She didn’t bother lying. “Yeah.” Monica wanted to go there. Dangerous sex with Cal—she could become addicted to this. Or she could get caught, and her life would be ruined. It almost seemed worth it, acting out this exhibitionist fantasy.
Cal said nothing, letting her make the call.
But it wasn’t much of a risk, not really. She hardly ever saw lights on after dark, and she worked late every night. “We could turn off the main light.” That was reasonable. A compromise—semipublic sex, but dark enough to provide some protection.
“No, I want to watch your reflection when you come. And, Monica”—he snagged her panties and pulled them down to her knees—“you will come. Hard.” He looked into her eyes as he continued removing the scrap of material from between her legs.
Her cunt throbbed in response. “Is that a guarantee?” She bent over and held on to his shoulder while she stepped out of her panties. He tossed them aside, and now she stood before him, her pussy bare, clad in nothing but sheer thigh highs and a screaming-red bra. Monica had never been this aroused. Calum Hughes knelt at her feet, his gaze so scorching, she felt the heat of it on her skin.
“It is.” Cal palmed her ass, his grin lilting a little higher. “Now take off the bra.”
“No. Not until you’re naked too.” He wasn’t the only one who wanted a show.
Cal released her, and while still on his knees, unbuttoned his shirt. As he pulled it off his shoulders and down his tight, muscular arms, she got a glimpse of his tattoo. Celtic knots wove their way around each other, connecting to form a larger pattern.
Monica traced her finger along the ink work at the top of his shoulder, following the intricate loops as if they were a maze. She loved that tattoo. “Where did you get this?”
“Ireland.”
“Does it mean something?”
“Probably.” Cal rested his hands on her waist. “You’re wearing a bra and no knickers. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
When he kissed her stomach, Monica threaded her fingers through his hair once more. “You’re still wearing pants. They need to come off.”
Cal gracefully rose to his feet. He kicked off his shoes and discarded his socks before shucking out of the dark slacks. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Monica stared at his boxers. Navy blue. His hard cock strained the material. “I’m sure there is, if you put your mind to it.” She stepped toward him, close enough so her breasts brushed against his smooth chest. Tucking her finger inside the elastic waistband, she gazed up at him. “Time to lose these.”
“I think the bra should go first.” Cal played with the strap, adjusted it to one side, then, bowing his head, ran his tongue across her neck. Wrapping his hands around her upper torso, he deftly unsnapped her bra and slid it from her shoulders. Slowly.
As the cups fell away from her breasts, Monica watched him, watched every expression that drifted across his face. He appeared almost reverent as he peeled it down her arms, exposing her fully.
“You’re beautiful everywhere, Monica Campbell.”
He made her feel beautiful. The way he looked at her, the way he cupped her breasts and stared at them, like they were the most amazing things he’d ever seen. When he scraped his thumbs across her nipples, Monica ran her short nails along his forearms.
“You like it harder than that, don’t you, love?”
There was something so hot about being with a man who knew exactly what she needed and was willing to give it to her. Biting her lip, she didn’t speak, merely nodded. So Cal obliged. He squeezed the underside of her nipples. Gently at first, then gradually Cal kneaded them harder in his big hands. Monica loved this rough play. It heightened her arousal, left her craving more.
Pulling and twisting the engorged points, Cal eased off, then started all over again. He worked her up until she was so wet, so needy, she could hardly think.
Monica’s eyes drifted shut as she tilted her chin upward. That felt delicious, his hands on her, but still, she wanted more. “Your turn. Shorts off.”
“Not yet. I’m not done with you.” He released her nipples and bent toward her, taking one between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make Monica cry out. Then he lapped at it before latching his mouth over her breast and sucking.
Monica’s hands ran mindlessly over Cal’s upper back. Her pussy was so ready for him. Need. Her entire body hummed with it. “Cal.” He continued to suck, and she felt the pull of it all the way to her clit. “Calum.”
Finally, he raised his head. His cheeks were ruddy, his lips parted. Monica planted her hands on either side of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. Cal’s tongue brushed against hers. She sucked it, nibbled at it. Cal responded by biting her upper lip, groaning deep in his chest. She liked that she had this effect on him, glad she wasn’t the only one feeling this powerful lust that had taken over all reason.
Finally, Cal pulled away. Panting, he jerked his boxer shorts off, releasing his thick, long dick. Monica stared at it. She wanted to touch, lick, stroke every single inch of him. She wanted her hands on that warm, smooth skin. Wanted to wrap herself around him and breathe him in.
Grasping his cock with one hand, Monica rubbed the soft skin along his hard shaft, following a thick vein up to the tip. A drop of precum beaded at the surface. Brushing it with her finger, Monica spread it over the head. She removed her hand, and glancing up at him, worked that same fingertip in her mouth, twirling it along her tongue, her eyes wide.
“Monica.” She loved the way he bit out her name, his impatient, guttural voice striking a chord deep inside her.
Placing her hand on the base of his cock, she knelt before him. Lowering her head, she swirled her tongue across the broad tip.
Cal scrunched his eyes closed. A tic in his jaw betrayed a shaky grasp on his self-control. He was close, and she’d barely touched him. Still, she couldn’t help but tease him a little more.
“Do you like that?” Rhetorical question. She smiled as she lapped upward, along the length of him. Then, taking him in her mouth, she sucked gently. Cal’s cock twitched against her lips.
“Darling, I have plans,” he said. “Plans that involve taking you from behind, watching you in the window as your tits sway back and forth.”
The tip of Monica’s tongue darted over his slit, granting her another taste of salty liquid. She still hadn’t relinquished her grip at the base. She liked feeling this way, playful and powerful, while Cal stood almost helpless, a slave to her mouth, her hands. She could take him now, like this. But she wanted him inside of her, wanted to feel this magnificent cock ramming in and out of her, to feel him from behind. And as he watched her in the window’s reflection, she’d be watching him. She wanted to be naughty with him, possibly revealing herself as he took her in full view of anyone who could be walking by.
She let go of him and rose to her feet. “You should make plans more often.”
“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all bloody day.” He leaned down and nipped her chin. “I love that little cleft.” Then he snatched her around the waist and lifted her up, until her face was level with his. “Kiss me.”
Wrapping her arms and legs around him, Monica complied. With Cal’s cock wedged between them, she planted her lips on his, stroking her tongue into his mouth. She’d had boyfriends in the past who didn’t like to kiss after she’d gone down on them. Cal wasn’t like that. He was earthy, sensual.
She broke away. “Condom?”
“Right.” He stared hard at her lips.
Monica swept her hands across his shoulder blades. His skin—tanned and smooth over powerful, striated muscles—warmed her palms. Monica angled her head and licked that tattoo, curling her tongue along his taut bicep. She smiled up at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you working on the Mustang.”
“You should have done. It’s quite an icebreaker. The condom’s in my trousers. That means I’m going to have to put you down.”