds. His finger grazed the seam of her lips before tentatively pushing inside. “I thought I’d imagined it,” he said, so low she had to strain to hear.

  “What?”

  “How good you feel.”

  “And did you?”

  “No.” His lips parted. “It’s better. So hot. So wet.” He sank his finger deeper, to the knuckle. It wasn’t enough. She wanted him to loosen his jeans and cram her full of his thick cock.

  “Fuck me,” she directed him, uncaring of the danger and risk, or her earlier reservations.

  A big hand instantly covered her mouth, his thumb resting right under her nose. When she cried out, his teeth flashed white in the darkness, his excitement over their spy game morphing into a different kind of pleasure. “You like this. You liked it when I did this to you in the storage closet.” Her fierce nod dislodged his hand. “Jacob,” she gasped. “I need…”

  He muted her again and rested his head on her forehead, his hot breaths mingling with hers. She was on fire at every point of contact: his finger stroking inside her pussy, his broad chest against hers, his hand over her mouth. “Shh. I know what you need.”

  “Shh. I know what you need.”

  How could he? For the first time in forever, she wasn’t sure what she needed.

  “They’ll hear you.” He screwed a second finger in. “Can you hear them?”

  She could hear them, faintly, the excited chatter of photographers as they waited for her to emerge from the building. Her body grew wetter, the threat of imminent discovery exciting her even as her brain told her it could ruin her.

  He removed his fingers. Before she could protest, the cotton of his T-shirt abraded her exposed nipples as he aligned their bodies so his dick rested against her pussy. He rolled his hips, his jeans rough. “They’re going to figure out there’s a third exit pretty soon,” he murmured. He pressed his hand tighter against her mouth when she moaned. “They’ll come see.”

  Her lips moved under his palm, and he released his hold long enough for her to speak. “They’ll see I’m dying to be fucked.”

  His moan was a whisper of sound. By who, he mouthed. He punctuated each word with a thrust, his cock rubbing her clitoris.

  “By you,” she gasped.

  The unappeased sexual tension coiling inside of her since they had ventured forth on their ridiculous agreement coalesced into a giant, frightening thing. His shoulders grew even more tense under her palms, and he began shafting her with short, rough strokes designed to make her come.

  She gritted her teeth and cursed the barrier of his jeans. He could be inside of her. She needed him there.

  His palm absorbed the small cries she gave as she came all over him. For a second, as he rested against her, that thick bulge riding her sensitive clit, she wondered if he would rip his clothes off and fuck her, any voyeurs be damned.

  But no, he pulled away. It took him but a second to readjust her top and help her put on her shoes, tugging her skirt down to its proper length.

  A tendril of fear curled around her. Would this be like last time? Oops, I tripped and started grinding into your pussy, she thought with some bitterness. So sorry. Let’s erase this from our collective memories.

  But when she forced herself to confront him and search his face, there was no shame or regret, only the same light that had been there before, mixed with a heavy dose of arousal. “The crowd in the front is growing,” he whispered, gesturing to the north end of the alley. “We need to move.”

  He was right, judging from the noise, and it was a sign of how badly she had wanted him between her legs that she hadn’t realized that herself.

  She took his outstretched arm as he started to lead her in the opposite direction. They only went a few steps before he stopped and looked at her shoes. “Your heels are too loud.” He knelt and quickly unlaced his boots. “Wear my shoes.”

  Oh, Jesus. There was a strange, undefined melting sensation going on in her chest. “I don’t think yours will fit me,” she managed. “I’ll be even louder, clomping around.”

  A frown came and went on his face. “Okay. Here.” He pulled his socks off, somehow balancing to keep his bare feet from touching the ground, and put his shoes back on. He knelt again and tapped her knee.

  Confused, she lifted her feet for him to slip the socks over her heels, creating rather large cotton booties. He rolled the sock down, tucking it in behind her heel to keep the material from slipping.

  “There.” He glanced up from underneath his lashes and grinned. “That should help.”

  She examined the odd footwear. “I really hope the photographers don’t see me now,” she said dryly, struggling to hide her emotions behind sass. “This would be hell to explain when I land on the worst-dressed list.”

  He surged to his feet and took her arm again. “You’ll start a trend.”

  “Did you see that guy’s face when we drove right past him?”

  Akira chuckled, thinking of the paparazzo who had scrambled for his camera when he caught sight of her sitting in the passenger seat of Jacob’s car. Luckily, it had taken him too long to start his car. Akira hadn’t been keen on a car chase.

  Jacob coasted to a stop in front of her house. “There’s no reporters here, at least.”

  “No.” She shrugged. “They don’t usually come up here. Hedges are too big, and the more famous neighbors get cranky.”

  “Maybe this thing with your dad will blow over by tomorrow.”

  She quieted. In all the excitement, she had forgotten about her father and the headlines he had caused, simply because he was an attention whore. The TMZ headlines flashed across her mind. She didn’t want to know what other sources were saying. She gave a harsh laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “If not, I can drive you to work tomorrow, if you want. I worked out about two more ways into and out of your building on the way home.”

