by Eve Langlais
I barely registered the walk to my place. I floated, my body on fire and aching. My breasts heavy and tender. My pussy soaking and so ready for his cock I thought I would die if we didn’t get there fast.
It seemed I wasn’t the only eager one. We’d no sooner entered my elevator and pressed the button for the seventh floor than he pinned me to the wall, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, his body flush against mine. The hardness of his arousal ground against me, titillating evidence of his attraction for me. Did I forget to mention its sizable nature?
We made out in the elevator like frantic teenagers, groping and kissing with wild abandon.
The cab dinged and the doors slid open. Another ten seconds and I would have probably had my thighs wrapped around his waist. Stupid modern elevator. If I’d not feared getting caught, I would have slapped the close button and given in to my fantasy.
Down the hall we glided to my apartment. I fumbled with my key. His cool hand covered mine and guided the stupid metal thing home. With a click, we were in and the door had barely slammed shut before buttons went flying.
Normally, I embarked upon sex with a practical nature. Have a few drinks. Neck a little. Find a bed or a car. Get undressed then do the bump and grind until my little O came along.
Yeah. Apparently, I’d been missing out.
What flared between Anthony and I didn’t want to wait. It didn’t care that my hundred dollar blouse—bought on a clearance rack for a discounted $19.95—got torn from my body with a ripping sound that just titillated me further.
My eager fingers gripped his shirt, which probably cost more than I made in a week, and tore it open, the satisfying ping of buttons feeding some unholy savage inside me.
In record time, we stood naked amongst the rags of our clothes and, dear gawd, he lifted me. Me! The six-foot-tall Amazon whom universities had courted, begging to play on their basketball team.
He hoisted me as if I were light as a feather, slamming my back against the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to show he meant business.
Incredibly hot. As if my wet pussy needed any more encouragement.
He kept his mouth latched to mine as he pushed his body between my thighs and I wrapped my legs around his waist and eagerly pulled him to me. And missed his damned cock.
Swollen and hard, it rubbed across my wet pussy, not where I wanted it.
Inside me.
I groaned against his lips.
“Looking for something?” he teased, the gyration of his hips seesawing his shaft against my sensitized flesh.
“Keep doing that and I won’t,” I gasped, digging my fingers into the muscles of his shoulders. It seemed Mr. DA hid a nicely toned physique inside those designer suits. Pale in color didn’t mean he neglected his body. Not that I’d had time to admire it much before he’d pinned me to the wall—a fantasy come to life.
“We can’t have that now, can we?” he murmured. Pulling back, he thrust his dick home, and by home, I meant he drove it into me. A powerful stroke. A deep penetration. Oh, how he stretched me nicely.
Back went my head as I savored the way he filled me. I’d gone without a real man much too long, which made his slow in-and-out movement that much more maddening. I didn’t want a languorous ride to the top. I wanted him to fuck me.
I urged him on. “Faster. Give it to me. Don’t hold back.”
Not all men could handle a woman giving them directions during sex; some whined it distracted them. Some got performance anxiety.
Not Anthony. I asked for more and he gave it to me. My gawd, did he give it to me. Held up by his hands and the wall, such a novel position, he pistoned me, his cock pounding my willing pussy, striking my sweet spot with each and every stroke.
I fucking loved it.
Wanton and wild in his grasp, I showed him my pleasure by clawing at his back, his shoulders, anything I could get my sharp fingernails on. My breathing turned harsh, the sounds coming from me a cross between a moan and a high-pitched scream. He buried his face in the hollow where my neck meets my shoulder and he sucked the tender flesh there, just another sensation to add to the pile already driving me wild.
My body tensed and coiled and the muscles in my channel gripped him tight, forming a suction he had to fight against with each stroke, pushing and shoving.
It was freaking fantastic. It also tipped me over the edge.
I came first with a scream that I hoped the neighbors didn’t mistake for a cry of help. Not that I could have stopped it. The orgasm sweeping through me demanded acclaim.
