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“I’ve got you, Monica. It’s all right. Have you climaxed by yourself before…?” he asked, those intent green eyes still on her face, still watching her.
She nodded because she couldn’t even speak the “yes”.
“Then this will be just like it. Except it might take you even higher. Feel this spot here…?” He pressed deeper, and somewhere inside her, almost against her stomach, jolted her with pleasure. “That’s your G-spot. Do you like it when I touch you there?”
She almost bucked when he stroked again, shooting arrows of pleasure to her toes. She held him like a lifeline as her hips swiveled to his hand, desperate for more, for the release she could feel building, building, higher, higher. In the tiny part of her mind that remained working she noticed his breathing had also changed, almost matching hers. For a brief moment, she caught him staring down at her breasts, his eyelids halfway as he surveyed the swells, before he lifted his eyes to hers.
He was inhaling roughly, his powerful chest rising and falling, and when he leaned closer and his lips brushed her ear, his voice became the sexiest thing on the planet to her. “Now I want you to think of how you feel with my fingers inside you. Think of your breath, Monica, how fast it is.… Do you feel the way you’re rubbing your nipples against my chest? Do they hurt?”
She noticed her nipples, hard as pencil erasers, poking against his chest, and a fresh wave of desire rushed through her.
“You’re so wet and tight around my fingers, I bet those little nipples hurt. I bet if I seized them and pinched, you’d like it. I bet when I roll my tongue over them—”
Her cry of bliss silenced him as she exploded with his seductive words in her ear, his touch, his heat, convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her while his fingers relentlessly pushed in deeper.
Even after the shudders subsided, she found herself still slightly rocking, not wanting to stop, never wanting to stop, but having to when his fingers withdrew from her. She fell still, and then an awareness of her surroundings gradually settled on her.
Her pussy felt sore and hot. Daniel was very quiet, breathing hard and fast beneath her. She reached between their bodies and lightly stroked her fingers over his zipper, caressing the impressive bulge she’d seemed to dampen with her juices. Tentatively, she pressed her hand tighter against him and asked, “Do you want me to…”
“Jesus!” He came apart with that touch, convulsing beneath her, and Monica watched him, shocked, instinctively grinding down with the heel of her palm as he jerked and pumped against her.
The sight of his orgasm, his muscles bulging, his body bucking, his hips pushing to her hand, his face contorted, eyes closed, sent a fresh new wetness between her thighs. She didn’t think she could get aroused again after the orgasm she’d had, but she did. Too much.
Her nipples jutted, her body still hungry. Hungry for another cataclysm like the one he’d given her. But … could men do so many in a row? She’d never watched any want her so soon. It usually took them days to recover.
Suddenly, Daniel pulled her against him and nuzzled her as he struggled for breath. “Tell me I didn’t just go off in your hand,” he murmured.
The reminder made a fresh wave of heat crash over her. Of him coming like that, his big body overtaken.… The mental replay caused a tightening deep in her abdominal wall.
This was too much involvement for her brain.
The sight of him coming would be permanently embedded in her brain now.
She already wanted to go back to her apartment and to bed, where she wanted to relive it just one more time. Or two.
God, this was too exciting. But then this was why Roland had been such a perfect man for her. He was a great man, used to the same kind of lifestyle as she was, but Monica would never be wildly in love with him. He would never really know her vulnerable parts, he would never hurt her to the point of driving her mad like her parents had driven themselves to death.
Searching for the remains of her strength after that mind-boggling orgasm, she knew Daniel wasn’t a man to hand-hold, and if she stayed, he’d want more. She couldn’t handle any more. These strange throbs in her body were completely alien and discomforting to her—and they were shockingly intensifying every second she remained on his lap.
She had to go.
Hating to leave the safe little nook in his arms, she looked into his eyes, her lips curling. “I think that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” she said honestly, feeling a strange heat flow to her cheeks.
He laughed and swatted her butt as she untangled herself and went for her dress, then she called a cab from her cell phone, issuing out his address. She clicked off her phone and noticed he had not taken his eyes off her, and she still needed to put her dress on. “Mmm. I could fly home now, I think.” She smiled, shimmying back into her Vera Wang number, and he leaned back on the sofa, his eyes hooded.
“Seems to me the only lousy thing about you is your taste in men. You’re a little vixen to get a man with my record to … lose it like you just did. I’m not too happy about myself right now,” he said.
She laughed, wondering if he truly meant it or merely wanted to appease her ego.
He’d always been protective of her. Especially after what happened with her parents. When he went to change his clothes, Monica received an alert that the cab was outside, and she wrote him a text that read: Thanks. I needed that. MD
On her way home, she stared out the window at the twinkling city lights, feeling like the entire weight of Chicago had been lifted off her shoulders.
And was now sitting strangely in her throbbing, still-wet sex.
Chapter Two
Daniel hit the gym with particular relish the next day. He was sleepless, grumpy; every muscle in his body was tight with tension as he rammed his duffel into his locker and hung his suit on the hook inside the door. His cock hurt, his chest hurt, his fucking pride hurt.
