The Do It List (The Do It List #1)

by Jillian Stone

  Tucked into a corner table by the window, I ordered a tangerine martini and Bradley ordered a single malt whiskey and a Dark & Tan. He appeared to be taking in the view—me framed by the magnificent city across the river.

  “You seem happy in your work. You’re helping raise your sister’s daughter. Besides dance class, you must also work out. The cheeky Brit in me would call you a fit bird.” His eyes narrowed slightly, evaluating. “But I get the feeling you don’t get out much, for a humanist copy chief with an edge.”

  So, he’d read about my promotion in Advertising Age. “Was that a polite way of saying I don’t date much?” I tilted my head. “And humanists often see the world as it could be if everyone tried a little harder.”

  “You’re a romantic, living in a not-so-romantic world.”

  I shrugged. “Artists have always been the romantics. Tell me, Bradley Craig, are you a realist or a romantic?”

  He stared for a very long time without a blink. “Why do I feel like the possibility of something hot and naked with you hinges on my answer?”

  I offered a slow smile of encouragement. “I’m not a serial dater, safer that way I suppose.”

  “For your heart or theirs?” He eased back in his chair. “Brits don’t go on dates. We meet at a club, get sloshed and shag.” His playful grimace didn’t quite fit the man before me, whose intense scrutiny made it hard for me to return his gaze.

  And it didn’t take long before the questions began to get intimate. He swept a corkscrew curl off my cheek. “Are you on some form of contraception—pills, shots?”

  Leaning provocatively close, I exaggerated a sultry whisper. “Shall we get tested for STDs together?”

  A flash of smile electrified his gaze. “My brain is in my cock, sorry.”

  The waiter arrived with our drinks. Bradley circled a finger. “We’re going to need another round, straight away.”

  I sipped my martini. “M-mm, I love it when they make these right—not too sweet, just the right amount of tang.”

  I set the glass down and studied the man across the table. Not a stuffy Brit in the least, and scrappy, who would have thought? The fight he had picked with Derek had surprised, even shocked me. Fisticuffs at dawn—or after hours. No man had ever fought for my honor. Perhaps my father, but that was years ago.

  Something about Bradley tempted me to let him in, trust a little. Not completely, of course, that would feel too vulnerable. I exhaled a quiet breath and met his beautiful blue gaze. “The answer is yes, I’m on the pill. I got tested for STDs last year and haven’t had unprotected sex, since.” I focused my gaze. “And, you?”

  “All clear. I have my results if you’d care to see them.”

  I nodded absently. Why didn’t this make me feel any better? Maybe Bradley was right—safe sex, safe distance—safe heart.

  He took a long pull on his Black and Tan. “And what do you masturbate with? What kind of toys?”

  No sense in being coy. “Two cock-shaped vibrators, a new jackrabbit, a jelly egg and a pocket rocket—not all used at once—at least not usually. I just bought some cherry lube, and an anal toy I haven’t tried yet.” I smiled at him. “What do you use?”

  He wore the dark virile look so well his expression was hard to read. “My hand, in the shower, with plenty of body wash.” He lifted his beer and drained the glass. “An impressive list, Gracie. And speaking of lists, have you been thinking about ours?”

  I nodded. “As I see it, this is not a list of sexual stunts, necessarily, but of erotic encounters.”

  “Whenever, wherever—whatever you want. Stunts, encounters, fantasies, I’d be happy to accommodate your every desire.”

  “Whenever, Wherever, Whatever.” I mused aloud. “First tune on my very first iPod.” I returned his intense gaze, but mostly I stared at his firm, wonderfully pliable mouth. The one that had ravaged mine in the backseat of the taxicab from Gramercy to Brooklyn. Even now, my lips were sensitive to the slightest touch.

  The waiter arrived.

  “Secondsies.” I gladly exchanged my empty for a full glass. Since when did I swill Absolute Mandarin like it was Fiji water? Since Bradley Craig, apparently. After a brief perusal of the appetizers, we went straight for the entrees. I decided on salmon—broiled, lightly blackened. Bradley ordered his New York Strip medium-rare.

