Easy

by Donna Alam

  ‘I’ll bet no one ever ate you out in a conference room, either.’

  Her cheeks flush, her hands opening and closing on the fabric of her dress, prompting me to honesty.

  ‘Sadie, I’m sorry for not telling you the truth. Sorry if I hurt you. But there’s something about playacting. Something about taking on a role that’s hard to explain.’

  ‘No. I think I get it,’ she says quietly, still refusing to look at me. She doesn’t truly get it, but she will. ‘It doesn’t matter how fine your life is; sometimes, it’s good to be someone else, for at least a little while.’

  Of course, she came to London, to escape whatever—shitty boyfriends, an unsatisfying job? Maybe just to feel—to experience.

  ‘I’m glad you understand.’ My words are quiet, my tone a little hoarse. ‘What we have, I think, is both real and pretend. Real for the attraction, pretend for the length of time we have to experience it.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘And I don’t want to waste any more time. I like you, Sadie. Maybe we could do with some ground rules. You tell me what you want, and I’ll try to give it to you.’

  ‘What about you?’ Her head swings to mine. ‘What’s in this for you?’

  ‘What do you think?’ As the cars in front slow to a stop, I take the opportunity to let my gaze make a slow perusal of her body. ‘You,’ I answer simply. ‘I get you. Because, despite my teasing, I want you more than I can remember ever wanting anything.’

  ‘Where are you going with this?’

  ‘All kind of places and in all kinds of ways. But for now, you can just spread your legs for me.’

  ‘Sure.’ One little word, so much scorn. ‘That’s all men ever want, until they don’t anymore.’

  ‘Spread your legs, Sadie. Not figuratively.’ I keep my voice even, my tone smooth, and my eyes on the road. ‘It’s not so hard to let your knees fall open.’

  ‘Y-you mean, now?

  ‘Yeah, for starters.’ I palm my half hard cock. ‘Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? The anger in your eyes and the pulse jumping in your throat. My cock is the rock, and this car the fucking hard place. I’m desperate to get you home.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse so much.’

  ‘Stick around, plum. My dirty talk will rock your world.’

  The car falls silent but for the sound of her rapid breathing over the patter of rain and the glide of the wipers, the cloudy afternoon wrappings us in its shroud.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Sadie presses her lips together, rolling them inwards and running them together as though contemplating a response. But I know I’ve got her. I can tell by the way her nipples poke through her bra and her dress. It’s not just the rain and cool air that has them standing stiff.

  I slide my hand over to her knee, and she allows me to guide them apart. Then, in an action reminiscent of our first night, I gather the fabric, pulling it up her creamy thighs.

  ‘There, that’s better,’ I murmur, my eyes flicking to her knickers then back to the road. Pink and girlish. A white lace trim around the edges. ‘You know what would be even better still?’ I state as though suggesting something mundane. I turn my head briefly, our gazes connecting with a spark. ‘If you slipped your knickers off.’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ The words escape with a soft yet disbelieving laugh. ‘But you go first.’

  A confident smile plays on her lips. She thinks she’s got me; how on earth would I be able to remove my boxers from behind the wheel of my car.

  ‘Is that a deal?’ I ask, and she’s already nodding her head as I reach one handed for my button fly, already straining weighty and thick.

  A sharp intake of breath. ‘You can’t mean to . . . ’ Her eyes glued to my fingers as I pop button after button. ‘Not while you’re driving.’

  ‘A deal’s a deal,’ I reply, flicking the last button before peeling the sides of my jeans apart just enough to free my cock from the confines of the denim, sans underwear.

  Her eyes darken, her neck moving as she swallows. ‘You cheated,’ she whispers. And I love the way she looks at me, like she doesn’t know whether she wants to kill me or fuck me. ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Life rarely is.’ The words sound rough because life is rough, and because my need is fierce. I ghost my fingers up the length of my cock, taking it into my hand and beginning to stroke it slowly. ‘Now. Take. Your. Knickers. Off.’

  Looking now resolutely ahead, Sadie slips her fingers under the waist of her dress, and lifting her bottom, she slides the scrap of pink down her legs. They tangle at her feet, though she manages to slip them off. She places them primly on her lap, pulling her dress down.