Anthony proved more restrained. With his mouth still buried in my skin, he thrust a few more times before his body pulsed. Instead of yelling, he pinched the skin of my neck as he bit down, not that I cared in that moment, not with my own climax still rendering me limp as a rag doll.
I don’t know how long we stood there, him sucking on the sore spot he’d bitten, me panting, trying to regain my breath, our bodies intimately joined.
Then it hit me.
Shit. “You forgot to use a condom!”
And I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so caught up I didn’t remember. Pregnancy didn’t worry me. I took my pill religiously. But, who knew what icky germs my seducer carried?
He gave a final lick to my neck before lifting his head to stare at me. “I’m clean.”
“Says you.”
“Says my last medical check-up.”
“And how long ago was that? Also, how many women have you slept with since?” I showed no quarter.
I’ll admit, I didn’t say it nicely. STDs were a fact of life and I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so caught up in the moment I’d forgotten to keep myself safe.
“I was declared medically sound not even three months ago and I haven’t slept with anyone in over five months since I broke up with my girlfriend. What about you? Should I be concerned?”
Of course he’d flip it around and try to make me feel guilty. Never mind he was justified in questioning me back. As a woman, I held tight to my right to irrationality, especially since I didn’t understand how things had gotten so out of control in the first place.
Tone indignant, I answered, “On the pill and clean as a whistle.” An expression I didn’t get. I mean, whistles were things you blew in and covered with spit, which meant bacteria. Wouldn’t a better saying involve soap?
“No lovers or boyfriends I need to worry about either?” He arched a brow as he put me through the inquisition.
I scowled. “I do not sleep around.” Which given I still had my legs wrapped around his waist might seem kind of hard to believe. “I don’t usually do things like this.”
“Like what?” he asked, his lips curved in a slight mockery of a smile.
“Take guys home and screw them without even a first date.” When flustered, I resorted to bold language, and lies.
I did believe in one-night stands, so long as a thick layer of latex was involved and I could sneak out before they woke up.
He laughed. “I feel honored.”
“You should.”
“Is there any way I can thank you?”
Good thing he didn’t use the naughty grin he tossed me when we battled in court. I would have probably declared my clients guilty myself just before I tackled Anthony to the ground to have my wicked way.
“What were you thinking?”
“How big is your shower?” Anthony cocked a brow at me and threw me a slow, sexy grin that made me immediately horny. He let my body down slowly, a sensual glide of skin on skin that sent a shiver through me. As he turned and walked to my bathroom, I licked my lips at the view of his taut buttocks. Yuuuummmy.
My body thrummed with anticipation as I followed and I crossed my fingers, praying to whichever sex god was listening that my shower and tub were big enough to fuck in. With our almost matching heights, the pair of us took up a lot of space. Sex in the tight confines of my shower could prove challenging. But I was still willing to try.
Anthony alre
ady had the water streaming and stood under the spray when I entered. I took a moment to admire the view through the glass door, thanking the fact I’d opted against the frosted version.
Good grief, he was so sexy, even more so with water glistening over his toned flesh. I swear he did it on purpose to tease me, especially when he grabbed the soap and lathered himself, his hand closing around his semi-erect cock, sliding back and forth in a manner that seemed more pleasurable than cleansing.
My mouth watered. I knew what I wanted for a snack. In I stepped, my hands using his chest to steady myself, a cheap excuse to touch him. His lips quirked in amusement.
“Your shower isn’t as big as expected.”
“Big enough for what I have planned.” I slid my hands down from his pecs, palm flat, fingers spread, feeling the heat of his skin and his rapidly thudding heart. His nipples puckered, begging for a nibble. I leaned forward so I could bite one lightly. He sucked in a breath and it was my turn to smile wickedly. I played with his chest, alternating between sucking his little nubs and rubbing my cheek against his slick skin. I might have teased him for a while, but something kept poking me in the belly, something hard and demanding.