  Yeah, he really had enjoyed himself tonight. She suppressed her smile. “I’m guessing I’d have to wear a catsuit?”

  “No. Well. You could wear a catsuit, but— Actually, yes, yes, it is vitally important you wear a catsuit.”

  She chuckled, cutting herself off when she caught his odd look. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’ve, uh, never heard you genuinely laugh, is all.”

  “Never?”

  His gaze darkened. The streetlamp glinted over his hair as he shook his head. “After I… In your office, on the floor. After…you laughed. But not like this.”

  After she had come. When she’d been breathless and satisfied at finally getting what she’d wanted for so many years. The brief moment of joy he’d quickly crushed.

  “Well.” She studied her hands. “Anyway, I don’t need a ride in. I have a driver. I’ll have to retrieve my car anyway.” She used the word driver deliberately, an attempt to distance them, but he only nodded, his gaze far away.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.” He leaned in and kissed her.

  Not on the lips. On the cheek. His lips glanced over her skin, a dry kiss somehow far more intimate than another man’s tongue inside her.

  Her hand wrapped around the car door handle, the cold metal chilling her. “I can’t see you again.”

  There was silence for a moment after her blurted-out words.

  “Bullshit,” came his soft reply.

  Surprised at the succinc
t disagreement from a man who had proven to be more than agreeable, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “I mean it.”

  He studied her face in the dim light of the streetlamp from outside. Far below them, the city lights twinkled, but this was the enclave for the wealthiest in the city. Privacy was guaranteed.

  She wished she had chosen to do this in one of her busy nightclubs. Amidst a thousand people. That might have made things easier.

  Liar.

  “Oh, I’m sure you mean it,” he said, his words even. “What are you scared of?”

  “Nothing,” she responded too quickly. “I just don’t want to see you anymore.”

  “I think I deserve a reason,” he said, skepticism written all over his face. “Because it didn’t sound like you didn’t want to see me when I was making you come all over me in that alleyway.”

  He certainly didn’t have much of a problem with frank speaking now, did he? She swallowed, the click of his seat belt releasing loud in the small Toyota. He leaned over and curved his hand around her cheek, his eyes seeing far too much. “Do you know how hard it was for me to stop and pull away from you?” he said, his voice thick. “I could feel your wetness through my jeans.”

  Jesus, no problem with frank speaking at all. He had come a long way from not being able to look at her for fear of illicit thoughts. Unable to resist, she dropped her hand down to his crotch, his mouth opening when she massaged the thick bulge she found there. Not for the first time, she wondered what he looked like.

  “I know exactly how hard it was,” she murmured, caught up in the heated need pulsing through the small space. Her belt unbuckling was loud in the silence of the car. “Or rather, is.”

  “Akira…”

  Walk away from him. You were about to do it. Don’t make this messier.

  She couldn’t. Let her steal this one more thing for herself. It was unfair they had done so much, yet she hadn’t even seen him. “You’ve made me come three times so far. You haven’t come once.”

  “I’m not keeping score.”

  His breath rushed out of him when her hands deftly worked the buttons closing his fly, finding him encased in snug black cotton. “Shut up, Jacob. Stop being so saintly for a couple of minutes, would you?”

  Unable to wait to have him naked, she leaned down and mouthed his erection through the snug material, rewarded by his groan.

  With one fingertip, she edged open the fly of his boxer briefs, reaching inside to release his hard cock from captivity. Fully erect, it jumped into her palm. She inhaled, the scent of hot, aroused male and the perfect shape of his erection making her dizzy with delight. She wished she had more light so she could inspect every inch of his cock, from the engorged veins to the fat mushroom-tip head, wet with his need.

  “You’ve been hiding this big cock all these years from me.” It wasn’t an empty compliment. His cock was in proportion to the rest of his body. She ran her palm over the head, slicking it down his shaft. “I don’t know how I’ll fit it in my mouth.”

  His hand slid under her hair, gripping her neck. “Try,” he said, obviously beyond all social niceties.

  So much for saintliness.

  He didn’t shove her face into his lap, merely ran his fingers over her nape in a coaxing motion. When she didn’t immediately go down on him, he shifted, his hips slightly arching, as if to tempt her.

  Jacob wooing her into sucking his cock was about the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced. She encircled his shaft, rubbing it against her cheek before licking it up one side and down the next.

  “Jesus, Akira.” He gathered her hair in his fist, pushing it back so he could see her face. “Suck me.”

  “What’s the magic word?” she teased.

  He growled, his fist tightening in her hair, sending a bolt of arousal through her belly. “Now.”

  Good enough. She opened her mouth and sucked him in, his salty taste an addiction she would be hard-pressed to deny. There were certain things in life Akira felt she was very good at—sucking a cock was one of them, a point of pride Jacob agreed with, judging from his choked cry when she swallowed most of him down her throat, letting it constrict around him.

