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It was a thank you, but somehow it’s turned into something more malevolent. Dacre’s hand grips my wrist. I try to wrench it free, but he’s not letting go. His breathing has deepened and I can feel the tension between us. Memories of what Nolan did to me come flooding back. I hadn’t wanted it, but I’d participated willingly. I’d enjoyed it. Maybe the kiss was never meant to be just a thank you at all. Maybe I’ve been kidding myself. All the way home, I closed my eyes and listened to his breathing. I know it now. I can tell the difference between Dacre and Mercier without them having to speak. They smell so different, too. Dacre currently smells of his expensive cologne and the whisky he’s been drinking.
“I want to go to bed,” I say, pulling against him again. It’s only half true. I’m scared of what he’ll do to me, but if he lets me go now and I get out of this car, I know I’ll be forever wondering. Nolan ignited something in me, but it’s Dacre that’s making me burn. My body is waging war against my mind and I don’t know what to do. Then his mouth is on mine and the decision is taken away from me. I felt him moving toward me and I knew what was going to happen, but my body didn’t react in time. My flight or flight mode shut down and another involuntary reaction has taken its place.
His lips are warm. I concentrate on the taste of the whiskey on them, because I’m not ready for this intrusion. My cheeks flame as a jolt of electricity sparks through my veins, reigniting something primal within me. He growls against my lips, pushing forward. One hand is still on my wrist, which I’ve completely given up trying to pull away from. His lips have done a much better job of keeping me here with him. With Nolan, him touching me was a learning moment, whereas this feels real. His other hand is at my back now, pulling me to him, deepening our connection. I can’t see him, but my eyes flutter closed as he parts my lips with his tongue. They say that when a person is blind, all their other senses are heightened. I don’t know about that, but I do know that all my senses are zoned in on his lips against mine, his tongue exploring my mouth. Despite myself, I kiss back, exploring him. It’s like being pulled into a world I know nothing about without a guidebook, and yet it feels so natural. I hate how much my body seems to need this, even as my mind is trying to figure a way out of it. He pushes me further still until my wrist feels the cold glass of the window on the back of it, a stark contrast to the heat that is beginning to pool between my legs. I let out a slight gasp as he leans right over me. I feel the weight of him, half on me, half on his own seat. I’m laid back at an odd angle, my body uncomfortable. I try to push back against him to move into a more comfortable position, but that only seems to spur him on. He moves from my lips, trailing kisses to a spot just under my ear.
“Dacre,” I breathe out, still trying to push him away. This was supposed to be my Cinderella moment where I’m kissed by a prince, but Dacre is no prince and I’ve never been Cinderella. “Alexander,” I shout out, much more forcefully. I can’t let this happen. No matter how my body is aching for something I don’t understand. I let Mercier take advantage. I can’t let Dacre do the same. I’ll be nothing but the whore he keeps calling me.
The euphoria from the dance and two glasses of champagne falls away and fear takes over. I yank my hand again, but now that he’s on me, I know it’s not going to have much of an effect. Yet, he holds it still, moving his hand slightly until his fingers are intertwined with mine. It’s a soft caress, and yet the intention is anything but. I don’t clasp his fingers like he’s clasped mine. Instead, I keep my hand outstretched, concentrating on the coolness of the glass as the back of my fingers pressed against it. His free hand moves up my dress, skirting my inner thigh until he gets to my panties.
“Don’t!” I cry out as he slips his fingers beneath them. Then my words are lost, and the fight dies in me as he rubs his thumb on my clit. I let out a gasp, partly of outrage and partly because I’m lost.
“You’re so wet, Lucy.”
My brain jolts at the new name for me and somehow that feels more personal, more intrusive than what his fingers are doing to me. Hot tears spring to my eyes and I feel them weave a warm trail down my cheeks.
“Relax into this. I won’t hurt you.”
He has no idea just how much he’s already hurt me by using that name. It’s not meant for him to use, but as his thumb draws circles around my clit and heat begins to envelop me, I find my anger slipping away in a mist of pleasure.
My hips work all on their own, pushing against his fingers, wanting to feel more. I despise myself for it, but I can’t stop. My breathing comes more erratically and I grit my teeth together. I inhale sharply as he takes the intrusion to another level, slipping his fingers inside me. My lips part and I let out a low moan. My body is no longer in my control.
When he moves away from me, taking his fingers from within my folds, I barely have the energy to react. My body is crying out for more. He took me to a new level, then stopped.