Apparently, his cock wanted some attention too. I was more than happy to comply. I dropped to my knees and brought myself eye level with his shaft. Despite our recent coupling, there was nothing semi or soft about it now. I reached out a hand to stroke it lightly and it jerked in response. I peeked up and saw Anthony gazing down at me, his blue eyes seeming alight from within.
My lips curved into a wanton smile as I touched him again. This time, I wrapped my hands tight around his length. Back went his head, a hitching sigh leaving him. Pleased at his response, I pumped his rigid cock, back and forth. The thickness and length of it tempted me. Out flicked my tongue to lave the head, already swollen and blushing with color. Fingers tangled in my hair as Anthony shuddered under my ministrations. Gawd, I loved how he responded and how he groaned, a long low rumble and then a bark of pleasure as I finally took him into my mouth.
The fingers in my hair tightened, a little tug of pain that excited me. Deeper I took him into the warm recess of my mouth as my hand reached up to fondle his heavy sac. I fucked him with my mouth, taking him in and out, the slick length of him grazing my teeth. With his fingers still entwined in my hair, he aided me, thrusting his hips in time to my oral cadence.
In the past, I’d sucked guys; it was kind of expected, but frankly boring for me. Those guys weren’t Anthony. For the first time, I realized that the pleasure of the act could go two ways. With him, I didn’t do it because I had to. I did it because I wanted to. Needed to taste him. Needed him to lose his mind like he had made me lose mine. And oh, he did not disappoint. The guttural sounds he uttered, the way his cock jerked and pulsed in my mouth… Damn did it excite me.
Using my free hand, I stroked myself, my pussy wet not just from the shower but from arousal. I would have happily sucked him to completion and probably come on my hand, but he abruptly pulled his cock from my mouth with a wet pop.
“I wasn’t done,” I protested.
“Good, because neither was I,” was his reply. He yanked me upright then turned me so I faced away. A hand in the middle of my back pushed me over so that I presented my buttocks to him. Understanding his plan, I braced my hands on the shower wall just in time for his first deep thrust.
I just about expired of pleasure on the spot. Thankfully, I didn’t because the best was yet to come.
Despite my tight shower, he managed to fuck me, his throbbing cock driving hard and deep, each stroke leaving me panting and climbing a peak toward ecstasy.
“Harder,” I begged. Then, “Faster.” Each time he complied, and soon I couldn’t speak, so ragged was my breath. But I had enough air to scream when my orgasm finally hit.
“Dear fucking gawd!” Not that there was anything holy about the carnal bliss roaring through my pussy. Whatever mighty power he’d used to sate me, it left me boneless and happy, enough that I let him carry me, cradled in his arms, my body dripping wet onto my fine Egyptian sheets. But I didn’t really care, not when my body hummed so happily. And later, my usually sacrosanct sheets got a workout too.
3
Waking up the next morning, alone, my first thought was what an oddly erotic dream. And involving Anthony of all people.
Then I caught the lingering scent of cologne, took note of my sticky skin and pleasantly sore pussy, and bolted upright in bed with a shrieked, “Oh fuck me, I didn’t.”
Yet I had. I’d screwed my nemesis. And not just screwed. I’d indulged in amazing, pulse-pounding, sweaty, hardcore sex, the kind I’d read about but never experienced—until now. On the wall, in my shower, in my bed.
Three times we’d done it!
It was a freaking record for me. Usually I managed a one or two-hit wonder. The man must have had some magic in his dick; he certainly did in his tongue, because he’d not even had to work me too long to get me to orgasm so many times. Yay for me.
Reality slapped me and she wasn’t gentle about it.
Did the most amazing sexual experience of my life have to be with him? I hated him. Loathed him and everything he stood for. Or did I?
I analyzed my feelings in regards to Anthony—forget relegating him back to Mr. Vanderson status. I’d seen his penis. It seemed kind of dumb to pretend a distance that no longer existed.
