by Cynthia Sax
The door opens. “Dakota, I was searching the club for you.” This lie would be more believable if the publicist tore her eyes away from the phone in her hands. “I thought I had lost you.” The woman types on the device.
Dakota mumbles a sleepy apology. I extract myself from her grip and exit the vehicle.
The publicist takes my place. Dakota moves toward the woman. The publicist ignores her, her fingers flying over her phone’s tiny screen.
I sigh as I close the door. The actress might have someone with her but she remains alone.
I tap the roof of the limousine twice. The vehicle drives away.
“You must be tired, baby,” a familiar voice rumbles behind me. “You’ve been running through my head all night.”
I turn, laughing. “Your lines are getting worse.”
“I try.” Smoke grins, the skin around his brown eyes crinkling.
“Try harder.” This routine we have brings me joy.
“Come here, gorgeous.” He holds out his hand. “I’ve worked up an appetite and you look good enough to eat.”
I run my fingers through my hair as I hurry to his side. “I’m a mess.” I clasp his hand.
Smoke wraps his fingers around mine. “You’re a hot mess.” He guides me into the club. Heads pop in and out of the hallway. “We’re being watched again.”
“No fingering.” I hold up my index finger. “I’m grubby and—”
“You’re dirty. I like that.” My player winks at me.
I shake my head. The man has a one-track mind.
“You did well tonight.” His tone turns serious. “Thank you.”
“I enjoyed it.” His employees, especially the female staff, looked to me for help. I felt like a part of his makeshift family, needed, loved. “I’d happily do it again.”
“I’d happily do you again and again and again.” Gold sparkles in Smoke’s dark brown eyes.
“You wanted a blow job.” I lower my voice, aware that his employees are listening. “I need the practice.”
“You’ll get practice.” He opens the door to his office. “Tomorrow.”
I walk into this private space. The glass and spilled alcohol has been cleaned up. There’s a pink stain on one of the walls. “A sexy man once told me there’s no tomorrow, only here and now.” I quote him.
“That man sounds like a jackass.” Smoke swings me toward him and covers my lips with his. I open to him, eager for his embrace, needing this, needing him.
Our tongues skim and slope and dance. He tastes of mint and man, with an underlying layer of faithfulness, of forever.
My player pushes forward. I move backward, following his lead. My ass bumps against the couch’s armrest. He scoops me upward, setting me on the soft leather.
I spread my legs, creating space for him. His pant-covered cock presses against my bare pussy and we both moan, the sound flowing down our throats, connecting us even more.
Maintaining our liplock, Smoke unbuttons my suit jacket, revealing my pale skin, plain white bra. I push his jacket over his shoulders and slide my fingers over his shirt, savoring the softness of silk over unrelenting male chest.
This hot-as-hell man wants me, the ridge in his pants hard, long, thick. I’m his and he’s mine. He’s committed to me, to us.
I rock against him, branding the black fabric with my scent. Smoke mumbles his approval, delving farther into my mouth. He cups my bra-covered breasts, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, tormenting me as only he can.
I need those firm hands on my skin. I yank the cups of my bra downward, releasing my curves. My nipples tighten in the cool air. Smoke covers them with his warm palms and I arch my back, the contact exquisite.
“You have magnificent tits.” He dips his head. “And this one is my favorite.” Smoke brushes his lips over my left nipple and I suck in my breath, pleasure radiating from that point. “It’s mine.”
“They’re both yours.” I thread my fingers through his black hair and hold him to me as he nips and sucks, teasing me into an erotic frenzy. “My body is yours to use.”
I’m his to love. He can take me any way he wishes. I trust him not to hurt me, to always please me. His past has taught him how, ensuring my sexual satisfaction.
He mouths over the dip between my breasts and lavishes attention on my neglected right nipple. I squirm, unable to stay still. My skin hums from his lips. The spicy-rosemary and woodsy-nutmeg scent of his cologne fills my lungs.
I dig my fingernails into his skull and he hisses against my right breast. “Patience, baby. You’re always in a rush.”
“It’s the way you touch me, player.” I lick his neck, tracing the outline of his tattoo, tasting the salt of his skin and he shudders. “It creates a need in me I can’t control, a pussy-deep wanting.”
“Are you wet for me, Jenella?” Smoke skims his fingertips between my thighs and cups my mons. “Oh yeah, you’re dripping.”
He strokes my feminine folds and I pant, moving into his fingers, shamelessly seeking more pressure, more delectable contact. The butt plug he’s instructed me to wear adds an intriguing tightness to the encounter, an exotic flair.
A month ago, I had resigned myself to a quickie twice a week, missionary position only. Now, I need it twice a day. Or more. Any way possible.
Smoke is turning me into a sex addict.
And I love it. He pushes a finger inside me. I love him. My pussy walls clench him, trying to draw him into me.
“You smell so fuckin’ good.” Smoke inhales, his nostrils flaring. “I have to taste you.” He drops to his knees before me.