  ‘No, sweetheart.’ I place my hand on her thigh. ‘Open your thighs.’

  Her hands fall from straightening, her groan of embarrassment taking on a note of carnality as I curl my fingers around her knee, spreading her apart.

  ‘You’re soaked, aren’t you?’

  ‘It’s been raining,’ she taunts. ‘Haven’t you noticed?’

  ‘Only a little.’ I hiss as I squeeze the head of my cock, rubbing my fingers through the pearly bead at the tip. ‘Only enough to want to lick the rain from your skin.’

  ‘You shouldn’t say things like that,’ she whispers, watching me touch myself.

  ‘I thought you preferred the truth.’

  ‘I do,’ she groans as I lift my hand to the wheel. Safety first, and we’re coming to a sharp turn.

  ‘I can see you want me. Want to feel me inside you. Have you ever had an uncut cock in your mouth, Sadie?’ My gaze slides briefly over, but she’s not looking at me. At least, not at my face. ‘I can smell how wet you are. Taste your need and arousal in the air.’

  ‘Please, Will.’

  ‘You’re as sexy as all fuck when you come. Did you know that? Those sweet little mewls and curses you mutter. And let me tell you, your cunt tastes like heaven. I’m going to visit that sweetness again, just as soon as I can get you home. How’s that for the truth? How does that suit you, plum?’ But I’m not done. ‘Let me tell you, if it wasn’t daytime, I’d pull over and shove my fingers inside you so hard, you’d feel like they were coming out of your throat. I’d bury my face between your legs and lick you from clit to tailbone. And then when I finished, and you were melted the fuck all over the leather seats, I’d rub your wetness all over my face and wear your scent like fucking cologne.’

  Her next breath is more sigh than anything else, and she arches her body as though seeking relief. I lower my hand again, fisting it tight, praying to all that is holy that I can maintain an ounce of restraint.

  ‘Touch yourself.’ The command sounds hoarse in the tight confines of the car. ‘Lift your dress so I can watch as you get yourself off.’

  She glances at the windows—the side, then the front—weighing up the glass tint as a means for privacy as unease flickers across her face.

  ‘No one will see but me. The windows are tinted, and it’s dark outside. Wet. Just like you are.’ Her eyes flick to the fist I have wrapped around my dick. ‘Show me how you like to touch yourself.’

  That she’d think about it is a kick; that she watches me as I slowly fuck my fist is like a jolt of electricity. But whether she’ll join in remains to be seen.

  As I pull up to a red light, her body stiffens, and she moves as though to pull her dress down. But then, in a fit of daring, she slides the seat back.

  Hiking her dress higher, she places one foot on the edge of the door pocket, letting her other knee fall to the side. One more look in my direction, and her eyes flutter close before she turns her head, slipping one finger between her legs.

  The sight of her pink painted fingertip between her darker pussy lips has my cock leaking in my fist. At the first swipe of her clit, her lips part, exhaling a short vowel sound.

  I blow out a curse as the light turns green. Pulling away, I keep one eye on the road and the other between her legs.


  ‘Fuck, Sadie. I can hear how wet you are.’ My cock throbs so badly as I squeeze it in my fist; the only sense of relief I’ll allow myself right now. Anything else will cause an accident. And you can take that either way.

  I’ve seen some sights in my life and taken part in some scenes of depravity, but never before have I watched something as hot as Sadie strumming the slickness between her legs.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she gasps, her back arching from the back rest as her fingers work harder, faster, her eyes opened now but unfocussed, all her concentration centred between her legs.

  With one final cry, the absolute intensity fills the car—the scent of her arousal. Her cries. Her absolute pleasure that I can almost taste in the air. All this, and I can’t touch her. And that thought drives me fucking wild.

  And not a moment too soon, we pull up to the ornate parking gate.

  I don’t think I’ve ever parked so rapidly in my life, and as I switch the engine off, the snap of her belt catches me by surprise. Lurching forward, Sadie’s fingers find my chest, the hot points of them searing my skin through my shirt.

  ‘I can’t believe I did that,’ she whispers, her lips ghosting over mine. ‘You make me so bad.’

