by Meghan March
Another round of shivers skate down my spine as goose bumps rise along my skin. I’ve been waiting years for this moment, and I’m going to enjoy it completely.
Cav smooths his hands down my sides until he reaches my waist. My black skirt isn’t indecently short, but it’s not exactly long either. It’s a kilt style, and when Cav unhooks the fastenings, it drops away. The cheeky panties I have on beneath leave enough to the imagination not to be scandalous if a gust of wind happens to blow up my skirt. I think about these things because it has totally happened to me in the city more than once.
“Next time you wear this skirt with me, you’re not wearing panties, and I’m going to make you come while we’re in a room full of people.”
I arch into the palm of his hand as it cups my ass. The heat disappears and a sharp crack against my left cheek comes next.
I gasp in shock, but Cav silences me.
“Quiet. That’s me showing you what’s gonna happen if you wear this skirt and no panties without me. I’ll lay you out over this counter and spank this perfect little ass until you understand that it belongs to me and only me.”
I should rail against his caveman comment, but I can’t. My panties, the ones he’s trailing a finger along the edge of, are soaked.
I’ve read books about men like this. Dominant ones who take what they want and give mind-blowing orgasms to their women, but the overabundance of stuffed-shirt bankers and lawyers in my life made me believe they didn’t actually exist. But they do. And one is sliding my panties down over my ass and letting them drop to the floor.
“Step out of them.”
I comply, but Cav isn’t done giving orders.
“Spread your legs.” When I inch my feet apart, he isn’t satisfied. “Wider.”
Feeling ridiculously exposed, I slide my foot another inch to the side. It still isn’t enough for Cav. He lowers himself to his knees and wraps a hand around my ankle, moving my foot where he wants it.
I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted any man before.
“Look at this pretty cunt, all wet for me. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Smooth and slick. You’re going to ride my face until you scream, and then I’m going to fill you full of my hard cock.”
His words unleash another wave of heat within me. If he doesn’t put his mouth on me now, I’ll grab his head and put him where I want him. Instantly, I wonder if I would end up with a few more strikes across my burning ass as punishment. I bite my lip at the thought. No one has ever spanked me before . . . and it was hot. I’m tempted to do exactly what he said to get him to do it again.
My thoughts derail as Cav’s palms slide up my inner thighs, stopping just short of where I want him. “I like you like this. Wet. Bare. Waiting for me like a good girl to take whatever I give you. Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this for years. What you taste like. How hot this pussy is going to be once I get my mouth on it.”
“Are you trying to make me beg?” I ask, my tone so husky, my voice doesn’t sound like me.
Cav’s chuckle is dark as his breath brushes my inner thighs. “When I want you to beg, you’ll know it.”
Those are the last words he speaks before he repositions himself between my legs and his hands palm my ass, spreading me wide. His lips graze my clit and my muscles clench deliciously. When his mouth closes over me, I can’t hold back a moan.
After a few teasing circles and licks, I’m already pressing down on his face. Cav doesn’t waste time—or let me dictate his movements. He’s devouring me, swirling my clit, eating me like I’m his favorite dessert. And I want to be.
My fingers grip the counter as he fucks me with his tongue, and I writhe against his mouth. My slickness must be dripping on him, and he increases the pressure, pulling me more firmly against his mouth. I do exactly what he told me I would do—ride his face.
My orgasm is close. I’ve never come this quickly before . . . actually, I’ve never come from oral sex ever. But Cav’s dominant words and his commanding and skilled performance are about to change that.
And when one thumb slides across my ass to that spot, something inside me splinters. Untried nerve endings flare to life at the pressure of his thumb on my ass.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. What—”
My nipples harden even further as the pleasure center in my brain shifts into overdrive. Too many sensations, and the orgasm explodes with the scream from my lungs.
