He Touches Me

by Cynthia Sax

  I close the box I’m working on and slip the envelope of cash into my black faux leather tote. “You pay me too much for this job.” I clasp the tote tightly as we walk to the bank of elevators, my flat black shoes making no sound on the plush gray carpet.

  Blaine shrugs his broad shoulders. “Fran decided upon your wages.” He presses the button and doors open immediately as though the elevator has been waiting for us. I enter the mirrored car first and Blaine follows, pushing P1 for the parking garage.

  He stands close to me, too close for a simple CEO-employee relationship. The sandalwood and musk of his cologne teases my nostrils. His body heat encircles me, warming me all over.

  Blaine is powerful, a man in his prime, at the top of his game, and a tremor of excitement rolls over me. He has promised to take me in the elevator. Is tonight the night? I stroke the silver railing back and forth, back and forth, the metal cool under my fingers, and I picture clearly how I’ll please him.

  I’ll suck his cock first, easing some of his desire, allowing him to regain control, to resist taking me completely, my billionaire CEO respecting my boundaries more than I do. I’m a virgin, having never trusted a man enough to let him inside me. I peek up at Blaine’s stern face. I might, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe never, trust him enough.

  But now, at this moment, I’ll drop to my knees before him and unzip his pants. Blaine will watch me, his emotions concealed behind the blank mask he wears with others, his hands clenched behind his back. He won’t touch me, he doesn’t dare, fearing loss of his renowned control. He’ll allow me to service him and I will service him, with passion, with caring.

  His crisp white cotton boxer shorts and black pants will drop to his ankles, revealing his hard cock. I lick my lips, the taste of him lingering in my mouth. I’ll close my fingers around his base, holding him as I rub my lips over his smooth tip. A bead of pre-cum will form on his slit and I’ll lave him with the flat of my tongue. I’ll see, via the mirror, his ass cheeks clench, his ironclad restraint tested by my touch.

  “Not here,” Blaine rumbles, shaking me from my reverie.

  I glance up at him, not surprised he’s read my naughty thoughts. He has always been able to read me, to see me. He is the only person who ever has.

  Blaine’s eyes are dark and his body is coiled, lowered, as though readying to pounce, heavy waves of warmth rolling off his muscular physique. A connection pulses between us, an awareness, both sexual and spiritual.

  “And not now?” My voice is husky. I lick my lips again.

  His gaze tracks the movement. “Not now,” Blaine agrees, leaning into me. I submit to him, tilting my head back, my frizzy hair cascading down my back, the tendrils sweeping my suit-covered ass. We remain locked in this position, his dominance exciting me.

  The elevator bell rings and the doors open, cooler air blasting us back to reality. Blaine exits first, holding the elevator doors open for me. His sleek black limousine idles nearby.

  “Mr. Blaine. Miss Sampson.” Ted, his driver, opens the back door. He’s clad in a black suit, white shirt, black skinny tie, black cap, and there’s a knowing glint in his brown eyes.

  Blaine and I have used the limousine for encounters before and Ted has watched us. Yesterday, he saw me completely naked, heard me cry out with fulfillment as Blaine ravished my pussy with his rough, coarse fingers. I shiver, my sexual needs escalating.

  “Did you pick up the suits from Fran?” Blaine pauses before the luxurious vehicle. He flattens one of his hands on the small of my back, his touch possessive and reassuring, his ownership of my body clear.

  “Yes, sir.” Ted bobs his head, his expression as blank as his boss’s. “They’re in the backseat as you instructed, Mr. Blaine.”

  I climb into the vehicle, breathing in the interior’s new car smell, and I claim the seat facing the driver, placing my tote on the black carpet. A garment bag hangs against the heavily tinted windows. A mysterious black shopping bag rests against the interior wall.

  Blaine sits across from me, stretching his long legs out. The door closes and the lights slightly dim. There’s a jolt followed by a vibration under my ass. We’re moving.

  Blaine watches me, his gaze as soft and as heated as a caress, and I watch him. He appears ruthlessly hard, honed from stone, but I know he can be hurt. He’s shown me the scars on his body, the vulnerability in his soul.

  He flips his hands over, revealing his lined palms. “Here, Anna.” Blaine’s eyes gleam, the angles in his face growing more pronounced.

