“I’m going to bare your ass for anyone to see. Do you hear me?” Cool air assaults my flesh as my skirt flips up over my back. His nails rake the insides of my thighs and I part them wide, so, so desperate for his touch. The shameful pleasure washes over me again, as if I’m an ocean of lust, and the idea of someone seeing us—me—makes me as wet as Lake St. Clair.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I understand.”
Brent leans over me, his cock resting against my thigh with frustrating proximity. Quickly, I reach between us and run my hands over his length. He’s thick and long, but I can’t reach it all. He inhales a sharp breath and shifts a bit so I can explore all of him.
“Holy shit.” He’s big, huge. Intimidating. And I can’t wait. I squeeze and rub him through his trousers. He drops soft moans in between kisses along my neck and shoulder. My entire body is on fire, buzzing with electricity. I forget where we are.
It’s just the two of us and the most exquisite sensations I’ve ever had.
“Fuck!” He grabs my hip roughly and pulls me back. “This isn’t how I do this … fuck.”
The waver in his voice displays his struggle for control. What if he let loose? Fucked me like he wants to, right here?
The thought makes me moan. Slowly, he slips his fingers under my panties and slides them up until he palms my pussy. A sharp cry escapes me. It’s so perfect, God, it’s perfect. But not nearly enough. As if he knows exactly what I want, he stills, his touch a combination of pleasure and frustration.
“Please, please, please,” I whisper, leaning into his hand. My clit is throbbing and if he doesn’t do something right the fuck now, I’m going to. “You’re making me crazy.”
His lips touch my ear. “This isn’t how I normally do things, but I think we both need this right now, so I’m going to let it slide.” His voice is so formal and clipped, such an opposition to his wild, lustful body.
I have no idea what he’s talking about. Nor do I care. I writhe against him, so needy.
“Please touch me.”
“Are you trying to tell me what to do, Ms. Lundgren?” Brent presses his fingertips over my clit and I slap a hand over my mouth to hold back my cry.
“I just … I just need it. I need you.”
His hand is in my hair, pulling my head back with a gentle tug. At the same time, he slips two fingers into me, pumping them hard, once, twice. I buck against him, drowning in the feeling.
“Are you trying to challenge my control?” He finger fucks me harder, curving his fingers so they thrust against a sensitive spot deep inside. My body starts to quiver, my stupid weakling legs, doing their wobbly dance again. Already, heat and pressure build as an orgasm whirls in time to his touch.
“I’m not.” I manage. I’m soaked; I can feel my arousal running down my thigh. His hand is slick with it, each movement making soft, erotic noises that drive me insane.
“Good. Good girl.”
A sharp tug on my earlobe as he bites me there, his lips quickly kissing the sting. I want to reach for his cock again, feel it in my hand as I deliver pleasure, but he’s leaning too far over me. He parts my pussy lips, his fingers finding my clit in a decadent series of fast strokes that plummet me into an orgasm so fast … God, so blinding, that I turn my head and bury my face in the crook of my arm.
He murmurs things in my ear but I can’t decipher them because I’m flying, I’m dying, I’m falling apart and coming back together.
My mind goes black and the next thing I know, I’m in his arms, clinging to him as I try and find my strength. Gripping his biceps, I look up into his eyes. His face is strained with unmet passion, yet his eyes are soft as if he’s very, very pleased with himself.
He should be. I know I’m very, very pleased with him.
He sets me carefully down and retrieves my clutch, which I didn’t remember dropping.
“Let’s go.” His voice turns dark and thick and a new flood of arousal starts in me. “We’re nowhere near finished.”
5
Brent doesn’t tell me where we’re going and I don’t ask. At first, I figured we were headed back to his penthouse suite at the hotel. But the limo leaves the city and takes a winding road lined with trees.
There was a time I might have worried about him taking me into the deep, dark forest, but I’m not afraid now.
After that orgasm, there’s no way I can think of anything else.
That first night, I thought I could maybe die peacefully if he’d given me the pleasure I saw in his body.