  ‘You’re welcome—’ But before I have a chance to answer further, or to take her face in my hands, she drops her head into my lap.

  ‘Fuck!’ I exhale the harsh curse as her hot mouth engulfs my tip. ‘Fuck me.’

  This is a surprise—though the very best kind—and I’m unprepared for the action, never mind the intensity. My hips levitate of their own accord as I attempt to ram myself into her mouth.

  She hums as though in answer, sliding her wet lips down the length of my cock.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Sadie.’

  My head hits the back of my seat, and I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel as she works me. I could let her do this—finish in her hot little mouth. Spill myself down her throat until she chokes on the amount. But being the gentleman that I am, I pull the hair from her face, draping it over my fist as I watch the favourite part of my anatomy sliding in and out of puffy pink lips.

  Her eyes are closed, lashes half-moons of darkness against her flushed skin. I can do this, I tell myself as she swirls her tongue around my head. Fuck, but it’ll kill me.

  ‘Sadie, sweetheart. Let’s take this upstairs.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  SADIE

  ‘Oh, God.’

  The groan escapes me, husky and desperate, as Will presses his body against mine, pulsing into me and causing everything inside me to draw tight. Not that you’d be able to tell as my outer body goes the other way, turning to pure Jell-O.

  His hands lift from my hips to grasp the doorframe, his mouth working its magic on the skin of my neck.

  ‘Open the door, Miss Sadie.’ His voice is low and carries just the edge of a threat. ‘Open it quickly or someone’s going to get fucked in the hallway.’

  I wonder if it’s possible to orgasm from words alone—a spontaneous combustion, right here against the door. My hands tremble from the weight of desire between my legs, the bundle of keys he’d thrust into my hands rattling like bones as I fumble for the right one.

  Once wouldn’t hurt, could it? To get the chemicals out of our system because our attraction is purely chemical. I mean, I don’t even like him. Not really. It’s just dopamine and serotonin, estrogen reacting to testosterone . . . or something.

  I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, or my brain to catch up because sex without attachment isn’t me. Even for a vacation fling.

  But I might get a little attached. Just a smidge—I can’t help the way I’m wired. And attachments can be severed. Like when I go back home—or the next time Will opens his mouth.

  ‘Get out of your brain’, he growls, pulsing into me again. ‘I can think of other places you need to let me in.’ See?

  The rough stubble of his bristled chin abrades my skin so deliciously, the heat of his tongue following to soothe the burn.

  ‘Let me taste you again.’ Oh God. ‘Let me bury my fucking head between your legs.’

  God, yes! And hallelujah! The key turns in the lock. The door glides almost silently open, and with his hands on my hips, he moves me inside, kicking the door shut once we’re inside. As we move, I drop my bag and the keys . . . somewhere. Fuck, I don’t know. My brain isn’t currently computing anything but the feel and heat of him slipping into my bloodstream.

  ‘Take off your clothes.’ Nothing has ever sounded so persuasive, so utterly compelling, or so damned sexual. His hands are still tight on my hips as he moves me farther along the hallway, licking and biting my neck. ‘Let me finish what you started in the car.’

  ‘What I started—’ My head whips around, my tone incredulous, but his mouth steals the retort from my tongue. Literally. His lips cover mine so forcefully, my mind empties and my feet grind to a halt. His hand trails up my body, his long fingers pressing my jawline, pressing my face closer to his as he kisses me thoroughly. Kisses me hard. Licks the seam of my lips as his other hand finds my breast.

  ‘You’re shaking,’ he whispers as he pulls back; his blue eyes are languid with arousal, but he doesn’t let go. Not my lips nor my face. Not my nipple as he pinches it between the tips of his fingers. And the smile I feel he’s currently fighting? Recognition of his power over me.

  It’s been so long since anyone touched me. I’d forgotten how it felt to be held. From starved to a feast as a thought hits me: not only have I been celibate for three years, but I’ve also been starved for touch. If I had a moment to ponder, I might just get up and put my clothes back on, worried about the consequences, but as his mouth descends on my nipple, all thoughts of later turn to dust.

  ‘You’re shaking, darling. Because you want this.’

