“Please don’t make me come,” she whimpered.
“No? Why not?” He slowed his kisses, giving her a chance to answer, but his thumb was brushing back and forth across her clit—flick, flick, flick. “I want to feel you come on my fingers, pretty girl.”
“I’ll be too loud. Please!” She was fighting to hold back, trying to think of getting caught or something equally humiliating, but nothing in her mind could control her reactions to what he was doing to her body.
“No, I’ll keep you quiet.”
“Please,” she begged.
“Say ‘red’ if you really want me to stop.”
She opened her mouth to say the word, just to preserve her dignity, but she shook her head instead.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” His thumb started to vibrate on her aching clit, and she moaned into his mouth as it came down on hers. Still, she tried to hold back, but his finger brushed against her anus again as he thrust his fingers deeper. Through her nose she sucked in a breath, her body stretched as taut as an overtaxed elastic.
Her control snapped. A loud squeal escaped her. There was no way his mouth could catch all her noise, but she couldn’t help it. The orgasm was torture. Too intense and wild. Eyes rolling back, and half choking on his tongue, she fought to stay upright as she struggled through the wicked pleasure, overwhelmed as the spasms racked her. It went on too long, and by the time the pleasure ebbed, she was trembling weakly in his arms.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured. He kissed her forehead and pulled his fingers out of her, then drew his hand out of her panties. She shuddered through an aftershock, feeling like his hand was still around her neck. The sensation was erotic, and made her want more of pretty much anything he wanted to do to her. Wanting to thank him, or impress him, she grabbed for his fly, planning to give him a blow job.
He stopped her, with his hand on hers. “No time. They’re going to call the cops if we don’t get out of here.” Without hesitation, he put the two fingers that had been inside her in his mouth and cleaned them off. She watched in slightly horrified fascination. She was so going to jump him as soon as they got out to her SUV.
As the adrenaline began to wear off, she remembered where she was—the fitting room with an almost stranger. Before she could feel much shame, Luke looked down at her with a dark intensity that made her feel sexy instead of trashy.
“Do you need help changing back into your own clothes?” he asked.
“No, I’m okay.” She ducked her head, but he tipped her face back up. He was grinning.
“See you in a sec.” He peeked out the door, then slipped out, leaving her alone with her tortured, mortified thoughts.
“No, no, she’s fine,” she heard him say. “Stung by a wasp. It must have followed us in from the car or something.”
Shit. Someone heard her? Big surprise. The whole damn store probably had. Maybe she could just stay in the fitting room until it was closing time then slip out with the last worker.
She changed back into her own clothes, then looked at the pile of things she’d tried on and tried to remember which items fit and which didn’t. She wasn’t sure if the fact that Luke was waiting for her just outside made her want to rush out to be with him or stay in here and starve to death. Her opinion on the subject changed moment by moment.
When she was back in her own clothes, she brought out the things she’d chosen and dumped them in the cart without looking at Luke. She could feel his gaze on her but couldn’t bear to look up.
“You’re sure you don’t need an antihistamine?” Luke asked, obviously for the other man’s benefit.
“No, I’m fine,” she replied, rubbing her shoulder and wincing. The older man stood nearby, looking at a rack of sunglasses. When she finally glanced at Luke, he looked very concerned if one missed the gleam of amusement in his eyes.
“Are you sure? I probably have something I could give you for that.” There was a sexy arch to his brow.
She glared at Luke, silently prompting him to stop teasing.
“It was so weird,” she said, maybe too loudly. “It came out of nowhere.”
“Yes, you seemed very surprised.” Luke’s mouth quirked.
Drop it before you blow it, buddy.
For a moment she remembered that she’d almost gone down on him in the fitting room, and wondered what it would have been like. The idea was making her hot all over again.
Luke stood with the cart between him and the older man, but his hard-on was still evident through his jeans when she checked. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked her.
A drink? A smoke? Your cock? A tranquilizer dart?
She was so keyed up she could have run a marathon. Now that her body knew what he could do for her, it didn’t want him to stop. It was as if he’d opened some kind of kinky dam in her head and all these crazy hormones were pouring out.
The older man moved off to rejoin the woman he was with, and Ophelia gave an internal sigh of relief.
“I need underwear,” she replied sourly. She would have needed some anyway, but the ones she was wearing now were soaked. “I wonder if there’s a lingerie store nearby.”
“They sell underwear here,” he said innocently.
“Let me just safeword that idea right now. Red.”
Luke laughed, and somehow the sound was sexy. Maybe because she was still horny. “You’re safewording practical underwear and not wasp stings?” he asked. “Your priorities may be skewed, just so you’re aware.”
“Oh, the wasp sting wasn’t so bad,” she said slyly. “It’s not like it made me cry or anything.”
His eyes narrowed, and his smile turned devilish. Had it sounded like she was throwing down the gauntlet?
“Nooo . . . no. Get that look off your face. That wasn’t a challenge.”
“No? We’ll see about that.”