Now I know it’s true. He could kill me, and I’d go happy.
Shame is somewhere inside me, but I can’t justify letting it run loose. Letting him get me off like that was a hundred types of wrong. He’s my boss, he has connections with a man who haunts my nightmares, and he is possibly involved in criminal activity. Yet, all of that got pushed behind the sensual way he touched me—the burn of arousal that took me to some subspace where pleasure soaked every inch of my being.
The man gave me one hell of an orgasm, and I want more. It’s that simple. Except, that I’m not sure how I can go back to work and face him each day. The weirdness of it … the obligation. How will that affect my job?
I should have left the restaurant alone, gone home and slept off my lust like a bad hangover. This behavior isn’t normal for me. Looking out the window, I count trees as they fly by and wonder what’s gotten into me. I know how arrangements like this turn out: badly.
But I want him like a drug. I crave him still, and a small voice inside my head says this could lead me down a path that only goes one way. Do I care? I can’t decide.
There is no twelve-step for this.
My heart flips when I consider that maybe … maybe this is how it started for my sister, too ... Rubbing my fingers against my temple, I squash that thought before it can grow, burying it deep.
“Erica.” I turn to his voice. “I want you to know that you have your job, and that has nothing to do with what’s happened between us since we left Georgios.”
Surprisingly, I feel a little reassured by that.
“You’re free to walk away right now with no caveats. You’ll still have your job in the morning and for as long as you continue to do excellent work. You can walk away, or you can choose to stay with me tonight.”
He’s giving me an out, a choice. I have the sense that offering a choice isn’t something he’s done often for people. The look on his face, the tension in his voice—this is a favor. I can tell. I felt his tight control when he was making me come in the coat closet. It took everything he had to hold back from fucking me.
He must be walking a tightrope right now.
“You know what will happen if you come with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question. I nod, because I’m fully aware. So is my body. I’m already buzzing with anticipation of his hands on me.
“I know.”
He turns more toward me, making me very aware of the strength of his body, all open and displayed as he sits with his knees apart. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say that you understand. Tell me exactly what will happen.”
I shift a little too, my knees brushing his before I let them fall slightly apart. “We’re going to have sex?” I hope so. I want so.
His nostrils flare a little, his eyes darkening as I run my palms down my legs. “Tell me out loud that you want to come with me tonight.”
Oh, there are so many ways I could come with him tonight. I’m sure he as an entire arsenal of tricks to make me scream. But first, he wants my verbal consent. Smart man. Oddly, this doesn’t alarm me. So many things about him scare me, but the promise of an orgasm isn’t one.
“I want to go with you tonight. I want to be here, right now. Just like this.” I lick my lower lip because my mouth suddenly feels dry. My boss, my boss that I’m going to fuck. I know this could jeopardize my ability to effectively function at work, but I don’t want to think about it right now.
He watches me
a moment longer, then, seemingly satisfied, looks out his window. I stare at him because I can’t pull my eyes away from his outline.
“Lake St. Clair.” Brent leans into me and points out the window. It takes me a second to realize that he thought I was looking at the lake. I wasn’t. An expanse of dark water hosts the reflection of a million stars and the big, full moon.
“It’s beautiful.”
Brent cups the back of my head and leans over me. The tip of his nose brushes mine, sending my body into high alert.
“Agreed.” His lips take mine in a soft, wet kiss. It’s innocent, sweet—confounding compared to the raw passion we’d shared earlier. His mouth trails down my jaw to my throat. Letting my head fall back against the seat, I tug my lower lip between my teeth to hold back a moan. The slide of his fingers along my ribs sends my heart into overdrive, and then his lips are coasting the rise of my breasts, the dip between them … lower. “Pull up your skirt.”
The rough command does something to me that I can’t explain. Without hesitation, I reach for the hem, lift my hips and shimmy the fabric up until my panties are exposed. Warmth from his palms meets the bared skin on my thighs as he pushes them open. Brent moves back on the seat and leans down to kiss my knee. I dig my fingers into his glossy, dark hair. It’s soft, and curls around my fingers as he drops kisses along my inner thigh.
