“I prefer to play here. For privacy reasons.” I’ve presented this same proposition to at least a dozen women, but I’ve never been nervous they wouldn’t accept. But Evelyn? I know she’d walk away in a heartbeat, and the panic that courses through me at the thought makes me feel hope again.
“Do they have private rooms here?”
“Not really. I usually use one of the gallery rooms.” I steel myself for her response.
“You let people watch?” She reaches for her handbag and starts sliding out of the booth. “I’m sorry, that’s just not my jam.”
“Evelyn, please.” I touch her elbow to halt her exit. “It’s negotiable. Maybe we could use the room, but we could flip the switch that frosts the window, so that nobody can see us. Would that work for you?”
She settles back into her seat. She’s still on board. “And what do you do while I’m getting ravaged by your pleasure machine?”
“I enjoy the show.” And something tells me I’d enjoy it more than usual with Evelyn as the star. The thought of a patch of auburn hair between her milky white thighs makes my breath catch in my throat.
“I’m assuming you get off while you watch.”
“No. It’s all about you.” She looks pleased with that response.
“That sounds nice. It hasn’t been all about me in a very long time.” I reach across the table and take her hand in my own.
“It should always be about you. How do you not know that?”
“Oh, I know it. It’s the men I date who don’t always know it.” She pulls her hand free of mine and rests it in her lap. “Do you get naked?”
“I prefer to stay clothed.” She arches her brows.
“So, what do you get out of it?”
“The pride that comes from a job well done.” She scrunches her brows into an ‘are you serious’ look and I throw my hands up. “Humans are complicated animals. I don’t know why certain things trip my trigger, but they do.”
“Do you ever have good old-fashioned sex with women here?”
“Nope. Never have.” And for the past few years, not here or anywhere else. But she’d never guess the truth in a million years. I guess my public persona is good for something: maintaining my cover.
“I suppose a man like you doesn’t need to,” she says. “You probably have women falling all over themselves to score a spot in your bed.”
“I’m not the bed-hopping lothario the press would have you believe. You just have to trust me on that one.”
“They say everyone has a cross to bear. I suppose being constantly photographed with famous beautiful women is yours.” Her mouth turns up at the corners as she takes a sip and I feel I chuckle rise within me.
“I knew you’d understand,” I say.
“As far as I’m concerned, if you can’t feel pity for a hunky billionaire, you’ve pretty much lost your humanity.” I ball up my fabric napkin and toss it at her. I can’t remember the last time a woman gave me so much shit and I love it. Usually they agree with everything I say, no matter how ridiculous, and avoid voicing any opinions of their own.
“So,” she says, “with the Sybian. You said you usually tie women to it. I don’t think I’d like being tied to something. Could you live without that, too? Or am I deviating too much from your erotic vision?”
“I’m pretty sure I can work with that.”
“Good. I’d hate for you to think I’m too demanding.”
“Any other questions?”
“Only one,” she says. “What time do you have the room?”
He flips the metal switch to frost the glass in our gallery room and I hear a groan of disappointment from the crowd gathered outside. I wrinkle my brow at him and he laughs and extends a hand. I walk into the room and take it.
“It seems you have quite a following,” I say.
“I’ve never frosted the glass before. But there’s a first time for everything and I’m happy to make an exception for you.”
I close the door behind us and lock it. The room has already been set up and there are only two things in it: the Sybian and a chair about four feet away, facing it. The room is less clinical than I thought it would be. Hardwood floors add a touch of warmth and a universally flattering beige adorns the walls.
“So how do we go about getting started?” I’m nervous as hell, but I’m excited, too. He leads me by the hand over to a small leather case.
“Why don’t you pick out the attachment you want.” He opens the case and watches me intently as I weigh my options. There are small attachments that resemble a finger, circular ones made to stimulate a g-spot, larger ones that look like a cock, and a double pronged version that makes my eyes almost pop out of my head. I feel like a girl in a very naughty candy store.
