Chapter 12
12
FIONA
Holy shit. He was a filthy talker.
I could barely catch my breath. Barely keep up. My mind was being controlled by my–very wet–vagina and it was telling me to take him for one hell of a ride.
When I continued to blink and stare, he said, “Well?”
In my slut-induced haze, I could only nod. I hadn’t been with a guy since long before my neuroma was diagnosed. My brain was shutting down all crucial thoughts. My hearing, it wasn’t focused on anything. Only bits of noise and voices were processing.
A car horn. A toilet flushing–there was always a flushing toilet somewhere. Various voices somewhere within a one block range .
“She’s ten months.”
“Toss the pickles.”
“–tent that fits six and has–”
“–shipment–”
He looked left, then right then–with his hand still at the back of my neck–guided me around one of the long rows of books so we were hidden from anyone on the sidewalk and pressed me against it. With his hard body. I didn’t hear anything after that but his words, “I gotta make you come.” Because with deft hands, he went to the button on my jeans.
I nodded again when he got my zipper down, because yes, please. “Okay.”
When his hand slid beneath my panties and cupped me, I whimpered. My skin flushed hot.
He groaned. “Fucking perfect.”
Fingers slipped over my clit, and I rolled my hips. The way he was touching me, he might have been fucking perfect, too.
With those piercing blue eyes, he watched me closely, seemingly taking in every gasp, every back arch, whimper, clench as a sign for what I liked. When he slid not one, but two thick fingers into me, I gripped his forearm, not to pull him away, but to hold him there. I went up onto my toes. I was so full. And that was just his fingers. If he was as big as he boasted, I wasn’t sure if I could take him.
“That’s it. Ride my hand. Fuck, you’re dripping all over it. ”
Every dirty thing he said got me closer and closer to coming, which wasn’t that far off. He was just that good. I should hate him for it because he was arrogant enough, but I didn’t dare do anything that would get him to stop.
My eyes flared when I was right on the edge. Held my breath.
He knew. “Good girl.”
Two words. Those two words were my kink. Not BDSM or whatever else the yoga instructor wanted to do with him. I wanted to be his good girl so fucking bad.
Ha! Take that bendy lady. It was my pussy he was fingering.
“Yes!” I whimpered, coming hard. I couldn’t stop my hips from rocking, riding his hand exactly like he said. “So good. So good. So good.”
Only when I flopped my head back against a row of books while trying to catch my breath did he slide his fingers from me. When he put them in his mouth and licked them clean, I went feral.
Yeah, me.
“More. Now.”
He arched a brow. The turn of his lips indicated he was amused.
It was my turn to undo his jeans, flicking the button fly open with ease, then reaching in.
Good God, he was as big as he boasted.
He gave a cursory glance around, then removed my hands from his pants and tugged me down with him to the floor. He sat on the hardwood, his back against the bookshelf and shifted enough to get his dick out.
He was a sight. Gorgeous, casual. Completely dressed except for his long, thick, veiny, hard dick ready to go.
“Condom,” I said, running my tongue over my lower lip.
He pulled one from his wallet and slid it on as I tried to get my jeans off. I almost face planted into a short stack of books titled Call Me Daddy and got one leg free. Then I gave up because there was… whatever his name was, Mr. Suit, stroking himself and watching me with hooded eyes. And a hell of a lot of mirth.
I straddled his lap, my knees on either side of his thighs. My jeans and panties were a tangled clump on my left calf.
Whatever.
His gaze met mine. Held.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said as he set his hands on my hips, lifted me enough to hover over his latex-covered crown, then lowered me onto him. He bent his knees to cradle me on his lap.
“Fiona. Oh God.” He was so flipping big. But I was so wet he filled me easily. There was a hint of burn that went with the stretch. My eyes fell closed then I had to move, lifting up, then slamming back down. “Yes,” I hissed.
“Don’t you want to know the name of the guy who’s fucking you?” he growled, as if insulted.
I met his gaze as he gripped my hips and pushed up into me as I sank down.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Dax. ”
I smiled and clenched around him. “Nice to meet you, Dax.”
He grit his teeth. “You fuck all the men you meet at armed robberies?”
“Yes.”
His fingers tightened on my hips, and I knew I’d have little bruises. He didn’t like the answer. I smirked.
“Never been involved in an armed robbery before.” Investigated, yes. Not involved.
He liked that answer because he started fucking me again, easily lifting and lowering me as he wanted.
“You fuck all the women you don’t listen to during an armed robbery?” I countered, although my voice wasn’t stern, but ridiculously breathy and had a hint of a moan at the end.
“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” he said instead of answering my question. His hand came down on my ass in a hard spank, the crack of it loud in the store.
What the…?
My eyes flared. So did the sting on my left butt cheek. Then I moaned and pretty much melted.
“Fuck,” he growled. “That was for putting yourself in danger like that. You need a fucking keeper.”
I shook my head and took over from him, riding him in a way that had my clit rubbing against his base. I knew how good a Dax-induced orgasm was. I wanted another. “You don’t like a woman who takes charge.”
He grunted, then hoisted me off him.
Then he manhandled me onto my hands and knees. Got behind me. Spanked me again. “Fuck, this ass looks good with my handprints on it.” I had a feeling he was talking to himself more than me. “Okay, sweetheart. This is how it’s going to go. Let me mansplain this to you.” Then he drove into me. Deep. I cried out. “I’m the one who does the fucking.”
“I hate you,” I muttered.
“Want me to stop?”
I frowned and admitted the truth. “No. Stop and I’ll shoot you with your SIG.”
He laughed, slamming into me nice and hard, just the way I loved it and spanked me again.
“You just got wetter. Like a man in charge, do you?”
“No.”
“Maybe I should put my dick in that mouth of yours to stop those lies.”
The thought of him doing just that, taking me how he wanted, showing me who was the boss with his dick, got me hot. Hotter.
He leaned over me, setting a hand on the floor beside mine, his other going to my clit. Circling it, then pinching it between two fingers.
“Oh,” I moaned and let my head drop between my shoulders.
“Now be a good girl and come again all around my dick.”
I should hate him for handling my body like he’d done this before, like he’d known me forever. But I couldn’t. Not when he said good girl and made me come. Because as ordered, I came, clenching around his dick and gasping his name.
“Fuck, Fi, you’re pussy’s a dream.”
A smile played at my lips when he groaned and came right after. He might’ve been the bossy one, but my pussy was Mr. Suit’s wet dream.