  She pulled off and did it again, and again, until he was writhing beneath her hands and mouth. She glanced up, but his head was tilted back, his eyes shut, face twisted in almost agony, curses and moans falling from his lips.

  She knew when he was about to come by the way his hips rose and fell in a sloppier rhythm. He grasped her hair tighter. “Akira, wait, I’m going…”

  She shook her head and sucked him deeper, until the hairs at the base of his cock tickled her nose. He gave a loud, torturous groan and flooded her mouth.

  When he was finished, she swallowed and rose from her position. His cock was still semi-erect, lying wet and heavy on his thigh. Her mouth still watered, and her cunt wasn’t much better.

  Reality came back to her in a rush. You’ve had your fun. Now you know what you need to do. “We’re even,” she choked out. “And now we’re done.”

  That should have been the final line of her glorious exit, but a click preceded her trying the door handle. The lock had engaged, a lock that didn’t open even when she clicked the button. She turned a murderous glare on the driver who was casually buttoning up his pants, hiding his glorious dick.

  Mind out of his pants, damn it.

  “Child locks,” he explained kindly.

  Oh no he didn’t. “Open. The. Door.”

  “In a second.”

  “I will break the window.”

  “I don’t doubt you will.”

  “Eager to explain that to your insurance company?”

  “Eager to explain something to you.” He held up his fingers, the fingers that had been buried in her hair as she sucked him. “That was fabulous.”

  She couldn’t resist preening. “I know.”

  “Second, we are not done.”

  There went the temptation of wallowing in her blowjob skills. “We are.”

  “Fine. Tell me why.”

  “Because…” Why were words so difficult around this man? “You and I aren’t compatible.”

  “I know I’ve been an ass—”

  “This isn’t about that.” She shook her head impatiently. “You’re forgiven, okay? We’re fine. We can be done now.”

  “I don’t want to be done.”

  His wide shoulders were so damned tempting. Why was she being reasonable, again? She could have all of this. Even if it was for a night, they could work themselves out of each other’s systems. That was the simplest route to take.

  But as they’d discovered already, for some reason a single orgasm wasn’t quite enough for either of them. No, it would be messy and complicated, and her life was messy and complicated enough. Sex was what she used to escape that mess. Not compound it.

  “Dinner’s been fun, and sure, some quick hook-ups in an alley or a car are sexy, but you don’t know me. Not really.”

  “Is this the part where you tell me you’re too dirty and bad for me?”

  She liked it too much when he said those words. “I make no secret of what I am.”

  “What makes you think I don’t like bad, dirty things too, Akira?”

  Her thighs clenched. “Because you’re not that kind of man.”

  “Who’s sorting people into types now?” He leaned in, the scent of sex and him forming a heady combination. “The day I don’t want to have sex with you is the day I’m declared dead.”

  He looked up at her, the banked fire in his eyes pulling her in. “I can’t take a breath without remembering what your skin smells like, and I’ll never get the image of what you look like when you’re coming, when you’re being fucked, out of my head as long as I live.”

  Dear Lord. That was it. That was her hot button.

  Because nothing in recent memory had turned her on as much as proper, straight-laced Jacob Campbell using the word fuck in that low, even tone.

  Her heart beat faster
as he shifted closer, creating an intimate bubble around them. “Should I tell you?” he asked with devastating softness. “Should I tell you how I think about those house parties you allegedly throw? Yeah, I’ve heard of them. Should I tell you what I thought when I watched you have sex with another man?”

  She was frozen. When had he wrested the control from her? She struggled to speak, to be her sassy self. “At those parties, I don’t limit myself to men,” she managed.

  Hot arousal flared in his eyes. Heat poured off his body. For a moment, she despised him for coming back into her life, letting her see the fire running underneath his proper surface. She’d be so cold when he left.

  “You should never have to limit yourself.”

  Her eyes slitted in pleasure at the frank approval of his words. Oh, but if he only knew how gluttonous her appetites could be, he would never give her free rein.

  She breathed in deep, struggling to regain the upper hand. “I don’t think wanting me was ever your problem. Your problem is hating yourself for it.”

  “Ask me if I feel disgusted with myself right now. After grinding you to an orgasm in an alley. After coming in your mouth in my car. After imagining taking you up to your bedroom.”

  She could barely get the words out. “Do you feel disgusted?”

  His smile was so bright it hurt her. The lines around his eyes and mouth deepened. “Not in the slightest.”

  “That’s it? Your issues are gone?” She snorted. “Wow. I’m better than a psychiatrist.”

  “They aren’t gone. But my desire to be with you is trumping my stupid issues.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be obsessed with me.”

  “Yeah, that was a dumb thing to say, huh? Turns out, I don’t know how to be anything but obsessed with you. So, please…let me.”

  She’d never found a man pleading sexy, but somehow Jacob pulled it off, so much so she had to look away. “I’m happy this weird aversion therapy has worked for you. But it changes nothing. You don’t want me.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Some people are amazing when you scratch away that first layer.” These words were difficult, a betrayal of the proud, confident woman she portrayed to the world. “Like you. But not me. I’m not better.”