Except this was what I wanted. All of it. The dubious consent, the dominant overtones. I wanted it with every fiber of my being, and if I was a big enough girl to know that about myself then maybe I could be a big enough girl to accept it too.
Hesitantly—only because I was nervous, not because I was reluctant—I wrapped my hands around the band of his briefs. Donovan raised his hips, and I pulled his briefs down until his cock sprung out thick and heavy.
Damn, was he always this big?
He was longer than I’d realized. Rounder too. And it only made me want him more.
I just wasn’t sure where to start.
A drop of pre-cum glistened on his head as if signaling me, and I leaned forward and licked it off, slowly. Deliberately.
His cock stirred, but that didn’t mean anything. It was too gentle of a movement for Donovan, too soft, and I knew without him telling me that I needed to progress my game.
I sucked his tip, then past that, drawing the top half of his cock into my mouth. When I started to wrap my fingers around his base, he stopped me. “No hands—just your mouth.”
Okay. I could do that.
I rested my hands on his thighs instead, loving the way his muscles felt under my palms, and resumed the action with my mouth, bobbing up and down his shaft, hollowing my cheeks to make the suction tight. He tasted good—like clean and musk and Donovan, and as big as he was, he felt good. It made me horny, made me super aroused. Like the way he stretched my lips reminded my pussy how it felt to be invaded in the same way.
“Very nice,” Donovan said after I’d spent a few minutes sucking him off. “Good girl. I like that.” He brought both his hands to my head and wrapped them in my hair. “But now I’m going to take over.”
That was all the warning I got.
After that, Donovan was the one in control. With my head held in his grip, he pushed me down over his cock, slowly at first, forcing more of his length in than I’d previously taken.
“That’s it, that’s it,” he coaxed as his tip hit the back of my mouth. And still he pushed in farther. “Relax your throat, Sabrina.”
My eyes went wide. I couldn’t take any more. I was going to gag. I started to panic. I couldn’t breathe.
Yes, I could. Through my nose.
I inhaled, and my throat relaxed, and he slid in farther, deeper than I’d ever taken anyone into my mouth before.
“Jesus.” He held me there, with his cock down my throat, not moving.
After a few seconds, he let go, but immediately he pushed in deep again. “All the way. Good girl, good girl.” This time he pumped my head over him, raising and lowering me only an inch or two above his balls. “God, it feels so fucking good. Fucking your mouth like this.”
I didn’t know how I felt. Aroused. Confused. Panicked. His thrusts brushed by my gag reflex, and I could only take it so long before I was sure I’d puke, but I couldn’t do anything to tell him but claw along his legs and look up at him with watering eyes.
He read my cues and understood. He let me up to relax. Let me catch my breath. But as soon as I did, he urged me back into position and pushed me farther the next round. And the next.
It was intense. It was brutal. But I could feel his cock get thicker in my throat. I saw how wild he got when he pumped my mouth over him, and it only made me love it more. Made me want to please him more.
When he was close, he held my head still and instead drove his cock into my mouth, fucking my face with as much frenzy as he’d fucked my cunt.
“I could have anyone’s mouth on me,” he said, his breaths short. “Any woman I want. Money can buy the prettiest lips, the most famous mouths, the deepest throats. And still, for ten years, all I can think about is your mouth. It’s only yours I want. Why can’t I get over your goddamn lips?”
I clawed into him, hard. So hard I thought I might tear his expensive suit. But not because I couldn’t take the pounding, but because I wasn’t sure I could take what he was saying.
He let up, reading the signal the same way as usual, but this time he barely let me have a break before saying, “I’m going to come. Swallow it all, Sabrina.”
He jerked twice, grunting as he shot into my mouth. Warm liquid coated my throat, as his thighs quivered beneath me. It was so hot. So fucking hot to see him so savage. Whatever I had to do to see it again, I’d do it. I’d have given my soul away.
I might have said something about it too, except the second after I swallowed, Donovan pulled me up and kissed me forcefully. Our tongues tangled, our tastes mixed until I could no longer distinguish the taste of his mouth from the taste of his cum in my mouth.
When he pulled away, our eyes locked.
“This doesn’t help me figure out where things are between us,” I whispered.
“It doesn’t help me either.” He sounded off-balance. Which threw me off-balance—more than I had been—because when had I ever seen Donovan unsteady before?
But no wonder he was bewildered. What had just happened? What he’d just said—I was pretty sure he hadn’t meant any of it. He couldn’t. It was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
As though we’d simultaneously woken from a weird trance, I fell back on my ass at the same time he fell back in his chair. There was distance between us now. Not much, but enough to feel like I could think my own thoughts for half a second.
And the look on his face said he was now thinking his own thoughts. I could actually see him shutting down. See his expression tighten and his eyes become guarded.
“Don’t,” I said, putting a hand up in warning. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. You can ask for space without saying something terrible.”
His brow furrowed. “Is ‘I have to get back to work now’ considered terrible?”
“When you say it directly after an intimate act, yes.” I stood up and did my best to straighten my hair without a mirror. “So how about I just go.”