  He got out his phone and tapped on a few keys. “Ready.” Lifting his brow, along with his gaze, he signaled for me to go first.

  I swirled my tongue along the sugared edge of the martini glass. There was one encounter with Bradley I knew I would enjoy. “Tie me up, tie me down?”

  His look penetrated. “Something coercive, against your will. Nothing too rough, but slightly scary?”

  A powerful rush of fear mixed with arousal surged through me. “Yes.”

  “I’d be delighted.” He looked up from his typing. “And I’d like you to return the favor, with an added bit of torture. A private lap dance, perhaps? In fact—I’d like you to dance naked for me.”

  I grinned. “Wobble a teeny-tiny thong off my hips?”

  “And mighty pretty hips, as I recall.” He waited for my next selection.

  “I’m deciding—take another turn.”

  He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “We meet as strangers in a public venue, a place where we can both get worked up physically—intensely worked up—like I’m going to explode if I can’t have you.” His gaze turned stormy. “Similar to the way I feel now—only worse if that’s possible.” He recited the fantasy as if he’d had done some real thinking about it. “Then I find a semi-public place to fuck you senseless without getting us arrested.”

  I stared at him. “Okay, but it can’t be a unisex bathroom stall in a club.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because everyone has done it there.”

  Now it was his turn to stare. “Certainly not everyone—have you done it there?”

  “No.” I had to ask. “Have you?”

  “I have not.”

  “For a moment I thought he might be angry or put-off but then he laughed. “No sex,” he typed out, “in a unisex bathroom.” His gaze met mine over his phone screen. “You’re on.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit a fetish club.”

  “Bondage, swingers, maybe a lesbian encounter?”

  I frowned. “Not sure, what would you enjoy?”

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh. This one is all yours, love.”

  I thought a moment. “Perhaps, you and I and another female?” He tapped on the keyboard of his phone. “Sappho does Gracie, while Bradley…?”

  I’m very sure my eyes narrowed. “Bradley is allowed to participate but not fuck, Sappho.”

  His mouth curled slightly as he typed.

  “Your turn.” I sighed, delving deeper into my drink.

  He rubbed a lovely bit of groomed scruff. “I hardly know where to begin with you, Gracie. There is so much I’d like to do with you—to you.” His eyes actually sparkled. “When I get my own flat, I would love for you to show up one rainy, cold night wrapped in a coat and nothing else.”

  I smiled. “Really?” The idea seemed almost quaint, coming from him.

  “Humor me. I love that one.”

  “Me, naked under a fur-lined trench coat—you got it, baby.”

  “Number twenty-eight on my old list,” he typed away, “and never checked off.”

  My turn again. I gazed out beyond the dark river that rippled with city lights. “Someplace high above the earth.”

  “Mile high.” He typed it in. “One problem—I understand they’re cracking down on airplane bathroom sex.”

  “Perhaps not mile high. Maybe air balloon, or skyscraper high.”

  “We’ll keep it open.”

  “How many is that?” I angled over and he showed me the list. “What about sex in the back of a hired car or taxi?” One of my long-standing fantasies.

  Bradley considered my question and quickly scrolled through his phone apps. �
��I belong to this thing called Concierge. Let’s see if they can scare up a limo for us.” He pressed the call button. “Yes. Good evening. I need to hire a car for tonight. Something private and comfortable—party of two.” He hit end. “They’re on the hunt for a car.”

  Two minutes later his phone rang.

  “A Bentley Arnage,” he repeated out loud. “Bar, privacy window with TV, plenty of room for two people to stretch out.” Hard to miss the wink in those electric blues. “Callisto on the River in one hour.” He nearly ended the call. “And champagne, if you would, Bollinger.” He pocketed his phone.

  His mouth curled into a sexy grin. “We’re never going to make it home tonight without fucking.”

  TEN

  I WAS SO ready for Bradley Craig. Aching, body-trembling ready.

  Hyperaware of him by my side, nearly all brain function moved to my erogenous zones. He leaned close to open the restaurant door and all the girl parts tingled and tightened. His hand skimmed my lower back as he steered me toward the waiting limousine.

