Chapter 11 #2
His lips move south, his scruff an erotic scrape, his mouth hot as he sucks on an achingly stiff nipple.
I gasp, spearing the fingers of my spare hand into his nape.
His teeth graze the sensitive tip and it sparks like an electric shock.
I moan as it ripples across my flesh, his mouth transferring to the other side, hands moving relentlessly down, finding the waistband of my very sensible work trousers and making short work of the fastenings.
‘Off,’ he mutters around my nipple, hot hair puffing on the wet aureole as his hands peel both trousers and underwear down to my thighs.
I take over as his fingers return to more interesting tasks, wriggling out of the fabric and my shoes as they taunt the aching tightness of a nipple and slide between my legs. I buck and moan his name as he so deftly finds my clit. ‘Danny.’
His breathing is heavy as he groans in response. ‘Fuuuuck. You’re so wet,’ he mumbles into my neck. ‘Need you.’
Need. That word is like an accelerant to the passion blazing between us. That Danny wants me has never been in dispute. That he needs me? That’s a whole other ballgame. It implies lack of control. Something that cannot be explained or contained – it just is.
‘Condom,’ I pant as I double fist his cock, my thumbs smearing the liquid beading from the slit over the taut flushed dome of his head.
I need him too, despite all the reasons why I shouldn’t that percolate through my brain on the regular.
I need him more than oxygen. I need him more than any bodily sustenance.
I need him beyond reason.
So much so I am fully naked again while he is mostly still clothed and guiding his cock towards my centre, greedy, even without the requested condom.
Thankfully, though, the mention of protection – or maybe something else – has roused him from our thrall and he pulls back, the harsh sound of our combined laboured breathing the only noise in the entire apartment.
His gaze rakes over me. My hair half out of its confines from the thrust of his fingers, my mouth swollen from his kisses, my nipples wet and taut from his attention, my hands circling his cock that is jammed between us.
‘Fuck.’ He shakes his head, his voice full of gravel. ‘I think I must be a Neanderthal because the way I’ve marked you makes me want to beat my chest.’
I glance down to see the abraded areas of skin on my chest and around my nipples where his whiskers have scratched me up, and hell if I don’t want to roll my back and preen under his approval.
I suppose I should reject the entire notion of being marked by a man, but the streak of possession in his tone has me going full cavewoman.
‘So why are you stopping?’ I ask as my gaze drops to my hands.
He follows, and I perform a slow, deliberate up and down as he watches, his eyelids fluttering closed briefly as I complete the manoeuvre before they open again. ‘I want to show you something first.’
He kisses me hard and quick as his palms slide over my ass to grasp the underside as he lifts me up like I weigh nothing at all.
His hands are firm under the tops of my thighs, my legs automatically parting to grip either side of his hips, his cock perilously close to my entrance as it slides along my folds.
‘Hold on tight,’ he whispers into my ear.
I squeak a little as he takes off, my hands clutching around his neck as he strides through his apartment.
Laughing at his skill, he cuts me off with his mouth and I moan and cling even more as he walks blindly on, his lips plundering mine, navigating the landmarks of his space without bumping into a single one.
The thickness of his erection is an erotic tease with every footfall, and I squirm against him to increase the delicious friction until he finally draws to a halt.
My eyes flutter open as he pulls out of the kiss.
His slumberous gaze locks on mine, his mouth wet, and my internal muscles turn to warm jello as he looks at me with frank possession.
With a smile, he eases his hands away and slowly lowers me.
I shiver as his cock slips between my folds, teasing my hard, swollen clit, then drags along my belly before my feet hit the floor, which crinkles a little underfoot.
There’s something odd about that, but pleasure ripples through the muscles slung between my hips and then the mattress hits me behind the knees, so I don’t pay it any heed.
He flattens his palm against my chest. ‘Timber,’ he murmurs, blue eyes dancing.
I smile as he increases the pressure gently on my sternum. Playing along, I fall back against the mattress. Which also… crinkles. Like the duvet is made of wrinkled paper. Taken out of the moment, I glance either side of me. A bedside lamp throws some light across the cover, and I frown.
Is that… money?
I look at Danny, who is standing there grinning at me now, his arms crossed, which only emphasises his incredible biceps and the art that decorates them. Levering myself up onto my elbows, I twist my head from side to side again, taking in the entire mattress this time.
It is money. Ten-dollar bills to be precise.
The mattress is covered in a thick layer of money and as I watch, one slides off to the floor.
Absently scooping up a handful, I stare at it.
Fake, I’m assuming. I mean, they look real, but I see enough news to know that fake money can look genuine, and there’s no way this could be real because there must be thousands of them.
I blink, confused. What the hell is going on? Why on earth is there fake money strewn across Danny’s bed? I let the handful drop to the mattress as I look to him for answers.
‘Is this some kind of kink you wanted to show me? I mean, if role-playing that you’re some kind of millionaire that likes to fuck on a pile of fake money is what floats your boat then I can get on board with that.’
I’m sure there are weirder kinks out there. But then, what would I know? The most risqué sex thing I’ve ever done was letting a guy I barely knew debauch me in a broken-down elevator. Pretty vanilla really.
‘No.’ He shakes his head and laughs. ‘Not a kink and not fake. One hundred per cent genuine.’
I frown. ‘It’s real?’
‘Every single note.’
