Page 9 of Bang Buddies With Benefits
For that reason—and that reason alone—I’d follow his instructions instead of wasting time on arguing or stabbing.
I reached behind me, contorting my upper body as I struggled to find the tab of my zipper. “Where is that stupid thing?”
“Here. Let me.” Zac gripped my hips and spun me around, fast enough a lock of my hair fell over my eyes. I blew it off my face as the light zing of metallic teeth filled the air. The straps of my dress slipped down my shoulders, and goose bumps spread across my skin as Zac peeled down the maroon fabric.
When it snagged on my hips, he tugged so hard that I wobbled on my heels. My palms hit the wall at the same time he caught me, his hand splayed across my lower abdomen, the tip of his pinky so close to the spot throbbing to life between my thighs.
The dressed puddled on the floor. I stepped one foot out and kicked it aside. In the next instant I was pressed flat against the wall, the heat of Zac’s body a delicious contrast to the cool air and texturized surface. He kissed my neck, and I tilted my head to the side to give him better access. He traveled all the way up, the combination of his soft lips and scruff leaving me far tipsier than any drink he’d ever served me. He was my fix, my addiction—one I feared I’d never get to indulge in again. My tolerance was down, my depravity way up.
Zac caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger, wrenching my face to his and kissing the corner of my mouth. “Tell me that red lipstick smears.”
“Nope. It’s that smudge-proof stuff that you hate, made to withstand eating, drinking, and…other things.”
“Worst invention ever,” he muttered on cue. “I was already dreaming of rings of red around my cock.”
“Wow, rather presumptuous of you that I’d be giving a blow job.”
He pushed his hips into me, his insistent erection notched in the seam of my ass. “Sorry, counselor, but you don’t get to be in charge of my fantasies. Even when you star in them.” He grazed his mouth over the top of my shoulder and skimmed a couple callused fingertips down the center of my spine. Then his hand rounded my hipbone and dipped inside the front of my thong. At the lightest brush of my clit, my entire body bucked and screamed out for more. “And don’t act like I wouldn’t make it worth your while. I can feel how turned on you are…”
He stroked me and a whimper slipped out, the bite on my lower lip too late to stifle the sound. “Which means you’ll do whatever I damn well say.” He dropped to his knees, one of his arms winding around my thighs and his hand clamping on the upper half.
Then he applied pressure, guiding me to sit on one of his shoulders so he could remove one of my shoes and then the other. Liquid pooled as he twisted his head and bit one of my exposed cheeks, the triangle of lace over my sex growing damp in an instant. “Now, be a good girl and sit this fine ass of yours down on my lap.”
In any other part of my life, his bossiness would drive me crazy. I’d stomp my foot and refuse. But the way Zac took charge during sex, wrestling me for control at every turn, only amplified my pleasure.
Not that I’d make it too easy on him.
I slid down the front of his body, looping my arm around his neck and draping myself over his chest. I purposely kept a few inches between his arousal and my butt as I settled on his lap, tipping up my head so that our gazes met. We were both peering at the other upside down, but the cleavage I was putting on display was the real power play. This bra boosted and displayed every inch. I’d wondered if a dress that required a strapless bra was too revealing for a work function, and a few dirty looks from older women let me know they certainly thought so.
Zac’s pupils went so wide and dark they nearly overtook the blue, and I’d gladly endure countless disapproving expressions in order to see the amount of desire in his.
“Do you really want to get into this power struggle with me? Tug o’ war, or tugging something else?” I dragged myself over his lap, stifling a moan at the incredible fiction. “It’s your choice.”
Every muscle in his body coiled that much tighter, and I grinned, a thrill going through me at our cat and mouse game. During our first couple of trysts, I wondered what was wrong with me that I required a bit of a fight, even during intimacy. Thanks to multiple orgasms, I no longer cared, freeing me to give into the compulsion. So now I fed it, my reluctance to leave his hard, ready length behind overpowered by the idea of driving him as crazy as he did me.
“While you’re pondering that, I’ll return the favor, and help you with your shoes.” I flung myself forward and undid the laces on his boots. The low gruff noise that punctuated the air meant my thong was also working in my favor.
He smacked my ass, the echo of it bouncing around the small space, a tribute to the tingly stinging sensation coursing down my core. Once I’d liberated one foot, he used it to remove his other boot.
On hands and knees, I spun and crawled up his body. I puckered my lips and batted my eyes. “Did you make your decision yet, Mr. Decider?”
“I did.” Zac plowed his hand through my hair, winding the strands around his fist and towing me closer for a punishing kiss. As he tasted and devoured, my body slackened, not nearly as strong as my witticism.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a blur of white material and then my back hit the floor—no, the tablecloth he’d laid out. Zac sat up with his knees on either side of my hips, andclangwent his belt buckle. My mouth went dry at the whizzing of his belt as he freed it from the loops.
One at a time, he thumbed the buttons on his shirt from their holes, and all I could do was gape as he revealed each tattooed inch of his torso. Slip went the shirt, down to the floor, and anticipation crested as he dipped his head, sights set on my panties.
He breathed heat onto the lacy fabric, not using his tongue or adding any pressure of fiction.
“Any day now would be great,” I whined, attempting to lift my hips and get more of him on more of me.
Rather than complying, the tease lifted his mouth a couple of inches. “Not so smart now, are you? Did you want to taunt me some more? Perhaps I should sit up so we could have a full conversation. Let’s see…” He twisted his head to the side, resting his whiskered cheek heavy on my inner thigh. “Did you know why motorcycles are sometimes called hogs? No?” he answered on my behalf, before I could tell him I couldn’t imagine anything I cared less about right now. “Harley’s racing team, the Wrecking Crew, had a small pig mascot, and the riders would do victory laps with him riding on the gas tank. Then H-O-G became the official acronym of the Harley Owners’ group. Pretty cool, right?”
“Is the goal to make me cry? Shall I counteract by spouting off legal facts, and telling you all about my boring work week?”
“Nah.” He licked the spot where my leg met my torso, and the world beneath me spun. “It’s to show you that I’m in charge, and that orgasms come to those who wait.”
I pushed up onto my elbows. “What if I tell you that I can’t wait to ride your big hog, and I don’t mean your motorcycle. Like, how long do you think it’ll be before someone finds us in here?”
