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He tastes so good. Like mint. Like Ian.
One hand goes to my lower back. The other goes to my chest.
He cups my breast with his palm. Runs his thumb over my nipple with slow, perfect circles.
His kiss is hard. Hungry. No patience. All need. Like he’s going to die if he doesn’t consume me.
He tugs at my hair, pulling me back. Then his lips are on my chin, neck, chest.
He sucks on my nipple until I groan. Moves to the other. Teases it mercilessly.
His suit covers too much. I can’t touch him properly. Only his neck.
My hands go to his tie. I fumble over the knot—I’ve never used a tie before.
He breaks the kiss. “Like this.” He places his hand over mine. Shows me how to unfold the fabric. How to peel it from his neck.
He’s more wild without the tie. Or maybe it’s the look in his eyes. Like he’s a predator and I’m his prey.
It should scare me.
Instead, it makes my sex clench.
“Give me your hands.” His voice stays firm.
I stare back as I place my hands in my lap.
“Behind you. Like this.” His hands go to my hips. He unbuttons my shorts then he turns me ninety degrees, so my back is to him. “On your belly.”
Huh?
He takes my hands. Places them on the bench seat on front of me. Helps me onto my belly.
My forehead on the leather seat. My chest against his thigh. My stomach against his crotch.
I can feel him, hard against my belly. But still slow and patient.
He brings his arms behind my back. “Palms together.”
I press my hands together.
He loops the tie around my wrist. Cinches a loose knot and pulls it tighter. Tight enough to restrict my movement.
Silk around my wrists.
His expensive tie binding me. Leaving me splayed over him, utterly at his mercy.
Slowly, he rolls my jeans over my ass and hips. All the way to my knees.
So my shorts are binding my legs.
He runs his fingers over my panties, pressing the soft fabric into my tender skin.
The friction is divine. Too much and not enough.
He does it again. So softly I can barely feel it.
Then again.
Again.
Until a groan falls off my lips. Then too many groans to count.
Fuck, that feels good. Too good.
He strokes me again and again.
Until I’m wound so tight I can’t take it.
I need his hands on my skin.
Still, he strokes me with his first two fingers.
His other hand goes to my lower back. He presses me down, just enough I feel his hard-on against my stomach. Just enough my entire body fills with need.
“Say my name when you come, vixen.” He knows exactly where I am. Exactly how he’s working me.
Exactly what I need.
I’m splayed over his lap in nothing but my panties, my wrists bound by his tie, my legs bound by my shorts.
I’m utterly at his mercy.
And it thrills me.
He winds me tight and tighter. Pushing me closer and closer.
My eyes close.
My world floods with soft, white light. Not the dim mood lighting of the limo, but pure, perfect pleasure.
It washes over me like a wave. Sends bliss through every single molecule inside me.
My sex pulses as I come.
I groan his name, arching my back, reaching for his hand.
He doesn’t release me when I’m finished. Instead, he rolls my panties over my ass, hips, thighs.
They fall down my legs, joining my shorts.
“Spread your legs.” He presses his palm between my shoulder blades. Telling me he’s in control. Holding me steady.
It’s enough I can part my thighs.
“You’re perfect, Eve.” He runs his fingertips over the flesh of my ass. “Has anyone told you that?”
“Only you.”
“I haven’t told you enough.” His fingers brush the curve of my ass. The crook of my thigh. Then closer and closer and closer—
Then back up my thigh, ass, lower back.
He traces a line up my spine. Over my shoulder, chin, cheeks.
He catches my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
Then the digit slips into my mouth.
I suck hard. It’s not enough. I want more. But this is what I have and I want every drop.
He pulls his thumb back. Slips his first two fingers into my lips.
The strangeness of the gesture fades quickly. I need him in my mouth. Whatever I can get.
“Good girl,” he growls as I suck at his fingers.
I’ve never wanted that before. Never thought about taking a man into my mouth. Teasing him, tasting him, drawing out his bliss.
I groan against his fingers until he pulls them from my mouth.
There’s no teasing this time. He brings his hand to my sex. Slips both fingers inside me.
A gasp falls off my lips. “Fuck.”
It’s not pain. More pressure.
Too much. So much I can barely breathe.
He’s inside me.
It’s his hand, not his cock, but it’s still a part of his body in mine.
It soothes the ache. Fills the emptiness.
