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It was a risk.He knew this kind of head game would piss her off, wound up as she was, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was pissed off, too. They both needed this.
Besides, he knew, in a deep part of his brain, what got her off. She liked it when he came on strong, liked being overwhelmed. She liked extreme. Almost as much as he liked dishing it out to her. God, look at her. Following that bastard’s mistress, stealing the woman’s stuff out of her car, impersonating her to get into her room—Becca had nerves of steel.
She was an adrenaline freak. Just like him.
He could see it, arousal at war with pride on her flushed face. His dick ached, looking at it. Time to nudge and push some more.
“Scared?” he taunted her.
Her chin went up, her eyes sparkled. “Not of you. Jerk.”
“Then get your clothes off. Before I tear them off.”
She tossed her hair with a sniff, and took off her glasses. Tossed them on the desk top, trying so hard to look nonchalant.
Her awkward, fumbling striptease was unselfconsciously erotic. He could feel his own thudding heartbeat in his engorged cock, pressing painfully against the crotch of his jeans.
She peeled off the tank, revealing a retro-looking bustier made out of skin-toned satin. Rocket-launcher-pointy bra cups that propped her tits up high and offered them to the observer’s eye like the gift of God that they were. She shimmied and twisted to undo the hooks of the tight black skirt, and then wiggled out of it.
The rest of the formerly frigid lingerie made his mouth go dry. Sheer silky stockings, hooked up to a satin garter belt. French cut satin panties with ribbon ties holding the front and back panels together over the smooth curve of her hip. A transparent chiffon garter belt stretched over her belly, trimmed with satin ribbon, accentuating the alluring curves of her thighs, how they hollowed into her groin. Sheer silk stretched over her plump mound, the dark swatch of hair showing through. A web of tangled satin ribbon strips, holding the whole thing onto her perfect, sexy, lickable, fuckable body.
He was speechless. She was so beautiful, it killed him.
And she’d gone out and bought all that stuff today. For him.
She stood before him, hands moving helplessly, like she wanted to cover herself but was too proud to admit to feeling vulnerable.
He seized her wrists, tugged until she swayed forward. “Turn around,” he said. “Put your hands against the wall. Arch your back.”
“Nick, I—”
“I want to see what that outfit does for your ass,” he explained. “Don’t argue.” He hesitated. “Unless, of course…you’re scared.”
She made a derisive sound but did as he asked, looking back over her shoulder at him. “You,” she said breathlessly, “are very bossy. And crude. And I should not encourage you.”
“Probably not,” he agreed, staring at her ass. The outfit exalted it, as it deserved to be exalted. The back of the panties nestled tenderly up into the shadowy cleft of her ass, letting the bottom half of her smooth, perfect butt cheeks emerge, to be admired and worshipped.
He leaned forward, and nuzzled the undercurve with his lips. Jerked her thighs wide and tugged on her hips so she bent at a sharper angle, making it possible to press his lips right against the warm, puffy cushion of her soft, silk-covered labia. She gasped, wiggled.
He was sweating, too damn hot for her, so he ripped off the pullover and flung it away, reaching for her again with hands that were hungry for her amazing softness. Soft as goose down, soft as dandelion fluff, soft as newly unfurled leaves, things so fine and delicate, they were almost untouchable, but he couldn’t stop, even though the rough spots on his hand snagged and caught on the fine fabric. They rasped over her fine-grained, perfect skin. Her breath was fast. Her legs shook. She liked it.
“So,” she said, her voice full of fake bravado. “Does this getup fit your pornographic formerly frigid fantasy?”
He slid his hand between her legs, nudging it right up into that cloud of silky heat. She made an almost inaudible squeak, and her hot, soft thighs closed, trembling, around his hand.
“Actually, this is in a whole different league,” he admitted. “This leaves my fantasies in the dust. You blow my mind, angel. I am humbled by your beauty.”
“Humbled, hah. I hardly think so,” she said, sighing as his hand was drawn in by the shadowy glories between her thighs. “Ohh…if it works for you, it was money well spent.”
“Oh, yeah. It works.” He tugged on the ribbon ties of the panties, and pulled them off, letting them fall. He spun her around again.
Stared up at her glowing eyes, her parted red lips, the rise and fall of her chest, her naked, gorgeous muff.
Wow. He was wired to blow. His hands shook.
It scared him, how raw, how out of control he felt. He had to slow this down. Once he touched her with his tongue or his cock, that would be it. His technique would fly out the window.
He didn’t want to feel out of control. He’d felt that way all evening, staring at that fucking icon moving across the screen. He wanted to be sure of making her come, screaming. Blow her mind with orgasm after orgasm. He had to time it right. Slow it down. Way, way down.