Chapter 6
The only thing better than making Ophelia blush was making her come.
When he loaded their new equipment into the SUV and got behind the wheel, her smothered cries were replaying in his head. His cock was annoyed with him for turning down the blow job, but he hadn’t wanted her to feel obligated. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, but she seemed more embarrassed than angry.
“You okay?”
She shifted, the leather of the seat creaking with her movement.
“I don’t know why I let you do that,” she whispered so faintly he could barely hear her over the engine.
“You looked like you could use an orgasm. Was I wrong?”
She ducked her head. “Well . . . no,” she mumbled. “I just don’t want you thinking I go around doing this sort of thing all the time.”
“So you only let guys give you orgasms in fitting rooms once in a while?”
That got him a short chuckle. “I just don’t want you to think I’m easy.”
“It was my idea. So, if anything, that would make me the easy one.” He pulled out of the parking spot and turned onto the road that led to a mall a few minutes away. “Just so you know, though, I’ve never gotten a girl off in a fitting room before. You were my first.” He batted his eyelashes at her, and she laughed again.
“Did I make you feel special, at least?” she asked, her tone wry.
“You were a good girl and came for me, so yes.”
She made a strangled sound and looked out the passenger-side window. The curve of cheek he could see was bright red.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re about as far from being boring as you can get.”
“Oh my god, shut up!” She was glaring at him now, her blush bright enough to light Santa’s sleigh at Christmas, but her eyes glittered with exhilaration rather than anger.
“Are you going to try things on for me at the lingerie store too?”
“No!” she gasped out, laughing. “You
can’t even come into the store with me. You go do something else for a few minutes. We’re going to be late getting into Butte as it is.”
“We could always stay in a hotel tonight.”
She rolled her eyes and he seriously considered pulling over somewhere so he could kiss her again.
“Luke! You just bought enough camping equipment for us to survive the zombie apocalypse. We’re damn well going to use it.”
“Did you just say . . . ‘zombie apocalypse’?” He grinned at her.
They talked Walking Dead until they were in the mall and standing in front of a lingerie store. Taking a chance, he grabbed her wrist as she turned away, then pulled her close and kissed her. He drew away when he could force himself to.
“While you’re in there don’t forget to think practical,” he reminded her in an attempt to make her blush again. “We’re camping.”
“Aren’t thongs practical?” she asked innocently.
He groaned. “You’re killing me, woman.”
Playfully, she shoved him away. “Behave. I’ll be done in about fifteen minutes.”
It was impossible not to watch her go. That sweet ass of hers needed to be bitten. As she entered the store, she looked back over her shoulder at him and caught him staring. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. She frowned in amused exasperation and waved him away. Busted. Well, it wasn’t like his interest in her was a secret.
Condoms. They needed condoms. At least he hoped they did. He might have to take a long, solitary walk later this evening.
He wandered down the hall, looking for a drugstore. Atlas, Fox, and Addison had all texted him about a million times, and he sent the group chat a quick message letting them know where he was.
Down the hall and around the corner, he found a small pharmacy where he bought condoms, toothbrushes, toothpaste, a hairbrush, and a few other odds and ends. It would have been easier to pack at home rather than try to make do with what they could find, but Ophelia had been in such a rush to leave the city it made him wonder what she was avoiding. Something to do with her dysfunctional family, maybe? Money problems? A life of crime?
He snorted. No. That was him.
Fifteen minutes later he was back at the lingerie store and, on cue, Ophelia emerged, carrying a small bag. She eyed his pharmacy bag and raised her brows.
“What’d you buy?” she asked.
“This and that,” he replied. “Chocolate bars. And condoms.”
She made a sound of irritation and headed for the mall exit.
“What?” he asked, catching up to her.
“There aren’t condoms in there.”
“There are, in case we decide to have sex.”
“You love embarrassing me!”
“Uh-huh.”
She stopped just outside and turned to face him. “Yeah, well, now that I know that, it’s going to be a lot harder to shock me. You’re going to have to up your game.”
The sweet thing was doing her best to seem intimidating, but it was like watching a kitten fluff its fur.
He drew himself up to full height and narrowed his eyes at her—something he’d avoided doing before in his effort to keep her from being afraid of him, but it seemed safe enough to try now. Eyes widening, she fell back a step, like she’d just discovered her pet was a monster.
“Was that a challenge, princess?”
“Um . . . no?” She bit her lip.
“That’s what I thought.” Although he winked at her, she kept a greater distance between them.
They walked back to the SUV in silence. When they were back on the highway, Luke wondered if he’d spooked her too much. It was hard to remember how to act around vanilla girls sometimes. He sorted through a few topics to get conversation going again, but drew a blank.
“I’m glad you bought condoms, but I’ve been tested twice since my last partner, and I’m on the pill.”
Bold of her. It caught him by surprise.
“Same here, minus the pill part.”
“Oh, like your bed has been empty long?”
