Page 82 of Turbo

“How do you know him?”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen me dance.”

“Just dance, right?”

“Bugs, you called me by a road name in a clubhouse, kissed the ever loving shit out of me and I’m about ninety-nine percent sure you were taking me somewhere to get naked. All of these things I’m doing without so much as a fake, oh, no I’m a good girl, I couldn’t possibly.”

His eyes lowered like a kid caught in a lie after church.

“Now, I’ve gone a whole week with only memories of what your tongue can do and daydreams of positions we have yet to attempt. Are you going to stay out here, beat your chest and cry out about how I’m yours,” she asked, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Or are you going to bring me to a bed and make me yours?”

* * *

His. The idea tempting, bringing out the feral side of him, the idea of claiming a woman beyond the moment. She was his turbo sized engine that never quit and he had a whole thirty six hours before he was due in the DA’s office. Where was a doctor with little blue pills because if he was going away, he was going to suck the very last of the life he could before he did.

“What’s in the bag?” he questioned, his head already a bit light because all the blood in his body had flown south.

“A very respectable dress and low heel if you need or want me to go to court with you.”

“And?”

“Rope, riding crop, nipple clamps, this wax that leaves the brightest pink mark on my skin,” she said as he practically ran to the room he’d been using and locked the door. “It was the nipple clamps, wasn’t it?”

Unlocking her legs she slipped from around his waist, but his hands never left her. They couldn’t, her body was magnetic and all he wanted to do was spend an hour memorizing the feel of her under his palm. She may say he was being given the right to claim her, but he knew it would be wrong. So wrong when he didn’t know if he would be free in week, a month or a year. Right now he was on borrowed time and it would be unfair to think Turbo would wait for him. Calling her name or not, he understood he couldn’t truly be with her until he was guaranteed freedom.

“Never in my life would I have thought being restrained would turn me on,” he confessed. “Next thing you know you’ll be pegging my ass.”

“Fingers crossed,” she giggled, tossing her leather jacket to the side and spinning from him.

She put her bag on the upholstered chair in the corner and unzipped to reveal a treasure trove of toys. But he didn’t want that. There wasn’t a need in this moment to have the restraint to keep him focused on the sensations. To steal away a dozen thoughts so he could focus. Turbo was all he needed and his body declared it so as he slid in behind her and ran his hands up and down her upper arms. Her head lolled to the side as he peppered kisses along the column of her throat. Her hand reached back and around to cradle his head.

“What’s your pleasure, Michael,” she purred, the back of her pressing into him.

“You, just you,” he replied, reaching for the one thing in her bag he needed, the box of condoms.

The rest could wait, they were unnecessary items for now. Later, maybe, since he wasn’t a fool when it came to stamina. The guilty could sleep after being caught, but he had no guilt over the choices he made. Lives taken or saved, he’d learned long ago not to focus on, his only regret was not killing the man sooner.

Locking his arms around Turbo’s waist they walked, stiff-legged together until her knees hit the mattress. Part of him wanted to see her dance. To lie back on the bed and have her tempt and tease him. Moving to the music as her clothes slowly fell away. Then there was the part of him needing to push past the idea she’d danced for others. Tempted them into a back room where deals were struck and services exchanged. Maybe he did need to be bound and take the medicine he so heartily desired.

Instead, Turbo turned in his arms as she lowered herself to sit on the bed and tossed her shirt to the floor. Pulling the binder holding her ponytail, she let the bright sunrise colored hair fall over her bare shoulders. The nibble of her lower lip had him wondering if she was figuring the best mode of approach. Long manicured nails blazed a trail when she ran them under his shirt, marking him with long scratches from his chest to his waistband.

Chucking his shirt to the side she continued, gliding her hands across the expanse of his abs as if doing exactly what he’d been, memorizing the feel of his skin’s reaction to her touch. The phantom breath of her touch haunting the areas she’d already passed as she continued to move around. Her lips gliding along the light dusting of hair he had from his belly button, widening as she shifted and popped the top button.

He held his breath like a teenager as the zipper was slowly lowered, his cock only held back by the thin cotton barrier of his boxer. Pulling in on her lower lip, focus locked as she unwrapped and freed him from the confines. Her tongue glided along her top lip as if she were a kid, nose pressed to a bakery window.

Wet heat licked the underside of his cock, sending a shiver through his body as she circled the tip before plunging him into her mouth. Her hand circled in front of her lips as she sucked. The satin skin of her lips gliding along his shaft, replaced by her soft palms, the exchanged nearly indiscernible when she took him deep into her throat and retreated. The strokes heavenly as he grasped her hair. Wanting to control the speed, but the woman had him so gone he damn near couldn’t remember his name let alone how fast or slow he wanted to go.

Mind swimming in a mix of hormones and euphoria as if she’d somehow drugged him. The only addiction he had was to her and her body. He couldn’t see a world where there was ever too much of her. The sight of her taking him deep as her full lips surrounded his cock had his knees buckling and he feared coming too soon. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to have to wait to be inside her. Truly as his sack began to tighten as her other hand gripped the dangling betrayer.

Massaging his balls as if coaxing a dragon with sweet treats if only he’d follow the trail of crumbs. Bones were melting away in his body and much like he did when bound he no longer was in control. She was. Flicking her tongue on his tip, swirling around the head and then pulling in until she hit the back of her throat and only her last two fingers were wrapped around the root of him.

“Fuck, Turbo,” he cried, tugging her hair and knowing he wouldn’t last much longer. The ride too long, the day too short and her body too much to deny. “Stop. I can’t—Baby I need you to—”

She hovered, eyes struggling to open as she was lost in her own space, head still bobbing.

“Stop,” he breathed out the breath he’d been holding and losing all control. Pulsing against the mouth that pulled him in so deep her hand fell away and she clawed his ass to get a grip. Milking his orgasm to the point he nearly toppled over and had to brace on her shoulders.

Slowly, she slid her mouth back making sure the velvet of her tongue scorched a trail as she did. His body going limp as she pushed back to the headboard and plucked a half-drunk bottle of water from the nightstand. He’d dropped completely, his top half on the end of the bed, knees on the floor as he glanced up, blurry eyed at the cause of all his pleasure and distress in one alluring form.

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