I try to relax, but I’m wound up tight with the pulsing need for him to push into me.
Softly, he runs a finger down my panties as he nuzzles the upper crease of my thigh.
“You smell so good. I can’t wait to taste you.”
I grip big handfuls of his hair, wishing that he would, right now. Suddenly, he grabs my wrists and pulls my hands away. Nipping at my flesh, he bites hard enough to make me gasp. Instinctively, I try to rub the spot with my hand, but he holds me tight.
Softly, he plants a kiss over the sting. Then another. One more, until the soothing heat of his lips takes away the pain and I’m drowning in need more fierce than before. Brent moves my panties to the side, his fingers running the seam of my pussy, lightly … so lightly.
I gasp and clench my lower lip between my teeth. Just as I look down, his head sinks between my thighs, the tip of his tongue tracing where his fingers had just been. He parts me slowly, seeking, gently caressing me with little flicks and strong strokes.
And then his hands are pushing my legs as far apart as they can go, my thighs alight with the sudden pain in my hips. His tongue rubs over my clit with fast, intent strokes, leaving me no time to prepare. The pleasure is sudden and intense, drowning the pain, and completely consumes me.
“So good,” he murmurs as his fingers dig into my thighs. I try and arch up to him, to meet his mouth and draw out the chaotic pleasure. But he holds me tight, restricting me to the seat. Whimpering, I toss my head back as he feasts on me.
Sounds rumble from his throat—animalistic sounds. A low growl, a quick hiss. I’m desperate to rock my hips in time with his strokes, but I can’t. Focusing on the restriction, I realize that the ecstasy is building fast. When he sucks my clit into his mouth, I nearly fall into an orgasm. Gripping his shoulders, I concentrate on the sensation. Until I look down and see him watching me. Our eyes catch and I can’t look away. It’s raw and erotic, and fuck I’m going to come fast.
And then he’s licking me fast and hard, slow and soft, alternating with flat swirls that flood me with feeling. He thrusts his fingers into me, pulling on my clit, soothing it and I fall. My orgasm rips over me, pulsing through me.
I cry out, holding onto him for some sort of grounding while I fly. The dark hunger on his face steals my breath. With easy grace, he pushes back from me while I’m still reeling, and sits properly in his seat, smoothing his tie with a wicked smile.
“We’re here.”
6
I right my skirt with shaking hands as the limo comes to a stop before a stunning brick Colonial-style home. The circular driveway is lined with lampposts and carefully manicured shrubbery. Even though it’s dark and I can’t see everything well, I get the impression of an English country estate.
A butler meets us at the door, and the impression goes hardcore Downton Abbey.
Brent doesn’t pause to make chit-chat with his staff; he takes my hand and hurries me through an enormous entryway, down a hall that offers peeks into beautifully decorated rooms and up three flights of mahogany stairs.
Opening floor-to-ceiling double doors at the end of the hall, Brent ushers me inside and closes the doors behind him. It’s amazing, everything I imagined from gazing at houses like his from the outside for the past innumerable years.
I never thought I’d be inside.
Especially not like this.
Beautifully crafted and completely male, the space is lined in dark paneling, and oriental rugs in shades of red and blue and black. A glittery chandelier hangs down above us, the opposite wall adorned with curve-topped windows. To my right, the room steps up and the bed is the centerpiece.
I eye Brent and find him looking at me with lust-filled eyes. Between here and the bed, all sorts of curated décor and antique-looking furniture lie in the way.
He unbuttons his suit coat and shrugs it off. His white dress shirt has settled into the dip of his abdomen, showing off the rigid cut of muscle there. A thrill goes through me at the anticipation of seeing him undressed. Of seeing him naked, his silken flesh mine to touch, to taste.
“Come here,” he says while working his tie loose. Taking three steps, I stop before him, reaching for the tie. He watches me for a second before dropping his hands. Slowly, I work the knot until it comes free in my fingers. The dip at the base of his throat bounds with his pulse as I move to work the buttons on his shirt.
