SEXT

by Penny Wylder

  “I have to admit, this seems like an even worse hookup spot than the restroom,” I gasp when we finally part for air again, both of us breathing hard. His cock digs into my thigh now, and I fight the urge to inch my hips a few inches sideways and grind my clit against his hard length. I’m already wet enough, soaking straight through these thin panties.

  “I can’t wait to tear this dress off you,” he murmurs into my neck, his voice low, almost a growl now. “You make me want to take you right here, right now.”

  I shiver in anticipation, arching into him. “I want you to take me however you want me,” I whisper.

  In response, he catches my hand, pulling me away from the wall and into a brisk walk. As we walk, he casts a grin down at me. “I can be patient… For now.”

  Those words reverberate through me as we cross the blocks to our building. When I was walking here tonight, it felt close. Now, it feels like an eternity. An agonizing wait, when all I want to do is jump Zayne’s bones right here.

  We run up against a red light, and he takes advantage of the moment to bury one hand in my hair, kissing me once more, hard and deep. His tongue slides between my lips, and I twine my tongue around his, soaking in his taste, his scent, his heat, the feel of his hot lips on mine, his sharp stubble against my cheek.

  “Who’s my naughty girl?” he murmurs against my mouth, and I sink into him, letting him take control.

  His hands grip my ass, lift me half off the curb as he crushes me against him, and I tilt my head, part my mouth to let him take what he wants from me.

  “You like that?” He squeezes my ass again, harder, and I grin into his kiss, arching against him. “You like it rough, Clove?”

  “Fuck yes.” I bite his lower lip for emphasis, and he growls, practically lifting me off the ground and grinding his hips against mine.

  “Good. Because I don’t want to go easy on you.”

  I lean back far enough to catch his eye, my own alight with desire. “Don’t you dare.”

  His grin widens. “Be careful what you wish for, dirty girl.”

  In response, I wriggle my ass, which grinds our hips together, his thick cock pinned between us, digging into my belly. He slaps my ass, not hard, but enough to make me startle and jump against him. He grins and leans in to catch my earlobe between his teeth and bite down, just hard enough to make me gasp.

  “Oh, the things I’m going to do to you…”

  Then, without warning, he pulls away, and it takes me a second to breathe in enough oxygen to remember where we are. What we’re doing. Because we’re still standing on a street corner in the middle of the city, and the light has just changed. I trail after him, across the road, head swimming, cheeks on fire. Normally I hate PDA, but with Zayne, I didn’t even remember we were still in public. When he touches me, everything else fades into the background. I could be anywhere, doing anything, and all I can see, all I can feel or hear or taste or think about, is him.

  He’s dangerous, I think. But even worse?

  I like it.

  We finally reach the building lobby, and Paul buzzes us in. To judge by the way his eyebrows rise and his gaze darts between us, to call him “surprised” would be the understatement of the year.

  But Paul is nothing if not the consummate professional. So after a moment of gaping, he simply bows his head. “Zayne. Ms. Walker.”

  “Evening, Paul,” Zayne says with a wink as we saunter past him, arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

  “Hello,” I manage, still embarrassed, still feeling my cheeks burn white-hot. This is what it will be like if things go sour with Zayne, I remind myself. I’ll have to walk past him every day, have awkward conversations like this one.

  “Lovely night out,” Paul is saying as he digs under the counter. “Ms. Walker, you had a package…”

  Zayne shoots me a sideways grin. “What was that about you not ordering too much on Amazon?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow, thanks so much, Paul.”

  “Of course.” His eyes trail us all the way to the elevator, and I wonder suddenly if there are security cameras in here. If he’s going to see that we push floor 11, where Zayne must live, instead of floor 5, where I live.

  “You aren’t going to get in trouble for this, are you?” I ask, suddenly thinking about it. Is there some kind of rule against this? Dating the… customers, I guess?

  Zayne only laughs and hits the door close button. “The only trouble we’re getting into tonight is one another,” he says, pinning me against the corner of the elevator with one arm on the glass behind me. I lean against the wall, looking up at him. I’m struck again by the way his sharp blue eyes pierce me, the way his body angles toward me to turn me on, light me up.