  I barely noticed the champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket as I slid across supple leather, soothing and sensuous against my legs. Bradley gave instructions to the driver—something about a leisurely drive and return to Manhattan.

  He climbed into the limousine. From opposite sides of the bench seat, we stared the feral mating stare.

  “Fired up, Gracie?”

  “Ready to roll, Bradley.”

  He picked up the remote and raised the privacy window. A built-in flat screen tuned to CNBC silently displayed the Dow Jones Industrial Average. I couldn’t tell you if stocks closed up or down. All I could think about was Bradley going up and down, in and out…

  The limo pulled out of the valet lane and headed for the expressway. To help reduce the possibility of hyperventilating myself into a stupor, I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  “Have you ever come ten times in one day?” I blurted out.

  His mouth twitched. “Not since I was twelve.”

  “Write it down on the list.”

  Without a word, he swept me across the seat and onto his lap. “There’s not a chance in hell I’d forget ten times in one day.” I could feel his ready, unapologetic hardness beneath me.

  His gaze never left mine as long tapered fingers slipped over raspberry curves and found the zipper.

  He pulled. “I love that sound.”

  The knuckles of his hand brushed my bare back. He moved his hand lower, slipping a finger between my buttock cheeks. “Like?” He whispered, nuzzling my neck.

  His finger played around the small sensitive opening—my sphincter muscle clenched against his gentle exploration and I moaned softly.

  “As long as you take it slow.”

  “Beyond the sting of a mutually agreed upon paddling—I will never hurt you, Gracie. I want to pleasure you, and take pleasure from you.”

  That said, his kiss was savage. His mouth angled over mine, tasting first then delving in deep with his tongue, asking for more. My fingers dug into his hair as my tongue swirled into his mouth.

  He broke away, “Christ, Gracie,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “I want you so bad my balls ache.”

  “I know the feeling.” I sucked up what was left of the oxygen between us. “Not the balls part, but the rest of it.”

  He hooked his thumbs under cap sleeves and lowered my dress. I helped him by squirming out of the top

  He lay back against the soft leather upholstery and positioned me over him, a knee to each side of his thighs.

  “My God, you are stunning. And these two—”

  His fingers edged the delicate lace of my demi-bra teasing a rosy brown areola. A wave of pleasure crashed through my body and I arched into him.

  “As tantalizing as this little raspberry confection is…” He reached behind me and released the bra. My breasts spilled into his hands and he massaged their fullness as though he understood the pangs of need inside me. Lost in pleasure, his eyelids lowered, and his hooded gaze caused yet another ripple of arousal.

  His thumbs brushed over nipples, and a wave of pleasure rolled through my body. His mouth closed over a hard peak and he suckled and tugged the sensitive flesh.

  Once again, I was bare-ass naked while he remained fully clothed. Hot and sexy to be sure, but I needed more.

  “Bradley,” I moaned. “I want to see you…feel your body.”

  He shrugged out his coat and I hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt. I stretched the fabric over muscled shoulders, leaving his arms pinned down.

  “Undone by a clever female operative.” He used a proper British spy voice.

  “I’ve got you exactly where I want you, Mister Craig.”

  With his arms locked at his sides, my eyes ravaged his torso. Lean and beautifully sculpted. Having never seen so much of his flesh exposed, I marveled at the cut of his arm muscles and a lovely surprise. A black swath of tribal tattoo.

  “A handsome design for a handsome man.” My tongue traced swirls of ink over a rippling bicep.

  A deep groan rumbled up from his broad chest.

  I moved to his pec and licked. “Not all men can take this much sensation.” Wickedly, I blew cool air over a wet nipple.

  He sucked air through his teeth with a sharp hiss. “Christ, you’re gonna make me come.” He lifted me up and his lips brushed hungrily over my cheeks, nose, and mouth.

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. Licking him, sucking on his tongue provocatively.

  He broke away. “The cuff buttons, darling.”

  I quickly unfastened, and he removed his shirt. Unable to stop touching his smooth, muscled flesh, I rubbed up against him, skin on skin. A shudder ran through my body into his.

