Chapter 6
EVIE
“Tell me, Eve.” His demanding lips trail my neck, licking and sucking, teeth tantalizing. Pleasure pulses through me as I arch against him, luxuriating in the thickness apparent through my dress.
“I dressed to spite him.”
“Are you fucking me to spite him too?”
I take his face in my hands to make certain there can be no mistake. “I’ve never wanted someone so much that I physically ache. Happy now?”
Oliver’s blue eyes burn like twin flames, his arm slipping around my waist to deposit my butt onto the dining table. His palms press either side of my hips, and his deeply masculine purr curls around my ear. “Deliriously.”
“So the underwear?” My voice turns smoky at the rasping brush of his dark bristles, twisting the question from casual.
“It stays. For now.”
“Dammit.” My smile is almost audible. “Isn’t it better to be under- than overdressed in this situation?”
His response is a low rumbling laugh. God, he smells so good, like dark spice and whisky and so unforgivingly male. My fingers shake as I reach for his tie and begin to undo the knot. He doesn’t object and, if what I felt against me moments ago is any indication, he’s as ready for this as I am.
“Though I must admit, I can’t wait to see what a thousand dollars can buy.”
“Not a lot as it happens.” Can he hear the tremble in my voice? Feel it in my fingers as I struggle to coordinate them. “Fabric-wise, anyway.”
Schlick. The sound of his tie sliding free from his collar drowns out my tiny, desperate breaths.
“Don’t stop there.” His voice is velvet and smoke as he catches my hands, pressing them to his chest. “Do the buttons next.”
My insides turn molten at his direction, and I begin with the top of that line of tiny hindrances. His breath brushes my lips, and cool air slides around my ankles as he begins to gather my dress up my legs. The lower I move with the buttons, the more my legs are exposed, until his pristine white shirt hangs open and the hem of my dress is laid across my waist.
“Nice.” I press my fingers to his chest. Taut pectorals. A smattering of dark hair. I gasp, my hand falling away as he grasps the back of my knee, spreading me wide.
“Fuck.” His utterance is like a prayer of thanks as he stares at the triangle of gauzy lace. All that’s left between me and immodesty.
I want to run my hands over his body, follow that downy trail from his navel like it’s a ribbon wrapped around a gift. But Oliver seems content to torment us both as his thumb sweeps over the skin bared above my stocking top.
“Worth every penny.” His eyes lift to meet mine.
“I’m pleased you think so.” My voice sounds shaky. I feel touch starved. I ache for contact.
“Lovely Eve, the things I am going to do to you.” The sensation is almost electric as his thumb slips under the garter. “The things you’re going to scream.”
“Oh, good. I was worried you were polling for suggestions.”
“Do I look like I lack imagination?”
I gasp as the garter snaps, his free hand snaking into my hair. It should feel painful, not like a dark kind of pleasure.
“Because I don’t.” He angles my head to his liking, his tongue swiping my bottom lip.
“Good ... good to know,” I almost moan.
“Better to experience.”
Holy heck, his mouth is clever, his lips soft yet commanding as he holds me in place. As he sucks and bites, studying my reactions, watching my breath. I whimper as his mouth slides down my neck, my insides pulsing like I’m about to come on the spot.
“Oh, God.”
“You like that,” he asserts, shaping the words to my skin.
“If you have to ask ...” Then you didn’t hear my ovaries explode.
I tighten my thighs on his hips, pulling him closer, welcoming his tug at my scalp. My hands rove, pulling at his shirt, my nails digging into his skin.
“Will you wriggle this much when I suck on your clit? Should I pin you down while I lick it?”
His words burst inside me, and I bite against a reply of yes .
“While I make it shiny and pink.”
“You can try,” I counter, not sure where the words come from.
“A challenge?” His mouth returns to mine, and struck by a sudden impulse, I suck on his tongue. The husky sound he makes sends a thrill through my bones. I roll my hips, rewarded by a grind of his, the thick press of him sending a wave of pleasure through my insides.
“Harder,” I rasp, trying to pull him closer.
“What makes you think I take orders?” The dark note in his reply feels like another wave of pleasure. Another of my body’s demands.
“I can’t tell you what I like?” I goad as I undulate softly against him.
His gaze narrows before his hand drifts to my breast, cupping the weight. His thumb circles my nipple once, twice. It stiffens under the lace, though I refuse to make any sound. Until his fingers firm and he tugs. I gasp. The reveal of my enjoyment.
“You were saying?” The look in his eyes could burn down whole buildings.
“Beginner’s luck.”
“That must be why I can feel you pulsing for me.”
My denials are short lived as his hand slips between my legs. My body jolts, and I moan as his thumb massages me over the silk of my panties. “No one likes a show-off.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” There’s a concentration to his gaze, a dark intent as he toys with me. As his thumbnail scrapes against the fabric and he swallows my next sound. Feasts on it. “I’d say you like me well enough.” His hot words travel up my jaw, and I suck in a sharp breath as his teeth find my earlobe. The rest is lost as his hand slips into my panties. I arch with a cry, my flesh giving so easily to the press of his fingers.
“Seems we’re both a little perverse.” His tone is all praise as his fingers glide through my arousal. “I’ve barely touched you, yet you’re so wet.”
My response is a soft whimper as he paints my pleasure to the rise of my clit.
“What was that?” he purrs, circling a light touch. “I didn’t quite hear you.”
“Don’t tease.” I fall back on my palms as he fills me with his fingers, the violence of the motion bringing with it such relief that I cry out.