  He’ll touch me here in the limousine. My toes curl inside my black flat-heeled shoes. I slowly unbutton my navy blue and lavender stripe blazer, one piece of the vintage Chanel suit Fran, my boss, has given me.

  Rolling my shoulders, I teasingly lower the garment, revealing my pale skin, reveling in the power I have over the men, both men. I’m not only stripping for Blaine. The partition between the driver and us is lowered. Ted also watches me.

  Will Blaine allow him to do more than watch tonight? I hesitate, my fingers fluttering over my blazer’s lion buttons, doubts dousing my desire. I don’t want another man touching me. I only feel safe and beautiful and cherished with Blaine.

  “I chose here because having an audience excites you.” Blaine tilts his head toward the lowered partition. “It excites me also but I won’t put you at risk, not now, not ever. I’ll control who watches us, where they watch, and what they watch. No one will ever touch or hurt you.”

  “Thank you.” My desire flares once more, rekindled by his vow, a vow I know he’ll keep. I drop the blazer onto the seat and cool air grazes over my collarbone.

  Blaine is right. Having an audience excites me. I pull my black tank top over my head, mussing my hair and revealing my pretty white bra, the shell-shaped cups barely concealing my small breasts.

  What will Ted watch tonight? I skim my fingers over the delicate cotton. Will Blaine take my virginity? I pinch my nipples through the fabric, the sharp pain thrilling me. Am I ready for this step, to have him completely inside me, to trust him this much?

  I run my hands over my bra, squeezing and lifting, toying with my two men and with myself. Blaine shifts in his seat, his dress pants tented around an impressively large erection. He wants to be inside me and I do trust him, more than I trust anyone, more than I trust myself.

  I wiggle out of my a-line skirt. Is this level of trust enough? I brush my fingers over the soft cotton panties, caressing, teasing myself. The fabric is wet, slicked with my juices. Can I do this?

  “Show me everything, nymph,” Blaine orders.

  I unhook my bra, freeing my breasts, my nipples taut. The gold key giving me access to Blaine’s backyard dangles between my breasts, its black ribbon looping around my neck.

  Blaine gazes at me, his eyes glowing with an admiration I now believe in. He loves my body, my slight curves, the full triangle of closely cropped brown curls over my mons.

  I pull my panties down and spread my legs, shamelessly allowing him to look at me, all of me. My pink pussy lips glisten with moisture. Ted is looking at me also, perusing skin he’ll never touch.

  “Beautiful.” Blaine sinks to his knees before me, humbling himself, and I tremble, tilting my ass up, opening wider for him. He brushes his scarred knuckles over my knees and up my inner thighs, his caress gentle, almost reverent.

  “You’re wet for me.” His grim lips curl into a smug smile.

  “I’m always wet for you.” I place my palms over my breasts, gripping them and releasing, fondling myself into a frenzy. “Only for you.”

  Blaine strokes my pussy up and down, up and down, drawing more moisture from my core, more tremors from my body. I pinch my nipples to his rhythm, edging the pleasure with pain.

  He leans forward, his dark head positioned between my pale thighs, his hard angles wedged between my soft curves, our visual contrasts stimulating me. “You smell delicious.” His hot breath wafts on my skin, his mouth close, so close to that aching part of me.
“How do you taste?”

  My breath hitches and I still, the tension in my body snapping tight. Blaine meets my gaze and holds it as he extends his tongue, drawing nearer, nearer, nearer, moving slowly, too slowly. I need him—

  He taps my clit with his tongue and I cry out, lifting my hips. Desire surges along my legs, courses up my chest, heating every inch of me.

  “Easy.” Blaine cups my ass, restraining, controlling, my wiggling body, his rough touch exciting me. My form is no longer my own. My responses belong to him.

  I squirm, lifting my gaze over his shoulder, seeing the driver’s brown hair through the partition. In my fantasy he’s watching me through the rearview mirror, wanting me, his cock hard.

  Blaine licks me from ass to clit with his flat, hot, wet tongue, and my fantasy dissipates, replaced by an even more exquisite reality. “Delicious.” He smacks his lips, his green eyes glowing with a heartwarming sincerity, and I quiver in his hands.

  “Please.” I ask him for more, not knowing what this more is, having progressed past my limited realm of experience.