  One way or another, tonight marks a turning point. Either this is a very, very bad decision—something the nervous rumble in my gut tells me it very well might be—or it’s a different kind of bad decision. The kind that will give me sleepless nights thinking about it for days to come.

  Either way, it’s too late now. I’ve already jumped.

  The elevator doors ding and slide open. We step out onto Zayne’s floor, the 11th floor, a floor I’ve never been to in all my years living in this building so far. He crosses to his door, unlocks it, and I take a deep breath and fall straight into the deep end.

  4

  The second the door shuts behind us, Zayne shifts into alpha mode.

  “Take off your dress.”

  Our eyes lock. I keep mine on him as I slowly reach for the hem of my dress. Catch it and raise it over my shoulders. Normally I’d be shy about undressing for a guy the first time, but something about the white-hot heat in Zayne’s gaze doesn’t allow for it. He wants me—bad. So why feel shy about letting him take what he wants?

  I drop the dress beside me, standing in my panties and bra before him.

  He paces around me in a slow circle, eyes darting up and down my body as he sizes me up. “Now take off your bra.”

  I catch his eye once more, hold it while I reach back to unclasp my bra. I let it slide down my arms, and my belly tightens at the way his gaze drops to my breasts, a hungry glint in his eye. He lifts one eyebrow, allows himself a small, private grin.

  “Take off your panties now.”

  I lift my chin and let my gaze drop down his body pointedly. “This seems a little one-sided,” I point out.

  “Are you disobeying me, naughty girl?”

  “What do you plan to do with me if I am?” I ask, my smile widening.

  “Mm…” He pauses to let his eyes wander across my body once more, as though debating. “If you are being disobedient, I suppose a spanking would be in order… I’d have to bend you over my knee and give it to you hard.”

  My throat goes dry, my pussy tight with anticipation. God I am so fucking wet already. How does he do this to me? I lift my chin, put one hand on my hip. “Hmm. In that case, I am definitely disobeying you,” I reply.

  In an instant, he’s beside me, one arm around my shoulders, the other sweeping my legs out from under me. I barely have time to squeal and fling my arms around his neck before he’s dropping onto the couch and bringing me with him, spreading me across his legs. With both hands, he easily flips me over, as if I weigh nothing at all. I suppose to him I probably don’t.

  I lean across his knees, bent so my head faces the floor. He positions me so my ass sticks straight up in the air, across his thighs. Then he runs his hand over my cheeks, one at a time, slow and considering.

  Shivers of anticipation and pleasure rush down my spine as he takes his time, massaging my ass.

  “You’ve been teasing me all night. Acting very dirty. I think it’s time you learn what naughty girls get for that.”

  I suck in a sharp breath, tensed. I’ve always loved the idea of being spanked, but I’ve never had the guts to ask a guy to do it before. Somehow, with Zayne, it feels okay. More than okay. It feels safe. “Punish me,” I whisper, and he laughs, a lo
w, throaty sound that resonates deep in my belly.

  Without warning, he spanks my ass once, hard. I gasp and jump against him, but with his other hand, he pins me in place, holding me down across his legs.

  “Count,” he says, as his hand comes down again in another sharp slap.

  “One,” I gasp. The pain is sharp, stinging, but not unpleasant. It makes me even wetter, imagining how else he’ll punish me. What else he wants to make me do.

  He spanks me again, and I count it. We keep going like that, until we get to five and both of my ass cheeks are burning, my whole body alight with the sensation. Then, abruptly, he stops, and starts to massage my ass again.

  It feels different now, the spanking making my skin sensitive as hell. His rough, strong hands working across the now-stinging skin makes it twice as sensitive, the pleasure even sharper in contrast to the pain before.

  “Are you ready to obey me now?” he murmurs, and I turn my head to catch his eye, savoring the hungry, lustful glint I find there.