Without any other movement, he nodded.
His gaze had a weight to it that I had memorized, and I could feel his eyes on me as I walked to the door.
Just as I was about to leave, he called after me, “Sabrina?”
I turned back to look at him, and the thing was, whatever he had to say, even if it was decent and not terrible, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to hear it.
I put my finger to my lips. “Shh.”
Then I pivoted and left, surprised I could walk as high as I was from the erotic scene.
But even dazed and confused, there was one thing I did know—the next move was on him.
Twenty-Two
I quickly learned the downside of having the ball out of my hands—Donovan was patient. Me—not so much.
Every day Donovan left me wondering anxiously if he’d make contact. And each day that passed without seeing him, I felt on edge. More and more, I worried he’d decided he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything further.
And then what the hell would I do?
I was into this now. He’d made me choose. I’d chosen to play. And then he’d made me wait.
And wait.
Goddamn motherfucker made me wait until Friday before he made his move.
I’d just returned from a working lunch with my team. I’d been distracted through the whole thing because I’d caught a whiff of Donovan’s cologne in the hall beforehand, and all I wanted to think about after that was how good he smelled when he was hovering over me. Somehow I’d gotten my head together, but I still felt dizzy when it was over, so I’d rushed back to my office. I’d barely had time to stow my purse in my locked drawer when Ellen, my assistant, called from her desk.
“Is my one thirty here?” I asked in lieu of greeting while trying to look at my teeth in my cell phone. “If he is, he’s early, and he can wait.”
Before she could answer, my door opened. And there was Donovan. Striding in like he’d been invited.
Guess Ellen hadn’t been calling about my one thirty.
I dropped
my cell. Thank god, my teeth had been clean.
Because, damn, Donovan looked hot. Wicked hot. Hotter than last time I’d seen him, which wasn’t saying much because he always looked hotter than the last time I’d seen him. His suit today was light gray, his tie thin and black, his scruff thickening as afternoon rolled in.
But it was never what he wore or how recently he’d trimmed that made him sexy. It was how he stood, how he moved. Like he owned every inch of space that he took up. Like he deserved to own it.
It was how he looked at me. Like he owned me. Like he deserved to own me.
“I’m sorry,” Ellen rattled on through the receiver of the phone I was still holding. “It’s Mr. Kincaid. He just walked in. Obviously.” She sounded flustered, but she couldn’t possibly feel as flustered as I did with him in my office.
I mean, I got it. To her, he was The Big Boss. He held power over her.
That was nothing compared to the power he held over me.
“It’s okay, Ellen.” I started to tell her to hold my calls and cancel any appointments because, after four long days and nights of carnal thoughts about the man, I needed this encounter to get naughty. Just seeing him had ruined my panties.
But on the other hand, he’d put me through those four long days and nights of torture, and he didn’t deserve to be greeted with me falling at his feet.
“Buzz me when Mr. Hoder arrives,” I said instead. Reluctantly. Then hung up.
Without an apology for the intrusion, Donovan shut my door, fastened his eyes on me, and advanced to my desk.
“We need to have dinner.” His tone was harsh, and the energy surrounding him felt heavy and dense.
“Dinner or dessert?” I teased with a grin, throwing back the same question he’d asked me when I’d invited him out. I was relieved he was there. Excited, even.
“Dinner,” he said emphatically. “We need to talk. I’ll send my driver to pick you up at eight.” He turned around and headed back toward the door.
“Tonight?” I called after him. He was blustering around so fast I couldn’t quite keep up, and the air he was blowing in his path was chilly. My excitement was starting to fizzle into confused agitation.
He stared at me sharply. “Tonight.”
Everything about his delivery said there was no arguing.
“Fine. I’ll be ready.” As anxious as I’d been to see him all week, now I just wanted him out of my office and gone. Whatever was up with him, he’d better be over it by tonight.
“My driver will text you when he’s there.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.”
“You don’t,” he said sternly. “But you’ll learn.”
The hair at the back of my neck prickled. It was a clearly pointed statement. There was no way I could ignore that his annoyance was directed at me.
“Hang on a second,” I said, stopping him before he stormed out. “Are you sure there’s something you don’t want to say now? It seems you aren’t really happy with me, and if that’s the case then maybe you should just tell me.”
He only barely hesitated. “You told Weston about us.”
Oh, that.
I hadn’t considered that Donovan might not have been happy about that. “I did tell him,” I began slowly. “He’d admitted—”
Donovan interrupted, taking an intimidating step forward as he did. “You told Weston about us, and you shouldn’t have told him about us. You should never tell anyone about us because there is no us.”
His speech hit like it had been a heavy sandbag that he’d thrown instead of a combination of articulated sounds. I felt the blood drain from my face, humiliated. Hurt. “There is no us” already stuck on a repeat loop in my brain.
“We have had sex a couple of times, Sabrina,” he continued, as if I hadn’t already been wounded sufficiently. “That’s all. Nothing more. And since we are both decent people, I’m sure we can concur that it’s no one’s business but our own.”
