Page 65 of Winning Bid

33

JUNE

Anderson kisses down my stomach, slowly lowering to a kneel. I shudder when I feel his hand ride up my inner thigh. His heat scorches my skin through my tights. This is too far and not far enough at the same time. He’s such a fucking tease. I run my fingers through his hair, and he raises my skirt.

Wait—is he not teasing me? This isn’t right. I whisper, “What are you thinking?”

An unfair question. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’ve completely stopped thinking.

But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he rips apart my tights at the crotch, all the way to the waistband. I gasp, but before I can even speak, his fingers trace my anatomy over my underwear. Sensation trembles through me. Only then does he look up. “Palm over your mouth. Now.”

I follow his order, and feeling compelled only makes it hotter. Wrong. Against my grain. But hotter.

Anderson lifts my leg over his shoulder, scoots my soaking underwear out of the way, and tastes me. The moment his tongue brushes against my clit, it’s all I can do not to cry out. As he licks me, I’m sure we’re going to get caught. We’re going to get caught, and we’ll end up in pervert jail, I just know it. This is how it ends. With a bang and a whimper.

I curse under my breath before I hiss at him, “Baby, we can’t do this. They’ll hear me! Have you lost your mind?”

With a wet, sucking sound, he pulls his mouth off of me. The loss of sensation is so abrupt it’s almost painful. My body wants more, but my mind is demanding we stop. I didn’t know he could growl and whisper at the same time, but he manages. “We will get caught only if you keep talking. Be a good girl and stay quiet. You’re interrupting my meal. That’s rude.” Then he latches on again.

I obey, but it’s a struggle. It’s not in my nature to go along with things. I’m a fighter. I like to argue. This is all his fault. If he wasn’t so good at this, I might be able to stay quiet. Can’t, though.

But it doesn’t matter. I can’t stop, either. This feeling, this rush, it’s addictive. My desire for Anderson is overriding my will to stay safe, and I’m not even sure how much I care. I keep pushing my hips at him, silently begging for more even when I know better. Maybe that’s why I can’t stay quiet—the danger of this is getting me off.

I don’t recognize this side of myself. I’ve never been a thrill seeker. The most excitement I usually like is eating chocolate pudding with barbecue potato chips. Odd snacks can’t hold a candle to what is happening inside of me now.

His tongue circles my clit, while I wriggle and press against him for more pressure. Electric tingles dance through my body. The heat swells inside my belly, threatening to drown me in its tide. This is so naughty it borders on a felony, and I don’t care because I’m about to come harder than I ever?—

The squeaking gets close.

We freeze in place. I’m teetering on the edge, and I want to cry. If that cleaner ruins this orgasm, I will mourn the loss of it for the rest of my life.

But then the cart rolls away, and his finger enters me. I bite my fist to stop from shouting. I’m so tense that I’m tighter than usual, and the intrusion makes me shake against the shelving unit behind me. One shelf digs into the middle of my back, while another supports my ass, and another stops my head from tipping backward. Anderson’s mouth stays on my clit as his fingertip brushes against my G-spot, and I whimper for more. My body goes molten as he works me over, and it’s impossible to stop now. I’m at the precipice of something glorious and devastating, and there is no going back. When it hits, I bear down on my fist to stop from screaming in sheer ecstasy. I don’t even feel myself biting as waves of heat and bliss course through me. A hazy mind eraser of an orgasm.

I’m still twitching and gasping as I tap his head to tell him I’m done.

But apparently, he is not. He doesn’t stop, not even as I try to pull back. Anderson is too hungry for me to stop. I can’t believe he isn’t done yet—I’ve come. What else could he possibly want from this?

But he goes after me with some new sense of purpose, even more vigorously than before. I’m too sensitive to stay quiet for long, and a moan escapes me. Not even that stops him. Guess he’s stopped worrying about getting caught. But I am. We have to stop. I dig my nails into his scalp, but that only spurs him on. This isn’t the sweet favor a nice guy does for a woman. This is primal, rough, and utter perfection. A sexual mauling.

It's like he can’t get enough of my pussy.

His free arm hooks around my ass to pull me against him even tighter, and I’m pulled off balance, but that doesn’t matter. He has me trapped against him. I’m not going anywhere. I am helpless to do anything but stand here and take it. He’s forcing me to ride his face.

I brace on the other shelves as he brings me close again. Now, without my hand covering my mouth, I’m worried I’ll draw the cleaning crew’s attention. I turn my head sharply, biting my trench coat shoulder. But then I hiss down at him, “Baby, you’re done! It’s too much!”

But he still doesn’t stop. A throaty, proud chuckle echoes in his core. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. I’m so mad and so turned on that I can’t try to stop him. I want this, too.

I open my mouth wide to quiet down my gasps—if I keep my lips tight, they’re only going to get louder. Sounds like I’m doing Lamaze in here. Maybe we should stop?—

But then Anderson spreads me wider and adds a second finger. I shudder out the words in a breath, “Oh my fuck!” It’s so much. Almost too much. I’m going to come on him again. This is gonna get loud, and there’s no stopping me now.

That second finger slides out, thank god. He must have sensed that it was too far. The man reads my body better than anyone ever has, and I’m grateful for it. But then that wet second finger searches around. No, he wouldn’t. Not here. Not now. But then it enters my ass. Every nerve fires through me, and I can’t breathe.

I peep into my shoulder, biting the rough material in hopes it kills the sound. With a finger in my pussy and one in my ass, and his mouth on my clit, I’m ready to explode again. But then he slows down, drawing out my pleasure and making it delicious agony. His rapid rhythm slows to a painful crawl, and I’m about to beg him for more when I hear the squeaking nearby again.

All it will take is for them to open the door, and this goes from bad to deadly. So why am I about to come?

But I can’t even bring myself to worry about that right now. After a taste of sex on the edge, how are we supposed to go back to normal life? Vanilla sex is ruined now. The sharp pulse of danger makes me worry I’ll need this to get off every time. Normal sex will never be enough again. It can’t compete. How could it? Once you’ve flown first class, coach is never good enough.

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