  It turns me on so fucking much, to see how much he wants me. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Good.” He grins and stands, pulling me to my feet beside him. I don’t expect it so suddenly, and with all the different sensations still rushing through my body, it takes me a second to get steady on my feet. “Now drop those panties.”

  I push them over my hips. Let them fall to the floor in a puddle.

  He glances down at them, smirking. “Wet for me already, dirty girl?”

  “What can I say?” I bat my eyes. “You know how to turn me on.”

  He laughs again and spreads his arms wide. “Your turn,” he says, lifting his eyebrows, almost in a challenge. “Undress me.”

  I pull his shirt off first. Then I have to pause, because the sight of these perfectly carved muscles up close is distracting as hell. I run my hands across his chest, and dip my head to kiss my way along his collarbone, while I trace my fingers along his abs, then slowly down the V that points directly to his groin.

  “And try not to get too distracted along the way,” he adds with a smirk.

  I grin back at him and undo the clasp of his jeans. I inch them down his thighs and take a second on the way down to the floor to eye his muscular legs. Damn, even his thighs and calves are toned as hell. He steps out of the jeans, casting them aside with the rest of our clothes, and I stand back up, only his boxers between us now. The cool air in his apartment feels even colder now, and I shiver a little, tightening my legs. My pussy is already so wet, so the chill isn’t helping. I want nothing more than to pull him against me, wrap myself in his warm body. But he’s watching me with that smirk still, his eyelids lowered, expression dangerous. He didn’t say I could touch him, not yet. Not aside from removing his clothes.

  So, I hook the band of his boxers with one finger, and slowly, slowly tug those down next.

  When his cock springs free, I can’t help but gasp in appreciation. God damn he is huge. And it looks so much thicker in person, so much more tantalizing—and somehow intimidating, all at the same time. Because hell, looking at him right now, I find myself wondering whether he really will fit or not.

  Fuck if I don’t want to find out, though.

  "Lie back," he says, and he casts a glance at the couch beside us. I lift an eyebrow at him, still smiling. He just waits, patiently, until I obey.

  I step back and start to bend over the couch, but he catches my shoulder. Slides a hand down across my chest to circle my nipple with his fingers.

  "Not like that," he says. "Lie backwards across it."

  I turn around slowly, eyes locked on his. Then I lean backward over the edge of the couch, until my head hits the pillows behind me and my legs are spread. The arm of the couch digs into my ass, pushes my hips straight up into the air.

  Apparently that's what he was going for.

  Zayne kneels between my knees and grasps them in both hands. In one swift motion, he shoves my legs apart, baring me to the world. I shiver again, as the cool air of his apartment hits my wet, exposed pussy.

  He smirks up at me. Fuck, the sight of him kneeling between my thighs is impossibly hot. He grins and purses his lips, blows gently right against my pussy lips. I shiver, unable to help myself, and dig my nails into my palms to distract from the intensity of the cold sensation.

  He laughs softly, at the back of his throat. "Cold? Don't worry. You won't be for long." He bends closer, licks the inside of my thigh, just inches away from my pussy. He's so close to me that I can feel the graze of his stubble against my other thigh. "I can't wait to taste you, Clove."

  I reach down to run my hands through his hair, my head falling back against the couch cushions. "Now you're being the tease," I point out, which elicits another laugh.

  "Oh, definitely," he agrees. "But I don't hear you complaining." He turns to lick the inside of my other thigh, and I shiver, my whole body going tight with desire. My clit feels like it's on fire, like one straight lick from his tongue will send me rocketing toward an orgasm.

  I want him so bad. I want him to lick me, suck me, taste me, and then I want him to fuck me.

  "Definitely... no complaints... here," I manage, though to be honest, keeping control of my vocal chords is getting difficult as his tongue inches closer to my lips.

  He presses one hand to my pussy, spreads my lips with hot fingers, his skin calloused and just rough enough that it adds an extra sensation when he runs on finger slowly from the front of my slit all the way to the back, leaving a trail of my juices all along my pussy.

  "I love how wet you are for me, Clove."

