“Touch me,” he ordered.
“Make me.” Her voice was sharper.
He cupped her hand around the bulge of his cock and forced her to caress him. Her fingers slipped inside the open zipper without the need to exert even the slightest bit of pressure, and finally she was touching his bare flesh.
“Jesus.” He swallowed hard. Her hand was hot. She held him firmly, squeezed. He almost begged. He would have if he didn’t understand that she wanted him to push her. His palm to the back of her head, he drew her close. “Taste it. Now.”
Pushing aside his slacks, she revealed him completely. “You’re not bad,” she mused to his cock. “Much better than the last one.”
He almost laughed.
She licked along his slit, catching a drop of pre-come on her tongue, and he was suddenly the farthest thing from laughter. His whole body grew taut, his butt cheeks clenched, and his hips surged up.
“Come to mama,” she whispered and took him in her mouth.
“Oh fuck.” His head fell back against the seat, and his control vanished. She took it all the way she took his cock. The power became hers, just as she’d said. He was simply screaming nerves and pounding blood and beating organs. His stomach plunged, his heart went into overtime, and his lungs gasped.
She drew him deep, worked his balls, then suctioned on the long slide back up. He was so close to coming with only that single suck, his eyes felt like they’d pop. She swirled her tongue around the ridge, nibbled lightly on the tip, captured another few drops of pre-come and took him all over again.
Holy hell, no wonder the kid had come so quickly. Her mouth was a marvel. The soft kneading of his balls was an event. But when she gripped him hard at his base and sucked him quickly, he knew he was lost.
* * * * *
His come was a delicious ambrosia of salty and sweet. Cassandra sucked hard, his body beneath her tense and quivering with need. His hand stayed fisted in her hair, urging her on. She wouldn’t have minded a little more pressure, as if he were truly forcing her. The new game was exquisite. The orgasm she’d had with his eyes on her had made her body scream. With her dress around her waist and her pussy bare, she was still riding the high. His cock in her mouth only intensified the sensations.
“Christ Almighty,” he muttered, his hips jerking, pushing him deeper.
And Cassandra took him. He was not as big as some but larger than most, thicker and perfectly hard. The end had a curve that fit neatly down her throat without choking her. She deep-throated him and his entire body vibrated.
“Oh fuck.” He clutched her hair close to the point of pain.
But her pleasure was in his loss of control. Power. She had it all. She rolled his balls against her palm and loosened her grip on the base of his cock. Her hand had acted like a ring, keeping him on the edge but unable to come. One more squeeze of his balls was all the encouragement his body needed. He burst on her tongue, flooding her mouth with a scrumptious wave.
He grunted and groaned, held her down as his body jerked and his cock throbbed, spilling everything he had.
Cassandra savored every drop.
He finally relaxed, slumping against the seat, his hand falling away. She licked him clean, then put his cock back in his pants, zipping, buckling. Like a perfect little whore. Though she’d never been paid for sex, Cassandra didn’t find it to be a dirty word.
Her dress still around her waist, she climbed into his lap, straddling him. Without opening his eyes, he cupped her butt in his hands.
She laid her palms against his crisp white shirt. “So, female empowerment?”
“Fuck yes,” he muttered.
The words reminded her of Samson. They were his favorite.
“Kiss me,” she ordered.
He cracked one eyelid.
“Taste me. Taste us. Taste yourself in my mouth.” Men came in all types. Some were homophobic about kissing her after she’d swallowed, as if sharing the smidgen of come that remained was tantamount to being gay. Some wanted a snowball, the cocktail of come before she’d swallowed. And still others wanted to clean another man’s come right out of her pussy. It took all kinds. She wondered what he would be for her.
He slid his hand through the mass of hair at her nape and pulled her down to him. His brown eyes were dark as midnight. Without a word, he took her mouth. He sucked her tongue, tasted, delved deep. He made her head spin. The man could definitely kiss.
She was breathless when he finally pulled away, holding her face cupped in his hands. “Next time,” he whispered, “you’ll taste yourself on my tongue after I’ve made you scream with pleasure.”
God, yes, she would. “Next time.” They weren’t done, far from it. There all manner of kinky things she needed to try with him. And new things she’d never tried. She was definitely into the he-man act he had going. Of course, it needed refining. But she knew how to take care of that.
She leaned in, pulled his lip between her teeth and nipped lightly as if she was staking a claim. “Here’s what we’re going to do next.” And she told him. Between her legs, he was hard again. And she was wet.
Oh yes, this was going to be so good.
Chapter Seven
“They’re getting married? And they want us to come to the wedding? You’re joking.”
Clay had waited until he had Jessica right where he wanted her before he told her, pumping slowly inside her, riding her G-spot, which was guaranteed to make her crazy. He put his lips to her ear, licked. “I’m not joking. Holt told me today. He’s marrying Ruby in September. And he invited us.”
She moaned with pleasure. Then groaned. “You’re just trying to get me to agree while I’m not in full control of all my faculties.”