“Don’t,” I whimper again, my whole body craving for more. I don’t end the sentence. I don’t even know what I’m saying ‘don’t’ for. Don’t stop? Don’t let me go? Don’t do this?
He pulls my hand away from the window as he moves lower. My mind panics as he slips his head under my dress, but as his tongue touches my clit, taking over from his fingers, the panic falls away to be replaced by sensations I didn’t know my body could feel.
He knows what I need more than I do. Just like Mercier, he knows my body better than I. I hate that.
A feral groan releases from his throat as he begins to lap at me, circling my clit, then teasing it with the tip of his tongue. There’s no space for fear or hatred or disgust at what I’m letting him do to me. I have no control over my emotions anymore. I’m completely at his mercy. My pussy throbs against him and adrenaline courses through my veins as my fight-or-flight mode has switched into a desperate need to see how high he can take me. My body begins to shake and I’m no longer in a parking lot, but somewhere in the clouds.
“You taste like heaven, Lucy.”
I push forward, wanting more. He accepts the invitation, delving his tongue deep into me, invading me on a whole new, blissful level. I cry out, no longer caring if anyone can hear us. He moves back up to my clit, lapping harder and faster now. He inserts his fingers into the spot just vacated by his tongue. He presses the secret spot, but this time it’s a million times more powerful.
Without thinking, my fingers coil around his other hand and grip tightly as all the tension in my body centers on my core, abruptly exploding in a torrent of sensation. I let out a loud moan that’s closer to a yell than anything and has the name Dacre on my lips. My pussy clenches around his fingers as I ride wave after wave and then I see something. It’s nothing more than a brief flash of light that extinguishes almost as quickly as it came, but it was there. I really saw it.
29
DACRE
I’ve been with many women, but nothing I’ve experienced is as exciting as watching Lucinda Waldgrave screaming out my name as she comes. It’s not an ego thing. Most men would say it was, but watching the way her eyes fluttered and the intensity in them has gotten me so hard. It’s the shock on her face that makes me pause. Like she wasn’t expecting it. It’s even more of a turn on. She may not be a vestal virgin, but she sure knows how to play the part well. She should get a fucking Oscar. I stare at her eyes and the way she’s almost frantically looking around her. It’s like she can’t settle on one thing. I want her to see me so badly it’s fucking painful. I can’t change that, but I can ease up some of my pain. I pull my cock out and already feel some relief from the confines of my pants. If it wasn’t so dark, I’d rip her clothes from her body and worship her before plunging into her like some inexperienced schoolboy, but I can’t see much and she can’t see anything at all. Despite the flickering of her eyes, I know she’s ready for me. My fingers are slick with her wetness. Her cheeks are flushed and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in my whole goddamned life.
“What’s going on here?”
I turn quickly to find the fucking apartment security guard staring at me from the slightly open door of the driver’s side. His flashlight lands on me, then moves to Lucinda. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on here. I can smell her on my fingers and the way she’s reclined, the dress barely covering anything and her lips parted makes it clear we weren’t just parking the car.
“You alright, Miss? Has this man pushed his intentions on you against your will?”
I want to fucking murder him. He must know me. I certainly recognize him and yet it’s clear what he’s implying with the question. To be fair, my cock is still hanging out. I surreptitiously put it away and zip up as he focuses on Lucinda.
“Perfectly fine, thank you. In fact, I had a wonderful evening.” She pulls the handle and steps out of the passenger side with grace, despite having to pull her dress down where I’d bunched it up.
“Get your fucking face out of my car.” I push past the guard and slam the door before chasing after Lucinda. He won’t be getting any tips for me in the future, that’s for sure.
She’s walking away, confidently, but with a weird gait as though she’s feeling in front of her with her feet, but trying not to look as though she is. I take her arm and guide her to the elevator. The doors open and we step inside silently.
I will her to say something. Anything, but she just stares ahead and keeps her mouth shut. I don’t know what I expected, but I thought there’s be some gratitude at least. She might be a great actress, but I know a real orgasm when I see it. Anyone can fake moans and groans, but I’ve not once seen anyone be able to disguise the blush of red to the chest after the fact. She looks like she’s been fucked hard with her hair sticking up in every direction and the slight sheen of sweat on her brow. The glasses she’s been wearing all night are gone, lost somewhere in the car. I can’t really blame the guard for thinking the worst, but even so, anger palpates in me.