“Let’s try this bad boy,” I say as I remove a medium-sized cock-shaped attachment and hand it to him. I watch as he attaches it and then I spin around and present him with my back.
“Unzip me?”
“Of course.” His fingers brush the nape of my neck as he searches for the zipper and I quiver under his touch. He makes quick work of the zipper; I step out of my dress and hang it on a hook on the wall. I’m glad I ditched the Spanx tonight and opted for my sexiest lingerie instead: a teal lace set that shows off my ivory skin and auburn hair to perfection. I kick off my heels and walk toward him.
“Care to warm me up a little?” I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. I rest my hands on his massive chest and feel his heart race. At first he pulls away from my touch, but then something shifts and he gives himself over to me. His tongue parts my lips and strokes me with its velvety softness. His hands wrap around my waist and knead my ass while he devours my mouth with his own. I could have kissed him forever, but there’s no use getting romantic with the city’s biggest playboy. I pull myself out of his arms and walk over to the Sybian.
He sinks into the chair, rolls his dress shirt cuffs up to his elbows, and takes the small black control box in his hand. I tug my panties to the side and start to straddle it, but he has other ideas.
“I want you naked.” His eyes bore into me.
“Negotiable?” Because maybe I’m not as confident as I pretend to be. Not anymore.
He shakes his head. “I’ve been picturing you naked all night. I need to see every spectacular inch.”
I reach behind and unclasp my bra. My full breasts spill out of the cups and I watch for his reaction. His chest heaves as I toss my sexy underwire to the floor and hook my thumbs in the waist of my lace tanga. He leans forward in his chair when I shimmy my hips and slide the fabric down. My breasts sway as I wiggle around and he’s staring at me with insane intensity.
“Fuck,” he says, “you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
Still, there’s no telltale bulge in the front of his pants. Maybe he just takes a while to get started. I kick my panties off and move to the Sybian.
I straddle the machine, spread my already swollen pussy lips, and lower myself onto it. He watches with glassy eyes and bated breath as I slowly impale myself on the fleshy attachment. I haven’t had anything inside me for a while, so it takes time to ease the silicone cock all the way inside.
“Your pussy is so tight, isn’t it baby,” he says. “It barely fits.”
I rub my clit with the pads of my fingers as the shaft stretches me. It takes time, but I eventually open to accept it. Before long, I’m sitting flat on the Sybian. Just when I think I can handle things, it jumps to life.
I gasp with pleasure as the vibrations rumble through me. It shakes deep within my core. I lean forward and the nubs on the attachment flutter against my clit. I try to get my bearings, but then it begins to rotate within me, a torturously slow circle that massages the walls of my pussy. All my plans for looking dignified in front of this magnificent man — hold in your stomach, watch your posture, don’t sweat, don’t make any funny facial expression — are gone.
I’m grinding against the Sybian so hard I’m afraid I’ll
break it. But I can’t stop. I’m finally chasing what I’ve wanted for months and it’s not going to escape me now. I lean forward, rest the heels of my hands on the front of the machine, and double down. I ride that vibrating, mechanical cock like I’ve never ridden anything in my life. I feel beads of sweat collect at my collar bone and run down the channel between my heaving breasts. My moans sound barely human.
Everything feels fucking fantastic, but I just can’t push myself over the edge. I just can’t get there. Oh my God. What if this doesn’t work either? What if something is totally messed up and broken inside of me and there’s no way to fix it? What if I never have another orgasm again?
Then I remember, I’m not in this alone. I lift my chin and look at Nash.
No one, in my entire life, has looked at me with such open desire and lust. I stare into his green eyes and I see so much. Longing, anger, jealousy, intensity. Maybe a little pain, too. There’s something else there. A raw hunger. He could have any woman in the world he wants, and right now he’s looking at me like I’m an icy cold beer on the hottest day of the year.
