Page 34 of Blackmail
I chuckle. A tinny voice tells me this Lehman dude is still talking when he hangs up.
“You’re a fucking menace.”
For some reason, that makes me laugh harder. “You have no idea.”
“I’m starting to.” His hand shoots out, wrapping around mine. Then he squeezes. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make it so I can’t keep stroking.
And damned if that doesn’t make even more blood rush to my dick. I swear I can hear the beat of my own heart right now, and it sounds like one of those parts in a suspense film where some shit’s about to go down.
The need to thrust into our joined hands is killing me. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
“I was at most, like, sixty seconds away from blowing my load, and I’d like to finish, please.”
His low laugh is the stuff of panty dropping. I’d have dropped mine by now if I were wearing any. Come to think of it, I guess my briefs are probably still on his bedroom floor. I’m commando in my suit pants, which I’m sure need to be dry-cleaned now.
“How about ‘please, Sir’?”
Oh, hell yeah. That shoots a bolt of lust and adrenaline right through me. I’ve had clients ask me to call them Sir or Professor or whatever kinky shit before. I had a guy who kept wanting me to tell him what a nasty little slut I was. At the time it was all I could do not to roll my eyes.
But now, with Sebastian holding my orgasm hostage, all I want to do is get on my knees and beg. Or bend over the nearest piece of furniture and present myself to him.
And beg.
“Please, Sir,” I whisper. It’s been a long fucking time since I thought hard about my relationship with spirituality, but something in those two words sounds almost sacred.
There’s not much light here, but I can see it when his eyes widen. Is that the lamppost in the parking lot, or is it his internally generated evil gleam?
Either way, there’s no mistaking the curve of his smile after.
He slides his seat back. “Climb into my lap.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Thank fuck he’s got a smooth, clean console tray, and it isn’t one of those old cars with a hand brake and a gearshift and whatnot in the middle. My buddy Dean has that kind of car. It’s terrible for car sex. I guess that’s fine for him since he’s already got a kid.
Landing on top of Sebastian makes me shiver. It’s probably a reminder that we’ve done this before. Or maybe it’s the heat in his gaze, the way it’s still locked onto mine as he undoes his belt and gets his dick out.
The way he groans out loud when his shaft slides against mine. Fuck yes.
“Fuck yourself against me.” His words are quiet, but the command is clear.
“Yes, Sir.” I stick my tongue out when I say it. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.
There’s a look on his face that tells me I might pay for that later, but I’m too lost in pleasure to care. He can put it on my tab.
This is the worst kind of temptation. If he keeps touching me like this I’m going to forget why I said no to seeing him again.
“You feel so good against me. Your skin is so smooth and perfect. Look at that. Look how we fit together. I want to see your cum mixed with mine. I want to see you lose control all over me. I want you to scream so loud the whole fucking neighborhood knows how good I’m making you feel. God, I can’t stand how much I want you.”
Hoo-boy. In case I haven’t mentioned it already? This guy can get it with the dirty talk.
I should know. I’m a professional.
He’s got one hand wrapped around both our cocks and another wrapped around my hip. His fingers dig into me, and there’s a delicious ache from the bruises he gave me last night. I’m going to be covered in marks. It should piss me off, but right now, it’s exciting. I’ve never felt like this. Not just wanted, but needed.
Claimed.
I’m racked with shivers. Every nerve in my body is tingling. “I’m close.”