  “I feel you, baby doll.” He laid me across the seat of the limo and pulled my dress off. A flutter of raspberry red landed on the floor beside his coat and shirt.

  He took a long moment to admire me. “Gracie, love, you are a goddess.”

  My eyes narrowed slightly. “A very naked goddess.” This man, who could make me tremble with a glance, also made me feel vulnerable, beautiful and utterly adored.

  He kissed the inside of my thigh just above the knee. “We’ll leave the stilettos on.” He pushed my leg out and inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth.

  He fingered me slowly until my clit throbbed for him. He pressed two fingers inside and used the slickness of my arousal to find my g-spot.

  I sucked in a gulp of air. “There.”

  “Does it feel best with a lot of lubricant?” He probed gently, curling his fingers back over the spot.

  I nodded, barely able to speak, as he catapulted me toward orgasm.

  I arched in response to this dark elemental man who was skillfully coaxing forth a woman I had never experienced. Greedy for pleasure, I became unabashedly demanding. “Yes—just like that. Oh God, Bradley.”

  He laved me from breast to belly. “I’m going to lick this sweet little cunt until you beg for my cock.” He pushed my legs further apart.

  His face nuzzled the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, and I rotated my hips, thrusting upward to answer his pleasuring tongue. He lapped side to side, circling with varying degrees of pressure. Every tingling part of me hungered for more as he brought me closer and closer.

  He pulled back, his chin glistening with my arousal. A deeper level of excitement rippled through me as we locked eyes. Everything about his gaze was fierce, yet tortured. As if it took all the control he had left to hold the wild ravager at bay. Once loosed, he might eat me alive and I would gladly give him any access he wanted.

  My nakedness against his partially clothed body felt sensuous and enticingly wicked. So much so, my skin tingled all over.

  “Cup your breasts, baby. Make those pretty tips point for me.” I touched myself, rolling my nipples into peaks, arching from the self-pleasuring.

  He sat back on his haunches and unbuckled his belt. “Unzip me.”

  I tu
gged his trousers lower, across that tight, muscled ass. For days now, his lean, sinewy hotness had been hidden under a suit. My finger traced a curve of groin muscle that disappeared beneath knit boxers, exploring the length and circumference of his erection. He uttered a deep, guttural groan.

  I pushed the waistband down, and his cock fell into my hands, rigid and thick. “Go slow, baby.” I stroked him from top to bottom with both hands, drawing his cock out, where I could examine him uncovered.

  The Bentley took a tight curve and my fingernails scrapped over the velvet hard shaft.

  “Good God, Gracie, you’re a torture,” he gasped through gritted teeth.

  His frisky cock slipped out of my grasp and slapped against his abdomen.

  I pulled him down and whispered, “Let me taste you.”

  He moved over me, giving me access. “Easy, love.” His fingers tangled in my hair as he lifted my head. I trailed soft licks and kisses along the length

  He sucked air through his teeth. “Fuck, yes-s-s…”

  I looked up into his smoldering gaze. “I want to go deep.”

  His fingers dug into my hair as he slid into my mouth. “Take as much as you can.” He thrust slowly, and I curled my tongue around the ridge of the helmeted tip before taking all of him. He held the back of my head and pumped into my mouth.

  “Christ, I’m ready to explode.” His eyes glazed over and I knew his climax hung by a breath.

  I reached under his briefs and lifted his heavy sack in my cupped palm. The best testicles hang low and dangle—no surprise here—he was well hung, potent. I rolled his balls gently between my fingers, and they drew in close to his body. The testes of a man ready to ejaculate.

  He inserted a knee between my legs. “Open for me.” His hands slipped under my ass, lifting me up to receive him.

  He stroked the slick folds of my labia with his cock and pushed deeper. “Jeezus, you’re so fucking hot and tight.”

  “Go slow,” I whispered, adjusting to his size.

  Gradually, I opened to him and he filled every inch of me. He took a few easy strokes, gradually increasing speed until he was thrusting harder, deeper. The scent of our lovemaking filled the air as he plunged—again and again—until the moment when he lost all control.