  "I want you," I gasp.

  "I know." He grins. "You are such a sexy, gorgeous little naughty girl, aren't you?"

  "Mm, yes..."

  He slides his finger back up my slit, circles it around my pussy entrance. "Are you my little slut, Clove?"

  "Yes, yes." My voice goes louder, sharper, as he pushes that finger against my entrance, not quite inside me yet. "Fuck yes."

  "That's a good slut. Beg for me. Beg me to lick you. Taste you."

  "Please, lick my pussy."

  He licks across my mound, his tongue pressing down hard enough that I can feel it all the way to my swollen clit, even though he doesn't touch it, not yet. "Do you want me to put my finger inside you?"

  "Yes, please, god, Zayne..."

  He pushes his finger into me an inch at a time. I tense as he enters, his digit already slick with my juices, but he just keeps pushing, deeper into my pussy, until he's all the way inside. He feels thick and delicious pressed there, and even more so when he bends his finger a little to curl it inside me, the tip of his finger pressing against my front wall. He draws it out slowly, watching me as he does, savoring my reaction as he pulls his finger out of my pussy again. When he hits my G-spot, my hips buck of their own accord, and I gasp, clenching my fists again.

  He smirks, then, all at once, thrusts his finger back into me and leans down to lick across my clit.

  The gasp turns into a cry, turns into almost a scream as he keeps licking back and forth across my clit, hard enough to make my sensitive nerves leap straight to pleasure so intense it's almost painful. Then he leans back and goes back to only fingering me, slowly, building up the pressure one thrust at a time.

  "Fuck," I manage through gritted teeth.

  He's still watching me, those blue eyes of his darker now, filled with lust. It's even hotter when he looks at me, when he savors my reactions as he makes me feel whatever he wants me to feel. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs. Then he draws his finger out of me, spreads it against my thigh instead, and replaces it with his tongue.

  His tongue is white-hot, a curl of muscle against my inner walls. He explores me inch by inch, swirling his tongue inside my pussy, then licking along my slit before he flattens his tongue and laps at my clit in slow, flat strokes.

  This time it's less intense, more of a slow build. But it still doesn't take long before I'm arching up against him, my hands buried in his h
air, my throat raw from crying out each time he strokes along me.

  Just when I'm at the peak, I tighten my hands into fists. "Fuck, Zayne, I'm going to come," I groan.

  He stops, and I lift my head to stare down at him with a frustrated gasp of protest. "Don't come until I tell you to," he says, eyes fixed on mine.

  I swallow hard. Nod.

  Then he licks me again, and resisting the urge to go over the edge is the hardest thing I've ever done. I have to clench my fists, dig my nails into my palms, focus on that instead of the pleasure rocketing through me.

  "I can't... I have to come..."

  He stops licking me again, starts to finger me instead. "You can control it."

  "Not... with you... doing that," I point out, especially when he drags that finger along my front wall again, right over my G-spot. I feel like I'm going to burst, like the pressure will make me explode.

  "Do you want to come for me?"

  "Please, please yes."

  He keeps fingering me without responding for a moment, watching me as though he's debating. Deciding.

  "Please let your slut come for you," I whisper, eyes locked on his.

  He grins. "You are a good slut..." He slides his finger out of me. "You can come for me now, slut." Then he licks me once more, hard and fast, and that's the last thing I can process before I let the orgasm hit me.

  I can vaguely hear myself screaming his name. The rest is just a flood of pure pleasure, more intense than I've ever felt before. My nerve endings are on fire, and my pussy clenches, my body shaking of its own accord as I fall over the edge.

  When I finally come back into myself, Zayne has wrapped his arms around my waist, and he's pulling me upright. I try to stand, find my legs are too shaky, and lean against him for support.

  "That good?" he asks, but with a cocky smirk that tells me he knows exactly how good it was.

  In response, I grab his face with both hands and kiss him hard. I taste myself on his lips, a salty tang that's even hotter combined with his flavor, his scent. He parts his mouth, swirls that magic tongue of his around mine.