Sitting properly, I pluck up the nearest bill and hold it towards the light. Not that I have any clue what I’m looking for. I glance at Danny again. ‘There must be thousands here.’
He nods. ‘About twenty thousand ten-dollar bills. And they’re all mine.’
I do a quick calculation in my head. That’s… two hundred thousand dollars. What the hell? ‘Did you do some gambling while you were in Reno? Or…’ The note I’m holding falls from my fingers to the floor. ‘Rob a bank?’
‘None of the above. That lot is a stash of Bob’s casino wins over the last decade. And it turns out he has much, much, much more than that in the bank and in a truly mind-blowing investment portfolio.’
I’m waiting for Danny to tell me he’s joking, but I can see he’s not. ‘Is he like some kind of… secret millionaire?’
He shakes his head slowly. ‘More than that.’
More? Is Danny saying… ‘He’s a billionaire?’
‘Yep.’ He grins. ‘And I am his sole beneficiary.’
I stare at him, not quite believing the turn of events. ‘Oh my God.’
‘Yup.’
‘Oh my God,’ I repeat.
He laughs as he repeats, ‘Yup.’
I glance around me and scoop up armfuls of ten-dollar bills and let them fall. They’re cool against my naked flesh, some landing in my lap while others skim my body.
‘So…’ I drag my eyes off the river of cash to meet his. ‘You’re rich now?’
Danny lets out a long breath that fluffs the hair hanging over his forehead. ‘Apparently.’
‘What are you’ – I look around, completely flummoxed – ‘going to do with it all?’
My mind is crowding with a hundred different questions, but none of them can get past the glitch going on in my brain.
Danny is rich. Danny is rich. Danny is rich.
He’s not this blue-collar guy with tats and swagger, at home in jeans and a tool belt and sitting behind a drum kit. Not any more. Now he is seriously fucking rich. I don’t know what that means. It’s just too damn big to even wrap my head around.
‘I don’t know yet,’ he says. ‘But I do know what I want to do with it tonight.’
His eyes have gone hot again as his gaze lands on the ten-dollar notes that are decorating my thighs. I swallow at that look that reminds me I am completely naked and his dick is out and still hard and flushed and lethal. His eyes trek up my body slowly until they finally meet mine.
‘Ever fucked a billionaire?’ he asks, the corners of his mouth lifting.
I laugh. ‘Nope.’
‘Ever screwed on top of two hundred grand?’
My smiles gets bigger. The whole notion is so damn absurd. Also thoroughly, utterly debauched. ‘Nope.’
‘Well, then.’ Fishing in his back pocket, he pulls out a silver foil packet before stripping out of jeans and underwear and kicking them aside. ‘This is your lucky night.’
He’s right. It is my lucky night. And not just because I am lying on a literal bed of money but because this is the first time I’ve seen him completely naked, and he does not disappoint.
My mouth goes as dry as those ten-dollar notes as I trace the twine of inky vines that wrap around his legs from his ankle to the bulk of his quads.
And further north to narrow hips and the ladder of his abs and the span and breadth of his chest and shoulders decorated in a breastplate of ink. Unfettered by clothes, Danny’s body could have been Da Vinci’s inspiration for Vitruvian Man.
He advances on me then and I fall back onto my elbows and watch him, the gleam in his eyes purely carnal.
Pausing at my knees, he holds my gaze as he tears the foil packet open and rolls the condom down his shaft.
He shudders at his own touch and I feel an answering shudder as the walls of my vagina squeeze tight in anticipation.
‘Spread your legs,’ he says, his eyes still on mine.
I can smell my arousal as I slowly comply, easing onto my back as I do so, money crinkling and sticking beneath me.
He looms over me, placing one hand near my head while the other scoops up a bunch of notes, which he lets fall all over my body.
He does it again until my torso is strewn with ten-dollar bills.
Only then does he drag his gaze off mine to admire his handiwork. Bills pile on my belly, cover my mons and my nipples, slide off the slopes of my breasts and the cage of my ribs. I am conscious of the crinkle of cash as I flatten my palms into the duvet.
‘Fuck, that looks good on you,’ he mutters.
My breath catches at the reverence in his voice, but I need more than his eyes on me. More than his money on me. I need him on me. Covering me. In me.
‘You know what else looks good on me?’ I say, my voice husky. ‘You.’
I reach for him them and drag him down, moaning as his weight presses me into the mattress and his pelvis settles against mine. My legs, ten-dollar bills sticking to my inner thighs, wrap around his waist and I feel the thick nudge of him butting my slick entrance.
‘Now,’ I whisper in his ear. ‘Please.’ It’s been too long since he’s been inside me, and never like this.
Never horizontal. Never nose to nose. Never skin on skin. This is intimate. It’s not the furtiveness of a hospital closet. It’s not the riskiness of a broken-down elevator or the public thrill of a grungy alley.
It’s just us, alone – no risk of being caught or interrupted. It’s the stuff of lovers.
He kisses me as he drives his cock inside, swallowing my moan and his groan as they erupt from a place inside that seems to be shared. I open to him. My mouth to his kisses, my centre to the thrusts of his cock, and I’m exactly where I want to be.
It doesn’t take long. Not for either of us.
It’s too much this first time – this first proper time.
It’s been building for too long. We find our peak quickly and let go together, my hands scooping up piles of ten-dollar bills, letting them rain down around us as we gasp and groan and shudder through an intensity of pleasure and passion.