Page 59 of City of Wind and Lies

"Goddamn it!" I hiss, thrashing against the seatbelt. "I hate it when you do that!"

His face is impassive as he unclasps his belt, pulls his swollen cock out from the confines of his boxer briefs, and starts to stroke himself, using my juices on his fingers as lube. Red hot need prickles beneath my skin as I twist around in vexation from being left in sexual purgatory again.

"You wanted the punishment, Bella," he chuckles.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing away the tears of frustration I feel building behind my eyes so as not to ruin my makeup. Fuck it! Patience has got me nowhere, time to try a different tactic. Jutting out my bottom lip, I bat my lashes at Bowie, playing to his weakness.

Me.

"Bowie," I whimper. The desperation in my voice comes easily, because that's exactly what I am right now. Desperate. In fact, I don't know if I've ever felt as damn desperate as I do in this moment.

His motions stop, a tiny crack forming in his façade as he meets my gaze.

"Will you behave when I tell you to?"

"No," I fire back.

"Good," he chuckles, reaching across and freeing my wrists.

I flex my hands, suddenly realizing they'd started to go numb. Bowie holds out his own hands, palms up, tipping his chin. "Let me see."

"I'm fine," I breathe, rotating them in the air between us. "Sexually frustrated. But my wrists are fine."

"Come here," he rasps, widening his legs. His hands circle my waist as he helps me over the gearshift and onto his lap. "I'll take care of you."

"Oh god," I cry out as he slams me down on his throbbing cock.

My thighs quake with desperation as his tip hits my G-spot, and I grip the cool leather of the steering wheel. His knees push mine closed and his fingers dig bruisingly hard into my hips as he drives deep inside me with each punch of his pelvis.

I throw my head back on his shoulder as my orgasm starts to barrel down on me. My palm splays across the fogged-up glass of the driver’s side window, the other on the roof as I brace myself in place. He's not going to edge me this time. He kneads my breasts roughly, using them to guide my body up and down his cock.

"Fuck!" I shout, squeezing my eyes shut as my release rockets through me with an intensity I've never experienced. My skin tingles, legs quivering, and I pound my fist into the center console as I come harder than I have before in my entire life. Bowie's not far behind, his hot release filling me, his chest rising and falling against my back as we both work to catch our breath.

He presses his lips to my temple. "No matter how hard we play, know I will always let you win."

Fully blitzed out and sated, I blink my eyes open and look out the windshield to the building we are parked in front of.

A church.

I'm not religious by any means, but I'm sure that I've just punched my ticket to hell, and with Bowie in the driver's seat, I'm not sure there's any place I wouldn't follow him.

20

"Right this way," the maître d' says, motioning for us to follow him.

I slide my hand to the small of Wren’s back and guide her across the expansive dining room, shifting her body in front of mine so I can take a moment to admire how fucking gorgeous she looks tonight.

The dress she's wearing clings to her body like a second skin, and my eyes aren't the only ones following the soft sway of her hips as we make our way to the balcony seating area.

I'm having second thoughts on letting her wear these excuses for dresses, even if it's with me.

I clench and unclench my fist at my side as my head swivels with each step, throwing each man with wandering eyes a caustic stare that has them suddenly finding the floor extremely interesting. It's a practice in self-restraint, really. Though I’m smugly satisfied with the knowledge that her cunt is stuffed full of my cum as she takes her seat.

That detour was easily worth being thirty minutes late for our reservation. Savor'd is part of my portfolio; I provided some capital for them to expand to this top-floor location a few years back, so even if they were annoyed by our tardiness, they were still accommodating. The place is impressive and the balcony boasts a view people would kill for. From our corner table upon it, you can see the sparkling lights of the city and Lake Michigan without even trying.

I've brought women here to dine before, but never requested a table outside. The stunning view seemed too good to share with them, like their eagerness to please me or grab for my money would spoil the memory. But I couldn't think of a better person to share this with than Wren.

Hopefully, her reaction to what I have to tell her won't taint the view.

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