Page 19 of Dangerous Devotion

“Unless you’re using pickle as a euphemism,” I tease.

It’s hilarious the way he grabs all our trash to stuff it in a bin and catches my hand to hurry me along to his car.

“If you want me, you just have to say so,” he says, tugging me into the circle of his arms, nuzzling the shell of my ear with his hot mouth.

I expect him to take me home, but we go to his club. I didn’t know men still had clubs like it’s London in the nineteenth century. But in no time, we’re whisked through a dim, wood paneled foyer and ushered to a private sitting room. There are leather chairs, a glass and walnut humidor, a crystal decanter set on the bar cart. The man who shows us the room reminds us to press the call button if we want anything further. Jack dismisses him.

“What is this place? Where you go to smoke and drink and unwind when your fancy penthouse is too crowded?” I tease.

“It’s a place to meet clients that’s outside my offices, more private, with all the amenities.”

His voice is dark with seductive promise and my skin heats at the prospect. I go to him where he sits on the sleek burgundy leather couch. My stomach is already starting to clench in anticipation of the pleasure. Every nerve in my body has learned fast, trained to anticipate the riot of ecstasy he’ll bring me.

Jack shrugs out of his tailored blazer, reveals his broad muscular shoulders and chest, the shadow of dark chest hair just visible through his white button down. My mouth waters at the sight, my heart hammering like I’ve run a marathon. I’m so worked up just knowing what to expect.

A grin slides across my face, and I know he registers my expression. He reaches up, traces the plain crew neck of my t-shirt with one finger. He lifts one eyebrow in question. Color floods my face, I nod my head too fast, wonder if it’s possible to give myself a concussion by saying yes too hard. He pinches the fabric, his other hand joins the first, and with a sharp tug, I hear the hiss of fabric ripping. My t-shirt hangs open all the way down the front. I’m breathing hard, turned on by his urgency, his primitive desire to tear off my clothes.

I set one hand on his shoulder and bend at the waist, my mouth brushing his cheekbone, reveling in the rough stubble, the salt flavor of his skin. His attention is riveted by what my ripped shirt revealed I didn’t wear a bra this morning. Now I’m glad I didn’t because there’s no barrier between my aching, heavy breasts and his big bare hands.

He fondles me, massages my breasts, suckles a nipple. He teases me, too soft, too light to give me what I crave. He knows this and I can practically feel him trying not to laugh as I dig my fingertips into his scalp, urging him on. Jack lifts his head and grins wicked as hell.

He wraps a big hand around my bare thigh, pushes the seam of my shorts to the side and traces the freshly shaved, plump flesh inside my panties. The tight fit, his thick fingers pushed against my lower lips by the underwear and shorts, gives me friction. My hips buck.

“God, yes,” he mutters, his mouth fastening onto my neck while he parts my slick folds and groans something that isn’t even a word.

Unable to resist the sleek invitation, Jack dips one finger into my pussy. My nails scrape half-moons into his shoulder. He peels my shorts off—I’m not even sure how he does it and bends me back over his arm. Lifting my hips, he licks me slow and lingering, his clever tongue circling my clit. I bite my lips to try to hold out, greedy enough that I don’t want to come yet.

He twists his wrist, the finger buried inside me curling and twisting as I bear down on the invasion, savoring every touch, every flutter of bliss. Jack lifts his face from my pussy and gives me that filthy grin.

Jack lays back on the couch, bringing me with him, his fingers deep in my core. My inner muscles flutter around his thick digits, wanting him to twist, tap and push, to fill me and let me have all those sensations he has at his literal fingertips that could make me beg without any effort at all.

“Sit on my face,” he commands, taking me by surprise.

His voice is pure temptation. I shake my head, embarrassed. He’ll decide now that I’m too vanilla for him. He didn’t ask for handcuffs or a threesome—but I can’t even bring myself to do this. My face flushes, and I can’t look at him.

I hold my breath, waiting for him to let go of me, to fix his cuffs and unlock the door, look at me in disgust. I venture a peek at him because a minute or two pass and nothing happens.

I’m still on his lap, acutely aware of his fingers curving inside my channel, touching me gently, enticingly. When I dare to look at him, he meets my eyes, looks concerned. He slides his fingers deep in my hair, cradles my head, kisses my mouth.

He doesn’t speak and neither do I. But whatever fear I had just closed up, demolished by pleasure when he draws those fingers out of me and sides them back in, thumb tapping my sweet spot until I’m riding his hand. A thrum, a pulse begins between my legs and grows, a thunderous rhythm that eclipses everything, draws my body so taut that my legs cramp up.

There’s soft classical music piped in for ambience. As I drift on surges of pleasure, I notice that his fingers follow the the rhythm and beat of the music. I wish for a moment I knew who composed it, this famous symphony that Blackjack Marino is fucking me to.

I lose track of how many times I’ve come already and he just keeps working me over. I slide my fingers through that dark hair, and he goes harder until I sob his name, my inner muscles gripping the long fingers he crooks inside of me. He lifts his head and grins. I’m completely exposed, debauched, but that look on his face—that makes me blush.

I unbutton his pristine white shirt and paint his hard, hairy chest with my tongue. I push my bare nipples against his chest, revel in the tantalizing scrape of curling chest hair against sensitized flesh. Jack steadies me, his fingers on my spine, tracing the line of my backbone through the film of sweat clinging to me. He leans in and nuzzles my neck, inhales deeply to catch my scent and gives an approving nip of my neck.

I reach between us, unzip his trousers. His cock bursts out of his zipper fully erect, the head a deep purple, gleaming with damp drops of precum. I want to drink it up, want to slide it all over my body to mark me as his.

He rolls his hips between my thighs, dragging his heavy length against my tingling core. His tip notches at my opening. I lift up on my knees, straddling his lap, my boss, my lover. Both his hands go to my back, pulling me closer until he can slide me down the length of his shaft. It takes two more strokes to get me comfortable enough to take it all. Tension snaps through my muscles, freezing me up motionless when he stretches me to my limit and bottoms out. Experimentally, I rock back and forth,

He grabs my face to kiss me, his tongue in my mouth matching the rhythm of his cock stirring inside me, filling every space until I know I can’t take any more. There is no getting used to how big he is, just cramming me full. My body gets wetter, making space for him as I tip my pelvis back make a little more room. I’m looking down at the spot where we join, his fat cock spearing me, my flushed lips parted over his organ that is both plush and brutal within me. Jack brings his hand to my clit. Our eyes meet. His rough fingertips stroke my bare flesh just above my mound.

“I like this,” he says with a smile, “how you shaved for me so I can see how pink and pretty you are, so I can touch you with nothing in my way. “

My eyes lock onto the place he’s touching me, the lewdest sight: the pad of his thumb just above my clit, tugging the tiniest bit, lifting the hood. Lightning sizzles through me at his thumb commanding my entire body, every nerve and cell working in concert as he directs my pleasure.

I bite down on my lip and jerk my hips forward, swallowing the last inch of his cock and rocking, riding him hard. The slap of our flesh drowns out the piano music and sounds filthy in the silent room. He works me over then, the fingers of one hand teasing my mound, my outer lips, while the other clenches around my breast, then pull and pinch on my nipple making it stand out, reddened and hard.

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