  As I hiss, ‘Yes,’ instead of pushing, his hold changes on my jaw, his thumb hooking under my chin to better grip me.

  ‘Then come and get this.’ I try to move my head forward—to press my lips to his, to kiss him—but I can’t. We’re so close, yet I can’t reach. ‘Just so we’re clear.’ His words are puffs of air across my wet lips. ‘I like to be in charge.’

  ‘Maybe I want to be on top.’ My breathing is ragged, and my tone a retort.

  ‘On top sounds good, but you’ll have to fight me for it.’ A glint of something—challenge or excitement—is luminous in the deep blue of his gaze. ‘And I fight dirty.’

  My face still in his hand, I turn, pressing my palms against him. But I don’t lean in to kiss him. Instead, I run my hands over the damp fabric of his shirt, feeling the ripple of his abs under the fabric. His nipples tightening under my fingertips, his warm breath caressing my face in a hiss as I graze them with my nails.

  Will’s hand moves from my jaw to my neck, wrapping my hair around his hand. With a yank that I feel between my legs, he pulls my head back to devour my lips, my neck, my jaw—nipping and kissing and licking until my legs feel weak and his hand in my hair is most likely the only thing holding me up.

  ‘I could drink wine from these collarbones.’ His lips press there, his words rough and rasping. ‘I could drink wine from your cunt.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ My whisper hits the air in a tremulous rush; all thoughts of fighting dissipate as he places his mouth over my dress-covered nipple. ‘I . . . I . . . want.’

  His mouth pulls away from the, no doubt, very wet patch of fabric, blowing a warm breath across the cooling space. ‘You want to suck my cock?’

  God, yes! ‘God, you’re so crass,’ I whisper instead, my pulse beating in places it has no business pounding.

  ‘And you’re still dressed. Take it the fuck off.’

  Without argument, my trembling fingers reach for the slippery white buttons at my chest, loosening them—one, two, three—managing to work them through the tiny holes. Will’s eyes never leave mine as I slip the dress from my shoulders, then reach around to unhook my bra.

  The air in the room is cool, the atmosphere sur
real. Or at least it would be if he wasn’t looking at me like he was. But I can’t help feeling the kick of desire at our relative states of dress. He’s still fully clothed while I’m naked. What does that say about our dynamic? Only, his eyes haven’t moved from my face—not once. Not to look at my nakedness. Not to leer or appreciate. It’s almost like he’s daring me to make the first move.

  And I do. Or I try, my hair still wrapped in his fist. A hold he uses to push me up against the wall.

  ‘Spread your legs,’ he demands in an echo of his demands in the car. ‘Open your legs and let me see this pretty plum pussy. Open your legs and show me what’s mine.’

  I arch into him as he slides his hand there, that first contact a barely there swipe followed by two fingers thrust in deep. I’m up on my toes immediately, my fingers gripping his shoulders as I seek to hang on. Hang onto him, onto this moment. Onto this wave of need.

  ‘That’s it. Fuck my hand. Ride it.’ Two fingers become three, his thumb swiping moisture against my clit before he starts to apply pressure to it—to play with it. To play with me.

  ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t remember your name.’ His fingers thrust mercilessly, his grip on my hair and my pussy pinning me in place. ‘But I won’t come inside you like you want me to. Like you’ll crave.’

  His dirty words and his rough attentions are enough to push me to the very edge. He lowers his mouth once again, his words curling around my ear, bursting like a supernova deep inside.

  I see stars . . . did I black out? Not likely as I can hear my own voice chanting and cursing his name. I sound like a cheap whore as I thrash between the wall and his hand. Never before have I been treated me so roughly, so satisfyingly dirty.

  And I love it.

  Who’d have thought I’d have this in me?

  ‘You’ll know when it’s in, sweet plum. Believe me.’

  I haven’t the wherewithal to care that he’s heard me.

  Will loosens his grip on my hair, and my pussy, and the wet sound of his fingers moving from inside me? I give no fucks.

  ‘That’s my fingers, my mouth. You know what comes next.’ With a wicked smile, he paints my arousal over my lips. ‘Lick,’ he taunts. ‘See how good you taste.’