Cav doesn’t stop. The pressure on my ass intensifies, forcing the waves of my orgasm to continue ripping through my body. I’m shaking, hands gripping the edge of the counter like it’ll help me hold on to my sanity. I open my mouth to plead for something, what I’m not sure, when he pulls away and stands behind me.
His hands caress my arms, skimming across my sensitized skin until they close over my fingers. Lowering his head, he nips my earlobe between his teeth. “You did good, baby girl. You’re still holding on. But you’re not gonna let go until you scream for me twice, are you?”
“Not letting go.” I want to scream for him twice. I want more of this body-shaking pleasure he’s given me. Seeking more contact, I push my ass into the erection pressing against me.
Cav keeps talking, his tone seductive and slow. “You liked my thumb on your ass. You’re gonna take a hell of a lot more there. I’m gonna stretch you out until you can take my cock.”
Shivers chase down my spine as I release a small moan against the counter. I want him and all the forbidden things he says he’s going to give me.
“But not tonight. Tonight I’m gonna fuck this tight little pussy again. You know why?”
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because it’s mine. It was made for my cock. Every guy in that bar wanted to be me tonight, and it didn’t have jack shit to do with who I am. They all wanted to be the guy taking you home and fucking you tonight. But they can’t have you because I’m not letting you go again. Do you understand me?” Every word rings with the distinct sound of possession.
I try to nod, but my cheek against the counter doesn’t allow it.
“Answer me, Greer.”
“Yes.” Right now, I’d say anything he wanted to hear. I need him inside me.
“Good girl.” He releases his grip on my hands. “Don’t move.”
Once again, his touch is all I can focus on as his palms follow the curves of my body. I love how he handles me so confidently—no question of whether I’m going to enjoy what he’s going to give me.
His hands disappear and the sound of his zipper and the rustle of his jeans meet my ears. My anticipation ratchets up a dozen notches when he slides his cock between my legs and teases me with the head.
“Hope you’re ready, baby.” He presses against my entrance and sinks to the hilt with a single thrust.
I moan against the counter, my fingers uncurling and clenching where he told me to hold on. Filled. Taken. Owned. All of these feelings riot inside me as he fucks me with sharp drives of his hips, slowing for a few and then fucking me harder.
My fingers twitch with the urge to reach down and touch my clit, ensuring my orgasm will hit me fast and hard, but I keep my hold, trying to obey. Something about wanting to touch myself but knowing I can’t sends me higher, hotter, faster.
Cav’s big hand comes around my hip, and he centers the heel against the spot that’s dying for pressure. I bite my lip to keep from screaming. It’s a lost cause.
The orgasm hits me hard, and I squeeze the counter until my fingers go numb and my body vibrates. Cav doesn’t slow, his thrusts continuing to pound into me.
“Fuuuuck.” His bellowing roar echoes in my apartment as his cock jerks inside me.
Our heaving breaths and thundering heartbeats fill the ensuing silence.
He reaches up and sweeps his thumb across my knuckles. “You can let go now, baby girl.”
His lips press against my hair as I uncurl my fingers. I stretch them a few times until Cav takes over—rubbing each joint until the ache fades. When he’s done, he reache
s for the box of tissues tucked into the corner of my counter and pulls away. I snag a couple, use them to clean up, and turn to face him.
What do I do now? What do I say? Are we together? Do I want us to be together? Do I trust him? My brain has kicked into logical mode and the questions are bombarding me.
He told me I was his, but for how long? Until he loses interest in whatever we’re doing? He’s not staying in New York forever. His life is in LA.
Dammit, why can’t the postcoital bliss stage last longer for me? Why can’t I be the girl who rolls with the casual sex and doesn’t ask questions?
Wait. Why can’t I do that? Nothing’s stopping me. I can be that girl. I don’t have to let my emotions get involved. I can take whatever this is for what it’s worth, enjoy it, and still keep my heart intact.
Decision made, I give myself an internal nod of approval. No emotions. No heart. Just casual sex while I see where this goes. And if that casual sex happens to be the best I’ve ever had . . . then all the better for me.
