I take another tiny sip, and he laughs, making me pout. “Are you laughing at the way I drink?”
“Are you laughing at my face? My unfair face?” He squeezes my knee harder.
Another flurry of shivers runs down my spine.
My gaze drifts down to his hand on my leg, then my thoughts traipse back to the diner, to the warning I gave myself.
I’m not going to blow him under the table.
And you know what? I didn’t.
I’m going to blow him in his library instead.
When I made that promise I had no idea the trifecta of whiskey-library-face seduction I’d be up against! No one in their right mind could fault me for breaking under this kind of pressure.
I finish my drink in a gulp, savoring the last drops of the lemon, the syrup, the bitters, letting them swirl on my tongue as I imagine other last drops.
A glint of curiosity crosses West’s dark eyes. “What’s on your mind?”
“Why would you think I have something on my mind?”
“Your eyes are ripping my clothes off.” He practically rumbles the words—a dirty, English rumble.
I set down the glass, feeling bold, feeling beautiful. Maybe it’s the drink. Maybe it’s West.
Maybe it’s me.
Whatever the reason, I want.
I want him. But I can’t lose myself in this man, so I choose my weapons wisely.
My mouth. That’s it. And I chart the course.
I slide a hand up his pants on a fast track for the thickening bulge that has all my attention. “I have a confession,” I whisper as I cover the hard ridge of his cock with my palm.
My breath catches; his hitches.
“By all means, confess. And I mean that in the bossiest of ways.” His husky voice makes a pulse beat faster between my legs.
I squeeze his cock harder, then I slide down to the floor. “I didn’t say yes to the drink because I was thirsty.” I work open the buttons, slide down the zipper.
“Let me guess, beautiful.” He slides a big hand through my hair, curling it around my head possessively, oh so possessively. “You came here because you were hungry? Hungry for my cock?”
A full-body shudder seizes me from head to toe, electrifies my cells. “Dirty talker.”
“Filthy,” he promises.
Damn. Yes, I could fall for this man.
But like this, on my knees, I’m in control of the moment.
And oddly enough, of my heart.
This is all I’ll allow.
The chance to please him.
I won’t be giving in to my soft heart if I take his hard cock to the back of my throat. I’ll just be giving in to my basest desires.
Those have a hold of me right now, and I don’t want them to let go.
He pushes his pants down his hips, to his thighs, gripping the base.
I lick my lips, then make a split-second decision. Reaching for my purse, I dip a hand into it and fish out a kinky baker girl’s best friend–a long, pink polka dot cloth headband that I use to hold my hair back by day.
And that West can use to pin my wrists with by night.
I dangle it in front of me. “I said I liked scarves.”
“But hair ties will do just fine,” he finishes, then makes a circling gesture with his finger.
I rise, turn around, and let the man bind my wrists behind my back.
Then I return to the floor, kneel before him, and give him my only order. “Like you said, I’m hungry. Please feed me your cock.”
13
West
Gladly.
And with so much pleasure.
Gripping the base, I offer my cock to the woman in the red dress.
The one on her knees.
Between my legs.
Asking for my dick to slide between her lips.
This is clearly a dream. The most authentic, lifelike, intensely real dream I’ve ever had. I watch Gigi part those red lips and practically beg for me to fill her mouth.
I push in the crown, and she wraps her lips around my dick like she’s just tasted the most succulent dessert. Groaning, I curl a hand through her hair. “That’s right, beautiful,” I murmur as she draws me in deeper, swirling her tongue over the head, sending bolts of pleasure straight to my balls.
She hums around my shaft as she takes me in farther, bringing me deeper into the warm paradise of her mouth.
A shudder wracks me as Gigi opens wider, flicking her tongue as I slide home, and then, she takes me to the back of her throat on a sexy, needy pant.
Her eyes float closed, and she looks enraptured.
I am on fire.
Flames lick my skin.
Sparks cover my body.
I don’t know what I ever did to deserve this kind of treatment, but I need to find out and do it again and again. “Yes, nice and deep, beautiful. That’s so fucking perfect,” I rasp, clutching her head, sliding my other hand through her hair, too.
I guide her through the blow job, the way she asked me to do when she told me to tie her up. It’s a filthy sight. This goddess trussed up, mouth wide open, lavishing fantastic attention on my cock.