Back to the hating thing? Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the total asshat I’d painted him to be. Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t state that I liked him. In spite of his prowess when it came to playing my body, the burning annoyance that he constantly bested me in court still existed. My general dislike of his arrogant airs and his luck in front of a judge hadn’t diminished. The only thing that changed—other than knowing what his dick looked like and could do—was now I not only resented his luck in the courtroom, I wanted to ride him like a cowgirl, maybe hit him with a riding crop and yell, “Giddy up!”
What is wrong with me?
If I believed in magic, I’d swear he put a spell on me.
Or drugged me!
No way. A man with his appearance wouldn’t have to resort to chemicals to get a woman to fuck him. Or would he? Was that how he got his kicks?
Springing from bed, I dashed to the bathroom and checked myself out in the mirror.
Yikes. Hello, morning-after hair. It stuck up all over the place. I resembled the poster child for why conditioner existed. Good thing Anthony hadn’t stuck around. I’d have given him ample evidence for a case to never see me again. However, my hair wasn’t what needed examination. Leaning in, I peered at myself.
My eyes appeared clear. Not even a touch bloodshot. My head felt fine, even when I shook it and swung it around like a groupie at a head-banging concert.
No blank spots seemed to exist in my memories. I remembered every decadent moment of last night. As for my body…it hummed happily. A little sore between the thighs from our enthusiastic coupling, but the good kind. Other than the tenderness, the only sign of the previous evening’s aberration was a red mark on my neck where Mr. DA got a little enthusiastic with his sucking.
“The jerk gave me a hickey.” This, even more than the sex with my nemesis, irritated me.
Now I could just imagine what some people would think at this point. Half would call me a sex-crazed slut. But those who knew me, who knew how I abhorred Anthony and liked to remain in control, would call the whole thing suspicious. Totally out of character. He must have slipped me something. What, though? Or the better question, when?
I racked my brain, replaying the previous evening’s chain of events. No matter how many times I ran them by, even in slow motion, I just couldn’t see a moment when he’d had a chance to slip me something.
I’d drunk my first cocktail before his arrival. And, while I’d chugged half my second, which he’d ordered for me, I’d had my eyes on it from the moment Liam made it until it hit my lips. Unless rich boy could move faster
than light, I couldn’t blame drugs.
Damn it. One look into his mesmerizing blue eyes and I had succumbed. It appeared I had only myself to blame for my slutty actions.
That wouldn’t do.
I chose to blame Anthony. Somehow, someway, this was his fault. Him and his good looks, sexy suits, and…and…whatever else he possessed that had rendered me so horny—and given me the most intense orgasms of my life.
At least he’d had the good sense to leave before I woke. I don’t know what I would have done had I opened my eyes to see his face on the pillow alongside mine.
Screamed possibly.
Slapped him.
Or looped my leg over his and drawn him in for a good morning tussle.
Yes, I still disliked the man on principle; however, all I had to do was picture his pale body poised over mine, his hips thrusting, his gaze intent, and my nipples hardened while my pussy gave a happy shudder.
Damn him for giving me great sex, and worse, for making me crave more.
At least I wouldn’t have to face him anytime soon. I didn’t have any court cases scheduled next week or the week after against him. Thank freaking gawd. It would give me time to brace myself for when I eventually needed to come up against him in a courtroom.
Or was seduction part of his master plan? Get me in the sack and fuck me silly so that the next time he had to deal with me in front of the judge, I’d remember him naked. Flustered, I’d throw my case and give him victory. A great theory except for the fact that I never won!
Enough of the Saturday morning regrets. I couldn’t change last night. I could just bury it deep in my subconscious and hope I never had to face him again. I might have to move. I wondered if Alaska needed any lawyers.
Flopping back onto my bed, I buried my face in my pillow, looking to catch a few more hours of sleep. The shrill ring of my phone messed with my plan. Scrambling through my clothes—the shredded remains, which made me sob—I located my hidden purse. I dug my pink bedazzled smartphone out and answered it.