I only get to three when he grabs my wrists and drives me backward against a loveseat. His palms grip my face as he slams his lips onto mine. Gasping, I sink into the kiss, opening my mouth when he demands it with a push of his tongue. My teeth scrape his as I turn my head to take him more fully. It’s messy and devastating and I need the kiss more than I need air.
His lust is my breath.
My hands cruise his body. Frustrated by his clothing, I claw at his shirt, desperate to feel the hard-soft planes of his body. Brent grabs the front of his shirt and pulls, buttons popping and flying everywhere. His smile is cocky before he dives into another kiss.
I help him strip the shirt off, then his belt. It lands with a metallic clunk on the hardwood floor, the sound a loud contrast to our heavy breathing. Somehow, we spin as his hands cover my breasts and thumb my nipples over my dress. I clench as pleasure bursts through me. Something behind me wobbles, then tips and begins to roll.
Pulling from his kiss, I look behind me and grab a crystal vase just before it can roll off the dainty looking end table. Brent takes the vase from me and tosses it. It shatters on the floor at the front of the table. Open-mouthed, I stare at him.
“That probably costs more than my car.” I try to shift to the side, but he holds me where I am, my ass pressing into the table.
“That’s part of the fun of it.” He slips my dress down my shoulders and I wish it would just disintegrate.
“Breaking expensive things?”
“Breaking them because of the fuckhot sex we’re having.”
Okay, he’s got me there.
I release the ties that hold my dress in place, and he pulls me roughly forward so it can fall down my body. I inhale a sharp breath as the air chills my skin. Brent rakes me with a gaze that warms me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I don’t have time to be pleased by his appreciation. He rips my bra off, the straps pulling sharply against my skin before he unhooks it and throws it. In one move he bends me over his arm and pulls my nipple deep into his mouth. Reaching behind me, I palm the table in an attempt to keep my balance.
Moving to my other breast, he nips and pulls until I’m writhing. It takes a second to realize he’s stopped.
&
nbsp; “Wh—what?”
He shakes his head and palms my breast. “Nothing … well, I was just thinking of asking you to spend the night—”
“Of course!” I interject. My cheeks heat but I don’t care. “Of course I’ll spend the night.”
After all this, what do I have to be embarrassed about? His expression drops and I worry that he’s having second thoughts. He is my boss, and this affair is inappropriate.
Like, really inappropriate.
He watches as he kneads both breasts in his hands, pinching, testing my limits. “Women don’t spend the night here unless it’s on my terms.”
“Oh,” I breathe, clenching my eyes. “What are your terms?”
“Stop talking.”
Brent takes my hands and puts them on the waist of his pants. I fumble with his button and zipper, and in seconds, his pants are on the floor. I palm his cock through his briefs. The feel of his thick, hot length makes my mouth water. Wiggling his briefs down, I get the first slide of his dick on my palm and it’s fucking amazing.
So smooth … so hard. The thick vein underneath rolls against my touch and I want to feel it on my tongue. Emboldened, I move to lower to my knees, but he stops me.
“Not tonight. I need to fuck you.”
The table wobbles behind me. With a curse, Brent moves me to the old-looking chaise beside the loveseat and presses me against the back of it. Snatching up his pants, he digs a condom from the back pocket.
His lips meet mine, his tongue bruising me, his teeth nipping my lips as he rips the packet open and slides the condom on.
His strong hands lift me to sit on the side of the chaise. It’s the perfect height, lining his cock up perfectly. Grabbing his shoulders, I barely balance myself before he grabs my hips and brings me forward, impaling me on his huge cock with one hard thrust. It’s raw and powerful and I’m stunned by the force of it.
Time goes still, a buzz loud in my head as my brain and body race to connect the explosion of pleasure and pain. Mr. Masters—Brent—slides a hand into the hair at my temple and curls his fingers, pulling my head to the side. He kisses the side of my face and presses his cheek against mine.
Made for Him: A Mafia Baby Romance Page 15