It had been. He didn’t like the hassle of casual sex anymore, and his line of work made it difficult to get into a serious relationship. “Work has been a bit . . . intense lately.”
Idiot. He shouldn’t have mentioned work. Now she was going to start fishing for details.
“So,” she said, delicately clearing her throat, “are you a Dominant?”
More interested in that than whether he had money? Sweet.
“I tend to be dominant in bed. I’m not a Dominant. But yes, I’m into kink.”
She mulled that over in silence for a few miles and he wondered what she was thinking. He’d never wished he could read a woman’s mind before.
“Can I have one of the candy bars?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know. Is it going to ruin your dinner?”
She grimaced and helped herself, holding the bag open longer than it should have taken to choose the Snickers she withdrew. Curious kitty wanted to see if he was joking about the condoms? Well, they were there for her to look at.
“You’re pretty bossy outside of bed too,” she observed.
For a moment he let himself watch her put the tip of the candy bar in her mouth and bite off a piece. He could have sworn his stupid dick was watching, because it twitched with impatience.
“Some women seem to inspire that in me.”
“So you, like, tie girls up and spank them and stuff?” she asked far too casually.
The visual of doing those things to her pained him. “Only if they want me to. I enjoy vanilla too. It all depends on what my partner wants.”
The houses along the highway were becoming more sporadic, with longer stretches of trees in between. He watched the scenery, both because it was beautiful country and he desperately needed to distract himself.
It was amazing that there were still such large pockets of wilderness in America. A man could lose himself. But it was the girl in the seat next to him who held all of his attention.
“I . . . Sometimes I have fantasies about things like that,” she admitted, whispering like someone might overhear. “I’ve never told anyone. Not even my friends.”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “I don’t think anyone is completely vanilla. It’s all a matter of how adventurous you are and whether you have a partner you trust to keep your secrets.”
“I guess so.” She finished the candy bar and stuffed the wrapper back into the shopping bag. “Maybe that’s why I’m no good in bed.”
“Because you’re afraid of doing what you want?”
“I do what I think a guy wants while trying to suck in my stomach and look pretty. It’s like acting, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be.” She sighed and leaned back against the seat. “I’ve never asked anyone for what I really wanted.”
“No?”
“No.”
“What would you ask for, if you thought they wouldn’t judge you for it?”
She covered her eyes with her hand. “Do I seriously have to answer that without the help of alcohol?”
“Up to you,” he conceded. “You seemed to like what happened in the fitting room—or was that acting, too?” He knew it hadn’t been—not the way her body had reacted—but he wanted to hear her admit it.
She squirmed slightly in her seat as she frowned at the view out the windshield. “I liked it when you pulled my hair and made me feel trapped. Only because I knew you’d stop though, if I asked you to.”
So trusting so soon. He was flattered.
“Yes. I’ll always stop if you say ‘red,’ or if I get the feeling things have gone too far, or I can see you’re not really feeling safe.”
She turned and studied his face. “So what we talk about in car therapy stays in car therapy?”
“Yes, an
d I expect the same respect from you.”
“Deal.”
She tapped a fingernail against her teeth and the click reminded him of the pleasant sting he’d felt when she’d clawed his arm while she came. The scratches were a badge of honor.
For a few moments she deliberated. “I always fantasize about getting bossed around, but in real life guys want me to know what to do—to act like an exotic dancer or a porn star. I don’t have that kind of self-confidence or experience. So I try to do what they want and probably just end up looking stupid.” She shook her head and sighed in what sounded like remembered embarrassment. “Most of the time I think they date me for the connections. My mom and dad know a lot of people, so anyone who’s trying to get into important circles is willing to put up with my awkwardness to take advantage of that.”
“Idiots. They don’t deserve you.”
She smiled shyly but didn’t meet his gaze.
“So, when you say you fantasize about being bossed around, what do you mean?”
“You don’t even care that I’m rich.” She snorted. “You just want me to tell you my deep, dark secrets.”
Busted. Was she offended that he didn’t care about that sort of thing? It was irrelevant to his life.
“Quit stalling.”
She covered her eyes. “You know . . . like the guy telling me what to do,” she blurted. “Teaching me what he likes and showing me how.”
Crap. This whole conversation was a bad idea. He wanted to readjust his cock, but didn’t want to draw attention to how much this was turning him on.
“You want someone to talk you through it?”
“Yes, and to boss me into doing it. Maybe even . . . make me a little,” she said, shifting again. “Like pull my hair and . . . hold me down. Make me feel like I can’t escape.”
“Right,” he said neutrally, hoping she’d keep talking. His mind hyper-focused on the idea of holding her wrists and thrusting into her as she wriggled, gasping and mewling, beneath him.
“I’d never want anything like that to happen for real, but it’s okay if I know I can make the guy stop, isn’t it? Or does that go against what feminist women are supposed to want? I don’t know. I feel kind of weird about it, but it’s what I daydream about. I can’t help it, you know?”
Fueling His Hunger Page 5