I blinked back threatening tears. We hadn’t defined what we were, and I hadn’t made any assumptions about what kind of relationship we’d have. I’d never thought we would be more than lovers. But it stung to have that confirmed outright. Quite a lot more than I would ever have expected, for no reason I could figure out. Probably because he was so fucking condescending. Because he was so self-righteous. Because, despite not being what I’d even wanted, it was rejection.
That was it—he’d diminished something that had been important to me. Maybe this relationship was just sex, but it still mattered. To me, anyway. It mattered a lot. For the first time in my life, I was beginning to see how I could feel comfortable in my body, comfortable with my desires, and it was only because of Donovan. It hurt to realize that it didn’t mean anything to him the way it did to me.
Which was probably dumb and immature and a stupid girly emotion—exactly the thing he was trying to avoid dealing with by giving his there is no us routine.
But I had a right to be upset on a practical level too. I’d had a relationship with Weston as well. I had a right to tell him what I fucking wanted, especially when it fell on the heels of our closet encounter.
After a deep breath—when I was sure I wouldn’t cry—I started in on my defense. “I didn’t tell Weston be—”
But I was too slow and Donovan cut in once more. “Do you think you can handle that?” He barely waited before adding, “Well?”
I paused for several seconds. “Are you going to actually let me answer?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Go ahead.”
Reminding myself that this wasn’t the first time I’d sparred with Donovan and yet somehow survived gave me confidence.
“Look.” I stood up and circled around to the front of my desk. “I told Weston that I had sex with you so that he wouldn’t feel guilty for having sex with Elizabeth. It was the right thing to do. I wasn’t informing him about ‘us’. I’ve told no one else, and I have no plans to. But what I do with my life and my body, at times, affects people besides you, and when it does, I do intend to be open with them. Do you think you can handle that?”
Donovan was silent for a few beats, his features unreadable. Finally his head tilted questioningly. “Weston slept with Elizabeth? That makes things confusing for the pool.”
I threw my head back. “That’s what you got out of that? Did you listen to anything else I said?”
“I heard you,” he said, flatly. “I’m glad we’re in agreement on the matter.”
“You’re glad we’re in agreement? What’s that supposed to mean?” I was the one who sounded worked up now, but honestly, Donovan didn’t appear any more relaxed than he did when he walked in.
He crossed his arms in front of him. “We both are on board with a just sex, no strings private affair. That makes things simple.”
Fuck if anything felt simple. I still had fresh wounds; some that I was sure were going to leave bruises. Even if I didn’t want Donovan to see the deeper injuries, the surface damage he’d done deserved an apology at the very least.
“Was that your way of addressing the subject?” I asked, bristling. “You accuse me of making a big scandal and when you find out you’re wrong you say I heard you, that’s simple, and that’s all I get?”
His lips curled up slightly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No. You get dinner. Eight o’clock. The driver will text.”
“You still want dinner?” To say I was appalled was putting it mildly.
Before I knew it, he was in front of me. “Now I’m more interested in dessert.” With his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my already erect nipple. “I believe you are too.”
He pinched harder, and something about the cold, intense way he stared into me as he delivered the pain made me feel it was more than an erotic gesture. It was a warning. Or a punishment. Or proof that this situation wasn’t as simple as he wanted to believe it was, and this was the outlet of his frustration.
It confused me more. Riled me up more. But as much as I wanted
to pretend it didn’t affect me, I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped.
“I like that,” he whispered against my mouth then kissed me quickly, ending with a painful nip of my lower lip.
“See you later,” he said then started to go, leaving me a mess. Leaving me unsteady and turned on and annoyed and pissed off, and somehow, out of everything up in the air, my head went back to there’s no us. If there was no us, what was this? What was it when he and I were together like this, surrounded by such a strong field of electricity that we were practically wired together? Wasn’t that an us?
He meant a romantic us. I knew that and to make the argument would be to debate semantics, a battle I’d never win with Donovan.
But I had enough of a temper fuming that I had to direct it somewhere. “Didn’t Weston explain why I told him?”
Donovan hesitated, his hand on the door handle. “He didn’t say anything. He made a joke. It felt too direct to be a coincidence.”
All the blood that had drained from my face earlier returned with a flourish. Donovan hadn’t even had any proof that I’d said anything at all. He’d accused me on a fucking whim. I’d been pissed but now I reached a new level. A level that was somehow more intense and yet eerily calmer.
“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” The flatness of my tone scared even myself.
“Wasn’t like I was wrong.” His sneer looked sexier on him than it should.
No, that wasn’t what happened. “You said…”
When I trailed off, he finished for me. “I said ‘You told Weston’. I never said he told me anything.”
I felt hot. Like my physical temperature was rising.
Donovan looked at me with a delighted smirk. “You know, the harder you glare at me, the more I look forward to dinner.”
Dinner? “You’ve got quite the balls, Kincaid.” I was amazed I could talk so steadily. I was seething. “I can’t believe you expect me to still show up tonight. I’m so pissed off right now.”
Dirty Filthy Rich Men Page 19