“Smoke, no.” I try to push him away. He doesn’t budge. “I’m not clean.” It’s been a long day. We’ve already had one round of sex. “Please.”
“Those gorgeous thighs of yours must be made of butter. I want to spread them.” Ignoring my protests, he pushes my legs farther apart, opening me completely. “You have such a pretty cunt, all delicate and wet.”
Smoke licks me from ass to clit and a keening sound rises from my throat. My head falls back, my body surrendering, my mind turning to mush.
“You’re delicious, baby.” He smacks his lips, his eyes gleaming with passion, with lust. “I’m going to fuckin’ eat you out, drink your cunt until you’re dry.”
My player hooks my legs over his shoulders and applies himself to the task, laving each fold, delving into my pussy hole. I wiggle. He cups my ass, gripping me tightly, forcing me to stay still.
I’m restrained, incapable of movement, unable to do anything except feel, savor, enjoy, as he ravishes my pussy with his firm lips and rough tongue, his dark head positioned between my pale thighs. “Smoke.” I sink my fingers into his hair, the strands soft and fine. “I need.”
I don’t know what I need. My legs tremble.
“You need me.” He pulses his tongue into me, pushing deeper and deeper, teasing my clit with the tip of his nose. “I’m all you fuckin’ require.” His cheeks glisten. “No one will ever go down on you like I do.”
“You’re. The best.” I lift my hips into his tongue-fucking, past the point of forming complete sentences. “So good.”
“I’ll treat your cunt right, Jenella.” Smoke gazes up at me, his eyes glittering. “Your cunt and your tits, especially the left one.”
“And my ass?” My lungs ache, my chest constricting.
“Your ass too.” He slides his right hand between my ass cheeks and pushes on the butt plug. “Once we’ve properly trained it.” Smoke returns his focus to my pussy. “Play with your tits. Keep those cranberry-colored nipples taut for me.”
I pinch and pull at them, the pain escalating my passion. Smoke circles my clit with the tip of his tongue. My thighs shake. Desire winds around and around me.
All of this is for me. Smoke’s dress pants remain zipped. Both of us are focused on my fulfillment, on my happiness. My formerly selfish player is putting me first, placing my needs before his.
His actions say much mor
e than words ever could.
My arousal spirals upward. Tremors rock me, increasing in intensity, stripping my control.
“Smoke?” I can’t hold on much longer.
He fixes his lips around my clit and looks upward, meeting my gaze.
Oh my God. My breath hitches. I know what he plans to do and I won’t survive it. I—
He sucks and I scream, bucking against him, my soul shattering into a million tiny fragments, as sharp as broken glass, as jagged as the tattoo on his neck. Sound rushes over me. My body convulses, my pussy clenching around nothing and releasing, clenching and releasing.
Smoke drives his tongue inside me, slurping, inhaling, consuming my ecstasy. I hump his face, smacking my pussy against him. “Smoke. Smoke. Smoke.” His name is the only word on my lips, in my brain.
My player sucks me dry, drawing every last drop from my form, every bit of bliss from my soul. I topple over, landing flat on my back on the couch, my arms and legs limp, lifeless.
Smoke surges forward, covering my body with his, pushing me into the leather cushions, his weight solid, comforting.
“Are you feeling better, baby?” His tone is smug. The damn man knows he melted my brain.
“I’m floating.”
He rests his cheek on my left breast, his favorite. “I’ll keep you grounded.”
I shift under him. He’s hard. I should do something for him. “Do you want that blow job now?”
“This is what I want right now.” Smoke’s breath wafts over my skin. “You under me, soft, warm, lush.” His lips curl upward, contentment softening his countenance. “The taste of you on the tip of my tongue.”
My face heats. “You’re such a pig.”
“I’m the pig you love.” Pride warms his voice.
I smile. “Yes, you’re the pig I love.” I touch my player’s handsome face. He’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.
I won’t ever let him go.
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You can keep in touch with Cynthia using the following links:
Website: CynthiaSax.com
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Blog: TasteOfCyn.com
Other Books by Cynthia Sax
City Sizzle Series
set in the same world as
One And Done
One Night With My Billionaire Master
The Good Assistant
Seducing My Billionaire Boss
About Cynthia Sax
USA Today bestselling author Cynthia Sax writes contemporary, SciFi and paranormal erotic romances. Her stories have been featured in Star Magazine, Real Time With Bill Maher, and numerous best of erotic romance top ten lists.
She lives in a world filled with magic and romance. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they adore. They live passionately. They play hard. They love the same women forever.
Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research, while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.
Sign up for her dirty-joke-filled release day newsletter and visit her on the web at www.CynthiaSax.com
Website: CynthiaSax.com
Newsletter: Taste of Cyn newsletter
Facebook: facebook.com/cynthia.sax
Twitter: @CynthiaSax
Blog: TasteOfCyn.com
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