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Picking up my pace, I drop all pretenses and start fucking her with my fingers—in and out, in and out. Allowing myself just a moment to imagine my dick ramming into her pussy, I feel myself getting aroused right alongside Elsa.
That can’t happen. It’s one thing to make her come in the middle of Central Park, but I’ll be damned if I’ll lose control like that.
Especially not over something like a piece of ass. Even if it’s a sexy one, as this particular piece of ass may be.
Elsa has a lot of tells.
When she’s angry—really angry—she crosses her arms in front of her chest. When she’s nervous, she twirls her hair around her finger. And when she’s about to come, she grabs on and holds on for dear life.
Like she’s doing now, grabbing my neck and pulling me into an even deeper kiss.
I plunge my fingers even deeper, pumping in and out at a furious pace until I feel the unmistakable spasms that start at her pussy and undulate like waves crashing throughout her body. Forget our musical trio, we’ve got the whole damn symphony playing in beautiful harmony.
If we were at my penthouse, there’s no doubt I’d be plunging my throbbing dick into her wet pussy right now. The park cops might be a little lenient on some heavy petting, but I imagine they’d draw the line at all-out fucking. And going all-out in bed with Elsa is the only way to go.
I satisfy myself by thoroughly reveling in her pleasure, as she’s starting to come down from the orgasm high I so expertly gave her. I know this sounds crazy, but watching her come is almost as satisfying as my own orgasm. Almost.
I continue to kiss her as the spasms subside in her pussy. Once the vice-like grip on my fingers loosen, I reluctantly let them slip out, bringing them up to her flushed face and her swollen lips.
I place my index finger, covered in her love juices, into her mouth. She eagerly laps it up like a kid with a lollipop. The look in her eyes, hungry and satisfied all at once—it’s fucking sexy.
As I slide my second finger into her waiting mouth, I look over in the direction of my trusty photographer and throw him a little wink. He might have gotten quite a show tonight, but I’d say my view is infinitely better.
The only thing better than my view, when Elsa surrendered to her pleasure, was the heady power I had felt in getting her there. Of working her up into a frenzy to where she willingly, even eagerly, did my bidding.
Putty in my hands. Well, pussy in my hands actually.
I reluctantly pull my fingers out of Elsa’s pouting mouth. With a last kiss, I pull her skirt back to a more respectable position. Lady or not, she was certainly a Dirty Little Angel tonight.
Cupping her face in my hand, I continue to plunge my tongue into her mouth. I don’t want to break our kiss, break the spell we’re under.
But I know that real life is waiting for us as soon as we stand up.
Chapter 9
Elsa
“That went well, don’t you think?”
Tanner asks me this as if he’s been manning a PowerPoint presentation at a meeting instead of manhandling me in a public park.
I square my shoulders and try to put myself back in business mode as we walk side by side.
“Yes. Enough affection to show we’re serious, while still leaving them.”
I look down from his triumphant grin to his still-tight pants—wanting more.
We reach the entrance of the park. Our work here is done. Now would be a good time for us to go our separate ways.
Instead, Tanner grabs my hand in front of everyone and leads me through the front gates like the grand marshal in a sex parade.
I keep my head down, hiding my flushed face, as we weave through the crowd. If he sees how hot and bothered I am, I will be very bothered.
I lean in and whisper, “Is the reporter still watching us?”
“Nope.”
“Is anybody else watching us?”