Winning, Greer. You are winning.
“Well, um. Thanks. That was . . . a perfect nightcap. I better crash. I’ve got a lot to get done tomorrow. Have a good night.”
I keep my tone light and casual, and Cav stares at me like I’ve grown another head. I want to fidget under the intensity of his gaze, especially because I’m standing here naked except for my bra and heels, but I keep my hands locked together in front of me. Casual. Cool. Calm. Collected. I may be none of those things right now, but I’m sure as hell going to fake it until I make it.
“Then I’ll . . . see you tomorrow,” he says slowly, as though he’s trying to form a sentence in a foreign language.
“If I can carve out some time, I’ll, um, shoot you a text?” I don’t even have his number.
He shakes his head, his eyes narrowed. “I’ll find you, Greer.” His expression is calling me out on my bullshit blowoff. Like he knows what game I’m playing, and he’s better at it.
That just hardens my resolve. This is my life. Not a game.
“Good night, Cav. Thanks again.”
He leans in, and I expect another kiss on my forehead or my cheek, but Cav is having none of it. He buries his hand in my hair, gripping the back of my head, and covers my lips with his. His tongue slides inside, no permission requested or needed.
I’m still catching up with the devouring kiss when he releases me and steps away.
“Good night, Greer. My pleasure.”
“The kitchen counter? Nice. You’re going to have to point out that space so I don’t accidentally sit where you almost lost your anal cherry.”
I consider hanging up on Banner because the last thing I want to talk about is my anal cherry, but . . . I’ve been dishing with her for years about her hot sexcapades and my lukewarm ones. Now that I’ve finally got something to share, I’m sharing.
“Right side, between the last two bar stools.”
“Damn . . . So, was it as good as the first time? Even though you weren’t banging against any walls?”
I don’t hesitate. “Better. He’s good. Like, maybe best ever.”
She sighs. “I don’t know if that means he’s off-the-charts incredible, or whether I should send a sympathy bouquet to you for all the years of shitty sex you’ve had.”
“I like flowers,” I say offhandedly. “I don’t get them often enough. Or ever. Unless I buy them myself.” Now that I think about it, that’s pretty tragic. I make a mental note to buy myself flowers more often because, dammit, I deserve them and spectacular sex.
“Well, shit, this guy better get on the ball if he wants to impress you, then. Too bad he hasn’t been in any romcoms. That flower-giving shit would be ingrained.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“What do you mean? That your life isn’t a funny/sexy movie? Because it could be. Although right now you’re heading into porn territory. I mean, how much of a story line was there before you banged against the door?”
“Seriously, shut up. You know what I mean. This thing with Cav, it’s not real. It’s not going to last. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but considering his track record for following through with me, I’m not going to expect anything but hot sex. That’s fair, right?”
There’s a moment of silence on the line. “One time does not a track record make,” Banner says.
“Yeah, okay, so he stood me up once. For three years. Without a word. That’s bullshit and you know it. I’m not going to get all hearts and flowers over him now because I can’t trust it. And even if I could trust it, I don’t need to be all hearts and flowers over anyone. I just got out of a two-year relationship that sucked.”
Hindsight is a brilliant thing. Why I stayed with Tristan for as long as I did, existing on scraps of attention, admittedly shitty sex, and me doing all the work to keep some semblance of a relationship going, I’ll never know. What a waste of my time.
“I know. I tried to tell you Tristan was a D-bag, but you didn’t want to hear it from anyone. But guess what? If Cav is a D-bag, I’ll tell you. At least he’d be a D-bag that makes you come and is built like a fucking brick shithouse. Seriously, I kind of hate you right now. I want to climb on and ride that ride.”
My inner claws come out with a wave of possessiveness I don’t expect. “No one’s riding that ride but me until I’m done with it.”