Actually, he’d been worried about her reaction. He’d lived with Ruby until a few weeks ago. Also until a few weeks ago, Jessica had worked for him. They were work associates. Then his emotions had exploded, and all he could think of was Jessica. But the demise of his relationship with Ruby had nothing to do with her. That would have come to its own end anyway, with or without Jessica.
“I would never use such underhanded tactics.” He lifted slightly and reached between them to play her clit as he rocked inside her.
“Oh God.” She pulled her knees to his waist and dug her fingernails into his arms.
“You don’t have to say yes until you’ve thought about it.” He could keep the slow pace for quite some time. Long enough to turn her to mush. God, he loved making her come hard and long. He loved her. Except for his sons, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Then she’d rocked his world the other night when she’d picked him up from the airport. She’d given him everything he wanted, made his wildest fantasies come true. The things she’d told him, what she’d done while he was away, had driven him mad. It had been the best goddamn homecoming he could have hoped for. No one had ever made him feel the way she did. No one ever would.
Her body worked him on the inside as he drove her higher to that sweet orgasmic peak. “Is this good, baby?”
“God, oh God.”
It was answer enough for him. When she started to come, she pushed her head back into the pillow and clamped her hands on his ass. He rose to her pace, taking her hard, prolonging the orgasm. This time he couldn’t hold out. He came hard and long inside her, filling her, losing himself in her.
When he could breathe again, he cuddled her close. “I want to go,” he said. “I want you to go. But I want us to be husband and wife.”
She stilled against him, not even a breath out of her lungs.
“You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.” He thought of the night at the airport, of all the nights to come, when she surprised him, made him wild, gave him his deepest desires. “I want everyone to know how much you mean to me. My kids, my ex-wife. My boss.”
“And your ex-lover,” she said softly.
“She already knows it. But I also want her to know that I don’t have a grudge and I
’m happy for them.”
Jessica tipped her head back. In the moonlight falling through the window, her eyes gleamed. “It sounds like you’re trying to prove something.”
He put a hand to her cheek. “I love you. I don’t have to prove anything. I just want it all behind us, a new beginning, a send-off to the old. And I want you as my wife. Forever.”
She stared at him a long time, her gaze shifting from one eye to the other as if she’d see a different answer in each. Then finally she whispered, “I love you, Clay Blackwell. I’ll marry you. And I’ll go to Ruby’s wedding. Maybe Holt even possesses the ability to make her a better woman.”
“I actually believe he does.” He kissed her, his heart overflowing. “I love what you did for me the other night.”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for us.” She nuzzled him.
His pulse leaped with anticipation. Yet even if she never did it again, he wouldn’t tire of her. He’d put his ring on her finger and never let her go. Well, only for an evening, after which she would come home to rock his world again and again.
Chapter Eight
“What’s up with you?” Spence asked. “You’re off your game.”
The restaurant was one of San Francisco’s five-star offerings, the food excellent, the prices extravagant. The customer had stepped out to take a call. He and Spence often double-teamed a potential customer. Though Spence was well versed in every aspect of their products, questions often arose that required Ward’s technical expertise. This lunch had been no exception. However, Spence had pegged it. Ward was off his game.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Spence held up his water glass, chinking the ice at the bottom to signal their waiter for a refill. They didn’t have cocktail lunches like in the old days.
Ward didn’t want to talk about her. But Spence deserved some sort of explanation. “Yes, it’s her.”
Spence let the waiter fill his water glass and move on before saying, “Just do her and get it over with.” Ah, such sage advice.
Doing Cassandra wasn’t the problem. Obsession was the problem. His obsession. It had been growing logarithmically in the two nights since the Entrepreneurs Club. She texted him, telling him what she wanted him to do, and it was like the devil whispering in his ear. She called him late at night and moaned for him as she touched herself. She never let him stop thinking about her. Did that mean she was obsessed as well? He didn’t think so. He was just her current plaything.
But he couldn’t stop.
“Jesus, don’t tell me you think you’re in love after less than a week.”
He hadn’t said a word. That was probably just as telling as blurting out everything.
“I’m not in love.” It was lust. Or something. Not love. She wasn’t lovable. Hot, sexy, wild, spontaneous, gorgeous, smart, talented, kinky, insatiable, but not lovable. Men didn’t love her, they obsessed about her.
“Haven’t you done her yet?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Spence wasn’t offended. “It’s my business when it affects my sales pitch.” He eyed Ward a long moment. “Are you all right? I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Ward wondered what this was? Distracted, in his own head too much, slow to respond? Yeah, all of that.
“Because she’s Holt’s daughter?” Spence queried.
“No.” Because he had no control. Because the woman could get him to do anything she wanted, case in point, the date she’d planned for tomorrow night. Ward knew he’d go. He’d play the role she’d cast him in, a cuckold yet again. Yet this was so different from what his wife had done.
He drew in a deep breath and clenched his teeth. Then he looked at Spence. “Has a woman ever led you around by your—” He stopped. Spence would get it.
“Hell yeah.”
Ward doubted it. Spencer Benedict was supremely confident. No woman would ever have brought him low. Hell, maybe when he was a still a kid, but not Spencer Benedict the man.