The thought makes me smile and he smiles in return. It’s the naughtiest grin I’ve ever seen. Then he turns the dial and ramps up the power. My first impulse is panic; it’s just too strong. I want to stand up and get away from it. I push against the box and start to ease myself off.
“Do I have to get out the restraints?” He asks.
“It’s too much. I just can’t. I’m sorry.” He lowers the power to an idle.
“We aren’t leaving this room until you come, beautiful. I don’t care if it takes all night.” He runs his hands along his thighs. “So, tell me what you need.”
What do I need? I wish I knew. I can see the benefit of the restraints holding me helpless against the vibrating toy, but it sounds too cold and impersonal. Maybe there’s a different option. A warmer, more personal one.
“I want you to hold me down on it,” I say.
He sits there, silent, as if he’s weighing his options. And then he springs from his chair like a tiger and closes the distance between us in a second. He squats in front of me, so we’re eye to eye and his hands go to my hips. They’re massive and hot as the blacktop on a summer day. His touch practically burns. He moves one, only for a second, to turn up the power on his delicious toy, and then returns to holding me down.
It’s too intense. I use my knees as leverage to try and pry myself off, but his strong hands keep my clasped to it like a vise. Still, I fight it as the sweat courses down my body. He shifts his grip and then leans in closer, until our lips are only inches apart. His brilliant eyes burn into mine.
“Come for me, beautiful girl.”
And with that, I’m cascading over the edge. My body twitches and shudders and my mouth opens for a soundless scream. He covers my mouth with his own and mashes our lips together with a bruising force. As the ripples of pleasure continue to course through me, he licks at my lips and sucks my tongue into his eager mouth. I moan against him and collapse against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and holds me there while the aftershocks subside.
We stay that way until I catch my breath and stop trembling. He places chaste kisses along my forehead and I lick his perfectly chiseled jawline. I lean in closer, to hold him as tightly as he’s holding me, and I brush against the rock hard bulge in his pants.
I finally feel whole again and I want him to share in my good fortune.
“Can this get any more interactive?” I look up at him with a mischievous grin. “Because I’d sell my soul to the devil to get a look at your cock.”
I’d marry her right now without a prenup. That’s the goddamned truth. Because I haven’t gotten hard in years, and now I have an erection that could crack concrete.
I felt it twitch to life when I turned on the controls and I could see the pleasure in her beautiful body. Perfect pale skin and luscious curves. Pink-tipped nipples that transformed into hard little nubs. God, I wanted to pull them into my mouth, one at a time, and nibble them softly with my teeth. But touching isn’t part of this. Never has been.
It’s different with her. I could see something I’d never seen before. She was hesitant. Maybe even a little self-conscious, hard as she tried to hide it from me. Something else, too, when I looked deeper into those brown eyes. A hurt, maybe. A pain that was buried deep, just like mine.
I can’t heal what’s wrong with me; maybe there’s still time to heal her.
So I broke my rule.
I sank to the floor with her and placed my hands firmly on her hips. My cock hardened and pressed against my dress pants as I licked the salty sweat from her skin and inhaled the sweet perfume of her pussy. When she trembled against me I pressed my lips against hers with dizzying force and cupped one of her perfect breasts.
After she finishes, she looks up at me with a naughty grin and an adoring gaze and I can’t deny her what she wants. I don’t want to.
I unfasten my pants and shove them down around my thighs, taking my boxer briefs with them. My cock bobs free as she continues to grind her hips onto the vibrating leather.
“Look at my greedy girl,” I say. “Going for number two.” She nods as her eyes roll back into her head. I take my cock in my hand and start with slow lazy strokes. I need to take my time; I’ve waited so long for this, I’m not ready for it to be over yet.
“I want you to come with me,” she says as she reaches out for me. Her delicate fingers curl around my thick cock and I move my hands to her breasts. I knead them and play with her nipples as she pumps away at my cock. Her other hand drops lower and cups my balls, teasing and massaging them with the pads of her fingers.