“Then own that shit, girl. Millions of women would kill to be in your position, not to mention trying to get knocked up with his kid so they’ve got a hold on him for life. You’re wasting opportunities right and left.”
I cringe when she says knocked up. “Shit. I forgot to tell you. We didn’t use a condom. He wasn’t freaked out at all. I need to get checked for everything under the sun now, don’t I?” A loud whack sounds in my ear from the other end. “What was that?”
“Sorry, dropped my phone. You’re telling me Mr. Hollywood didn’t wrap it up? Are you serious? That’s criminally stupid for a man in his position. Unless . . .” She trails off meaningfully.
“Unless what?”
“Maybe he wants you knocked up. Maybe he’s the one looking for a hold on you. For real. Long-term shit. You’re a catch, Greer.”
I shove my palm out into the air in front of me, even though Banner can’t see it. “Stop. Stop right there. We’re not talking about that possibility. I’m baby-proof and that’s not changing. He didn’t knock me up.”
“But you’ve fucked twice, no condom, and he didn’t freak out.”
“Mm-hmm. That’s what I said.”
Silence hangs on the line for a few beats. “That’s just weird. It’s like Famous Dude 101 to ward off the gold diggers.”
“That’s what I told him!” My hand flails wildly, and I’m happy no one is here to see my crazy gestures.
“And?”
“He really wasn’t concerned.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I bet his agent would be concerned . . . or maybe not, because you’ve already got plenty of money and there’s no way you’re after his. I guess that makes you the safest chick out there to come in.”
I scrunch up my face. “Ugh. I’m done with this conversation.”
“Maybe you should start drinking. That’s when the interesting stuff happens.”
“It’s noon.”
“Which isn’t too early to talk about whether or not you’re going to let him pop that last cherry.”
Banner’s been selling me on anal sex since prep school. I think part of me has been holding out this long just because she’s been equal parts blasé and overly gung ho about it. When Tristan brought it up casually, I shut him down completely. Even then, I think I knew I couldn’t trust him with every part of me. And I don’t care what anyone says, letting someone put something in your out hole takes a hell of a lot of trust.
“Look, Greer. You’re a catch—the shit, if you will. If you’re finally going to take the D up the B, it needs to be a good and memorable experience. Chances are Cav Westman
is used to having women throw every part of their bodies at him, so he’s got what it takes to make this good for you. And if it sucks, when we’re old ladies rolling around in our scooters wearing velour tracksuits, we’ll be reliving the time you got butt-fucked by a movie star. There’s virtually no downside here.”
Tears trickle down my cheeks as laughter racks my body. “Wow, B. I don’t even—”
“Just say you’re going for it and you’ll give me all the dirty—pun intended—details after the deed is done.”
“I’m making no promises on the former, but if I go for it, you’ll definitely get the latter.”
“Deal.”
The next call I receive isn’t nearly so entertaining.
“Greer, what the hell is going on?”
Creighton’s harsh tone surprises me. I thought we were all good finally.
“Well, hello to you too, Crey. How’s life on the road?”
“Have you seen yourself on damn near every gossip site out there this morning?”
“Actually, I haven’t.” And I’m surprised Banner hasn’t seen them or mentioned them either. But then again, she’s working her tail off today, and other than our little lunchtime chat, she’s swamped at work.
“My entire PR team was already working overtime to try to crush the ad, and now they’re bombarded with pictures of you and some actor. I need some goddamned details so they can spin it. Who the fuck is this guy to you?”
It’s a question I dreaded having to answer years ago because I knew Creighton would never understand dating someone so far outside our social circle. Before Holly, at least. I stick to the truth as much as I can.
“He’s an old friend. We met when I was at Columbia.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
“Because you were happily minding your own business and letting me live my own life.”
A deep sound of frustration comes through the line. “And now your stunts are impacting my life and my business, Greer. I thought you understood that. Investor confidence is taking another hit with this stuff.”