It does.
Sharp and quick, Carter’s palm connects with my ass cheek, and I buck my hips against him.
“Fuck,” I moan, gripping his shirt tighter.
He laughs. Low and rich, each sound coasts over my skin until all I can hear is that deep rumble of his amusement. “Sounds like a good fuck.” He does it again, and this time, I arch my back. “Damn. You’re so fuckin’ responsive, aren’t you?”
“You’ve barely touched me,” I point out. I reach up and grasp the top button of his shirt, my eyes on his the whole time. “See how responsive I am when you actually try.”
Once again, he laughs. His grip on my tender ass gets rough, and he seems to relish the way I grasp his shirt as if I want to rip it off. ‘Cause, fuck. I do. I want to rip off this goddamn useless piece of white fucking fabric until his obviously toned torso is clear to me and ready for me to explore with whichever part of my body I deem fit.
Ah, fuck it.
I undo the top button, then another, and another, and another. My fingers travel down nimbly until every one of the little white buttons are undone and only the very bottom of his shirt is tucked into his waistband. I run my teeth across my bottom lip, deliberately pulling tightly on the soft flesh. His grip does nothing but tighten, so I move, hooking one leg over his lap until I’m straddling him.
I can feel his rock-hard cock pushing against my already wet pussy, and fuck me. That’s one hell of a cock.
I rock my hips against him, and when a small groan leaves him, I smile. I’ll take it. I take whatever inch of pleasure I can, given that he just sucked it from me. No arguments here, but damn.
Maybe Carter Hughes needs a taste of his own medicine.
My lips quirk to one side at the prospect.
I’ve barely known him an hour, but I want to see what he can do with his cock when it’s compromised by a chick’s mouth.
I lean back, drop my hands to his belt, and pause when his hover against me.
“Server,” he murmurs, curling his arm around me and pulling me into him. I turn my face a fraction toward the curtains. The server is standing there, her eyes trained on the area above his head.
“Same again,” he replies, holding me where I am until the woman has left again. The second the curtains close, he twines my hair around his fingers and tugs me face toward his so tightly that my breath catches. “You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you? Baby, my cock is hard for you. Feel it.” He takes my hand and pushes it onto his erection. “If you’re gonna suck it, get your mouth the fuck down there and suck it before that bitch comes back with our drinks.”
Holy. Did he really just refer to a member of his staff as a bitch?
He did.
He did.
Oh my God.
I shouldn’t do this. I should run like fuck. But, damn. I wanna know what that sweet, hard cock tastes like, even if it’s only just one taste. I want to know what it’s like to have his pleasure pulsing against my tongue…. What it’s like to have this powerful man entirely at my mercy.
So I do it.
I push the table away from us the smallest amount and grab his undone pants. My fingers curl around each side and I tug them down until he lifts his ass and his sharp, black pants slide down his muscular thighs easily.
“Bee…” he warns, his hands both sliding up my back to the back of my head.
“Carter,” I murmur, grabbing the waistband of his boxer briefs, taking the barest moment to appreciate the way his hardened cock is pushing against the thin fabric of his underwear. It’s like a fucking oil painting, worthy of being hung in any art museum.
He tenses as I tug down his boxers and his cock springs free, long, hard, and thick, with a vein pulsing along its side.
I grin.
Time to play.
I close my mouth around the head of his cock, touching the tip of my tongue to it. He groans and twines his hand in my hair, tugging lightly. His restraint is obvious. Wrapping my fingers around the bottom of his cock, I give him a gentle squeeze as I take him in my mouth fully.
His grip on my hair tightens as I work him with both my mouth and my hand. He grows even harder in my mouth, and as I run my tongue over that one vein, I can feel it pulsing.
God, he really does have a wonderful cock.
My pussy is throbbing at the thought of having it inside me. It’s almost tempting to stop this and climb on top of him.
“Your drinks, sir.”
Carter holds my head still, his cock buried in my mouth. “On the table,” he demands.
I massage the very tip of it with my tongue, and his hips jerk into me.
“Today,” he grinds out as I reach down to cup his balls. I lightly drag my nails over them. “Don’t disturb us again.”
Two beats pass with the swish of a curtain before he grasps my hair so tightly that my scalp stings. He yanks my head up and meets my eyes. His gaze is dark and stormy, and it sends thrills of desire through me.
“You.” It’s a growl—deep, rich, primitive.
It’s all he says as he grabs me and throws me back onto the chair, thankfully releasing my hair. Without another word, he undoes his tie and whips it off before leaning over me, the satin strip crunched into a ball in his fist.
Only now does he speak. “Your hands. Above your head.” When I don’t move, he leans down. “Now, Bee.”
I raise an eyebrow and stare at him in defiance. You want ‘em there, you put ‘em there.
“My way it is then,” he murmurs, taking my wrists in each hand and slamming them against the seat over my head. He holds them in place with one hand while he unravels his tie.
I inhale sharply as he wraps it around my wrists and secures it, the silky knot tight and unmovable. I know because I try to free my hands. Carter stops my effort with a simple yet hard squeeze.
“Keep them there,” he breathes, running his eyes over my face. “Yes?”
“Yes.” I part my lips in an effort to steady my breathing.
My body is on fire. My legs are trembling with the anticipation of what he’s planning to do to me, and although this feels so right, I have to admit that I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing here. This is a new one, even for me.
Clearly the universe has decided that my one night stands need spicing up. Methinks the universe has been reading too many erotic novels.
Carter holds my gaze for a moment longer. He sits up, moving his hands to his shirt buttons. My chest heaves as I watch him undo each button and pull the fabric apart, revealing a toned torso from his pecs right down to the ‘v’ that leads to his erect cock. I run my eyes over the fine male form before me, and my fingers twitch with the urge to touch him. To trail my fingertips over every pack of muscle and inside each shadowed furrow.
He keeps his shirt on, just open, his eyes back on me, as he slides back a couple of inches. “Feet on the chair. Legs open. Let me see that pussy.”
Blunt. To the point. I like it.
I do as he says, my clit aching at his words. Gladly, Mr. Hughes. I open my legs a little wider than necessary, and he reaches forward and grabs my ankle. He lifts it and rests it on the back of the seat, and I shift so it’s more comfortable, making sure to keep my hands above my head like I promised.
Like he ordered, rather.
His green eyes drop from my face to my exposed pussy, and he bends forward. One of his fingers trails up the inside of my thigh, his touch feather-light, and I shiver.
Then he drops right down, splays his hands on the insides of my upper thighs, holds my legs firmly open, and closes his mouth over my pussy. He puts extra pressure on my clit, and I arch my back as a bolt of pleasure shoots through me. Good fucking God. His tongue is rough as it rubs over my most sensitive spot, and I cry out as the hint of an orgasm quivers through me.
Carter gets up and leans over me, and his cock teases the opening of my pussy before it settles over my clit. It only makes me squirm more. “Hush,” he admonishes me. “No one here will know that you’re coming except me. Your pleasure is mine and only mine. Understood?”