I need to be closer to her. I inch forward on my knees until my thighs are touching hers. She leans into me and her nipples graze my chest.
“I want you to come all over my pussy.” She strokes me with one hand while the other slides between her legs and spreads her swollen lips. She lifts herself up to give me a better view and she nestles the head of my cock against her labia as she jacks me off. The vibrations from the Sybian spread through me as I relax against her wet warmth.
The strength of my orgasm catches me by surprise. The pleasure peals through my body, surging through my limbs and up my spine before concentrating in my cock and balls. I thought I couldn’t get any more turned on, but I’m wrong, because I feel another surge of heat when thick ropes of my cream mark her pretty pink pussy. I slide my hand between her legs and massage every last drop into her skin.
Her head is resting against my neck and she’s kissing me there. Her hands stroke the muscles along my back and torso. There’s no longer a hum in the air; she must have turned off the Sybian without me noticing. I reach down and tilt up her chin with my finger. It’s hard to read the emotions on her face, but two are plain to see: the relief of satisfaction combined with the pride in a job well done.
“You’re pretty fucking good at that,” I say. She giggles at me.
“You aren’t so bad yourself.” She extends her hands. “Help me up? I think my legs have turned to jelly.”
I help her to her feet and then pull her close to me. She’s still trembling, so I tuck her into my side as we cross the room to our clothes. I can’t keep my hands off her as we get dressed in our post-orgasm haze. I nuzzle against her breasts as I slide on her bra.
“Do you see my panties anywhere?” She shakes out her dress and watches for a little slip of lace to fall free.
“They have to be here somewhere,” I say as I make a show of looking around the floor.
“I guess I’ll just have to do without.” She picks up her dress.
I caress her satin soft skin one more time before she covers it with her dress. I kiss the bottom of her foot as I slide on her shoe and she laughs, and I have the overwhelming urge to discover every other place where she’s ticklish, if only to make her laugh that gorgeous laugh again. We’re both exhausted, sweaty, and happy.
I wish there was somewhere we could
relax and talk. I want to know everything about her. I want to know where she grew up, her favorite movie, her best friend’s name, the first boy she dated, and every other detail. I want to memorize everything about her.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts and I’m pulled back to reality.
“Shit,” I look at my watch. “I hate to be indelicate, but we need to be out of here in five minutes so they have time to turn the room over for the next client.”
The afterglow is completely gone. She looks like I slapped her across the face. She raises her hand to her brow and stumbles as she reaches for her handbag.
“Of course, I’ll get out of your way. It’s probably better if I leave first so nobody knows we’re together.” She brushes past me and I’m so anxious to hurry after her that I struggle to get my shirt buttoned.
I’m such a fool.
I grab my coat, reclaim my cellphone from security, and make it out of the club in record time. I try to play it cool, but there’s a nugget of panic buried in my chest and, before long, I’m practically sprinting for my car. My thoughts run wild as I dodge traffic.
Of course there was no connection there. Of course it was just sex. It was just my imagination working overtime thinking someone like him could fall for someone like me. The billionaire and the curvy flower shop girl. Maybe in some bullshit Hollywood romantic comedy. Not in real life.
The blaring horn shocks me back to reality. I wave my hand and cringe in silent apology while I skirt the yellow taxi and dart across the road.
“Evelyn!”
I hear his voice as I reach for the car door. I close my eyes and tell myself he’s just being polite. Of course he wants to leave things on good terms. He doesn’t want to sully his reputation in this city. I know what he’s doing, and yet I stand there and wait for him, desperate to hear him out.
I feel his hand on the back of my arm, and then he’s beside me. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is a little disheveled, and I can tell from his misbuttoned shirt that he got dressed in a hurry. Still, he looks hot as fuck.
Body Worship: The Billionaire and the BBW: Body Heat Series Book 3 Page 2