“Dude, what you need to do is let go and enjoy it.” More sage advice. “You analyze too much. Just let go.” He leaned in, his voice low. “And when you do, it’ll be cataclysmic.”
“I’m sure it will be,” he said dryly. The problem was their definition of being led around by the dick. Ward didn’t think his was the same as Spence’s. He couldn’t imagine Spence simply sitting back while a woman made him watch as she picked up another man. Or standing in a darkened office like a peeping Tom while some big beefy guy took her from behind. And the blow job? The only reason she’d sucked him off in the car was to prove her power over him. Worse, he’d gotten as hard as concrete block every time. But he wasn’t telling Spence any of that. No freaking way. It was unmanly.
“Tell me this, do you like the way she makes you feel. Or do you hate it?” Spence sat back as if he’d delivered the coup de grace.
She made his skin buzz with excitement. He felt alive, on edge. His heart was constantly racing. He was totally in the moment when he was with her. She could make his eyes roll back in his head without even touching him. That first day, he’d wanted to take his cock in his hand and stroke himself till he came all over her. The night with Samson, he’d wanted to hold her head and feed his cock to her while the other guy fucked her. He loved watching the pleasure blossom on her face. He liked her cocky, sexy, self-assured attitude. “Yeah,” he finally said, “I like it a lot.”
“Then just enjoy it while you have it. That’s what I do. No future, no past, just now. The only thing that counts is if you both like it.”
He needed to emulate Spence. If he enjoyed it, did it matter that she was using other men to turn him on? If he liked watching and she liked being watched, did it matter that someone else would call him a voyeur or a wimp or a peeper? He’d had the best sex of his life in the last week, and he’d only touched her once. What other woman could he say that about? What other relationship? Not even his wife.
“You’re thinking hard,” Spence said. “You better come up with the right answer.”
Ward felt a wry smile grow on his lips. “You know, for a dickhead, you sometimes have a really good idea.”
Spence buffed his fingernails on his shirt. “Damn right. Now”—he jutted his chin toward the restaurant lobby and their returning customer—“let’s make the sale.”
* * * * *
The following evening Ward found himself watching Cassandra once again. The woman did love making plans for him.
Tonight she’d chosen a high-end airport hotel. Since it was Friday, there appeared to be fewer business clientele and more vacationers. Even at nine o’clock, the lobby was packed with people checking in and every table in the restaurant was full. With the high ceilings and open floor plan, the noise level made it impossible to make out individual conversations, even when they were going on right next to him.
Her instructions had been detailed. He was to wear a suit and tie and sit in the bar which was separated from the hotel restaurant by a banquette of potted plants. He found a barstool on the end, putting him high enough above the greenery to be able to see her seated on the other side.
Tuning out the voices around him and the scent of food, he worked on his beer, wetting his parched throat. Thank God that with all her plans she hadn’t gone so far as to tell him what to drink. He considered Spence’s advice, even if Spence hadn’t known exactly what he was telling Ward to do. Go with it. Enjoy it.
How could he not enjoy watching her? The fabric peacock- blue dress shimmered in the candlelight flickering on the table. The square neckline dipped low on her bosom, so low that he could almost believe her nipples might pop out. Her breasts were spectacular, hence his parched throat.
Yes, he enjoyed, but there was still an underlying tension watching her cozy up to some other guy. This one was on the ordinary side, average build, average height, average looks. Nothing special, just a guy like any other, but one she was going to fuck tonight. They were already eating dinner wh
en Ward arrived, so he wasn’t sure if she’d picked up the man in the bar or she already knew him. The table was intimate—it had to be if you wanted to hear the other person—and they were seated close enough for the guy to have his hand on her knee. Ward didn’t know that for sure, but one of his hands was below the table.
She laughed, he laughed. She gave him bedroom eyes, a slow lowering of her lids that spoke volumes about what they’d be doing later.
Ward let his emotions simmer. A little jealousy and anger had made the other night hotter. He wanted her but he was also aware this was abnormal. The regular progression would be dinner, nice conversation, take her home, maybe kiss her, but probably you wouldn’t invite yourself in the first night. That would take a few more dinners. With Cassandra, normal was blown to the four winds. He’d seen her gorgeous pussy and the play of a tremendous orgasm across her beautiful features before he’d ever said a word to her. He’d watched her have sex. He’d even helped her pick up a young kid in a bar. They weren’t together. They were just playing a series of games, escalating with every new episode. He could walk away any time. He should walk away. That was better for him.
But then the guy put his finger to her lip, and she bit him lightly. She liked love bites. Ward had been on the receiving end and somehow it was too damn sexy for words. It made his blood boil that she did it to someone else. His temperature rose, his skin heated, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He felt something else rise, too, not his cock—that had been hard since the moment he’d seen her sitting there—but his blood lust. He wanted her. He wanted to fight for her. He wanted to grab Mr. Joe Average by the front of his shirt, haul him up on his toes, and smash his face. Before the guy got to Cassandra.
She was standing. Her dinner date threw bills on the table. As he looked down, Cassandra stared straight at Ward. She held his gaze several long seconds then licked her lips. And smiled.
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