  Blaine lowers his head and mouths over my folds, rubbing his nose against my clit. I squirm and writhe as he licks and laves my sensitive flesh. A rumble of appreciation rolls up his chest as he eats me out with a gratifying gusto, as though he’s never tasted anything as delectable as my pussy.

  I thread my fingers through his black hair, freeing his rebellious locks. The strands fall over his forehead and I tighten my hold on his beloved scalp, Blaine being my constant in this unreliable world. With him, I don’t have to worry about being judged, being found wanting. He knows my father died in prison and my mother abandoned me, and he sees strength in my survival. He loves my body and laughs at my antics. He thinks I’m delicious.

  Blaine kisses and nips my pussy, his love bites varying from soothing and light to fierce and sharp, keeping me thrillingly off balance. I moan, swishing my ass, unable to keep still.

  He growls, his lips humming against my folds, and he grips me tighter, his animalistic sounds exhilarating. I am woman. I am powerful and his, having the ability to strain his control.

  Blaine probes my entrance with his tongue, sliding his flesh along mine, and I arch, the experience unlike any I’ve ever known. I’ve filled my pussy with my fingers, his fingers, a hard marble dildo, but never a tongue and never Blaine’s tongue. He thrusts deeper and deeper inside me, pressing his nose against my clit, pushing his chin against me.

  “Yes, Blaine. Yes.” I pump my hips, pulling him into me, beating my pussy against his lips, and he kneads my ass, coaxing me faster, harder, wilder. My juices smatter his tanned cheeks as I slap and grind against his face.

  Blaine strokes inside me, flicks my clit, strokes and flicks, strokes and flicks. Tremors rock my body. My ass cheeks shake in his big palms. I dig my short, blunt fingernails into his scalp, branding him as he brands me.

  He ravishes my pussy, strumming me with his tongue, his renowned focus fixed on me and only me. It is a heady feeling, more intoxicating than the strongest alcohol.

  “Blaine?” I’m close, so close, primed by my fantasies and the endless waiting, wanting, needing.

  “Come for me, Anna.” His lips vibrate against my folds, his words felt in my soul. “Come for me. Now.” Blaine fixes his hot mouth over my clit and sucks.

  I scream, driving upward, my ass leaving the leather seat, and my darkness bursts into vivid color as I plunge head first into a pool of pleasure, waves of warmth, of satisfaction washing over me. I cling to Blaine and he clasps me as securely, his lips on my pussy and his fingers under me.

  I float, euphoric, my body limp and my limbs heavy. Blaine licks and sucks, draining the moisture from my pussy, cleaning me carefully, thoroughly.

  “That was wonderful.” I repeat the first words I’ve ever said to him.

  “I agree.” Blaine brushes his lips against mine and I taste myself. “That was wonderful, natural and real.”

  He remembers his reply to me. I blink back tears, a warmth spreading over my chest. Before meeting Blaine, I was invisible, but he sees me. He listens to me. He remembers.

  “This is real.” He grips my nape and leans his forehead against mine. The tips of our noses touch, and his breath rushes over my lips. Specks of moisture glisten on his tanned skin. I slide my hands between his jacket and his cotton shirt. I’m naked and he’s fully dressed.

  I swivel my hips. He’s also hard, the ridge in his dress pants large and unyielding. I push against him.

  Blaine groans and pulls away, returning to the seat across from me. My legs are parted, my body bare and exposed. I glance at the partition. The driver continues to look straight ahead. He must have heard me scream, must have watched me as I came. Did he come too? Are his pants splattered with his essence? Another tremor rolls over me, a poignant echo of the pleasure I’ve experienced.

  “How do you feel, nymph?” Blaine asks, his eyelids partially lowered, a small smile curling his lips.

  “Cherished.” I smile back at him. “And I wish for you to feel the same way.” I lower my gaze to his groin. His black dress pants are pulled tightly over his unabated erection. “Tell me what you need.” He satisfied me and I will now satisfy him.

  About the Author

  CYNTHIA SAX 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.

  Please visit her on the web at www.CynthiaSax.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Also by Cynthia Sax

  He Watches Me

  He Claims Me

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Excerpt from He Claims Me copyright © 2013 by Cynthia Sax.

  HE TOUCHES ME. Copyright © 2013 by Cynthia Sax. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub Edition JULY 2013 ISBN: 9780062300324

  Print Edition ISBN: 9780062300331

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