“You’re such a good girl for me,” he purrs, ignoring me as my body contradicts my complaint. I arch against him, desperate to satisfy the need that wants to twist me inside out. “Look at you, taking my fingers.”
Holy Lord. His praise hits some secret pleasure button I didn’t know I possessed.
“Sweet, sweet Eve.” Slow and rhythmic, his fingers coax and dance. But his gaze is nothing short of predatory. “You make such pretty noises for me.”
“I’d be ... be more into this if you stopped talking.” The words rush from me in a broken breath.
His laughter feels like a brush of velvet against my skin, my lie called out by the way I arch against him. “You think I should use my mouth for something else?”
My body reacts to his words before my mind can process them, my thighs beginning to twitch like they don’t belong to me.
“Yes.” He spears me deeply, and my fingers curl around the edge of the table as though to hang on. To the sensation, the moment, or my wits, I can’t be sure, as he swallows the sounds of my relief. In my line of vision, his bicep contracts, and my breath leaves my mouth in three powerfully connected bursts.
“So slick.”
I mewl, distressed as I find myself empty and pulsing, with his glistening fingers in the air between us.
“I suppose you’re going to say this isn’t for me either.” He rubs the evidence of my pleasure between them.
I have no answer, everything south of my navel contracting as he presses his fingers to his lips. He sucks them deep.
“Certainly tastes like mine.” Pleasure spirals through me as he gives his thumb one final catlike lick. “In fact, you taste like I might lose my mind.”
“You’re still talking.”
“Oh, that mouth.” He gives a disparaging shake of his head. “It needs occupying. The question is, should I kiss it or fuck it?”
There’s something about those coarse words in that accent. His diction so sharp, it seems to slice to my core. Layers, my God, the layers.
He dips, and I suddenly find myself over his shoulder. Instead of protesting, I give in to a delighted giggle because no one in the history of me has ever gone caveman on me. Are there really men like this outside of movies, or is it just him? But then my heart jumps as I notice him swipe up his necktie.
“What’s that for?” Did that sound like panic or excitement?
“Can’t have you running away.”
Not twice in one day. The thought is an unwelcome reminder, the malicious sprite on my shoulder sounding suspiciously like my mother. I guess Oliver must sense some change in me because, in the bedroom, he sets me gently to my feet.
“What is it?” His tone is gentle, the setting sun rendering him a mixture of shadows and deep bronze.
Not trusting myself to speak, I give a small shake of my head.
“You’ve had a big day.” His knuckles tenderly glide down my neck. “We don’t have to do this. We could ...” His eyes drift to the contemporary four-poster bed behind me, with a dozen pillows, its linens snowy white.
“Cuddle?” I pinch in a delighted smile. “Go on, say it. Make it sound convincing.”
“And you think I shouldn’t talk.” He frowns. “We could order room service and watch a film?”
I laugh—he looks so out of his element. Try as I might, I cannot see this man watching a rom-com, chowing down on french fries. With a tiny throb of longing, I realize I would not kick him out of bed for making crumbs.
“Are you trying to be my friend?”
“I did warn you I’m terrible at it.”
“I think you’re doing pretty well so far.”
“That’s because you can’t see into my head.” He gives the kind of sigh that makes his chest heave. “It’s a ruse. Subterfuge. You see, I still have every intention of getting you out of your underwear.”
“I have no idea why I like you.” His ego? That confidence? Because he’s super easy on the eyes? Especially almost shirtless. Maybe he would make a terrible friend, but I don’t really believe it. He put his whole day aside to be with me. He hasn’t judged, pried, or looked at me with pity. He saw beyond the sad story dressed in lace and made me feel like myself.
“Perverse.” Reaching out, he hooks a finger around my ear as though sliding away a curl. “You really shouldn’t.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I whisper, leaning back against the bedpost.
“As if I’d dare presume.” His eyes dip as I slip my finger into the waistband of his pants. He presses his hand over mine, sliding it lower to the thick outline of his cock.
“Liar.”
His dark glance slices up, and heat slicks between my hips. His eyes turn midnight as I fasten my fingers over his thick outline, and he hums a masculine sound as he leans in. Our mouths meet, his tongue dark and clever as it licks into me. Kissing, kissing, but then I’m hauling in a breath as he breaks the kiss. His breathing doesn’t seem much easier than mine, those violet eyes almost black now.
“Turn around.” His words are rough, almost a command. I dip my head, not wanting to share what they do to me, and fight a shiver as he moves my hair over my shoulder. He sets his fingers to the buttons running down the back of my dress, my body instinctively undulating into his touch.
“Stop squirming.” The point of his tongue flicks lightly at my bared nape.
“When you stop teasing.” Need rushes through my veins in a sweet, urgent agony at the press of his teeth. Several torturous moments later, my dress parts from my skin, my breath catching as he slides it from my ribs.
I stare at the lace as it pools on the floor when he turns me to face him again.
“What’s the verdict?” Maybe vanity prompts me to ask, because the way his eyes devour me will be forever burned into my brain.
“Exquisite.” His gaze meets mine, full of heat and promise.
“Worth the money?” I’d thought my choice achingly pretty. A delicate demi-cup bra shaped like oyster shells, a garter belt to hug my hips, and tiny, triangular panties. And of course, silk stockings.
“It’s not the lingerie.” His finger trails my collarbone, then down between my breasts. Slipping into the gauzy cup, he bares my nipple. “No need to gild the lily,” he whispers as he lowers his head. My insides turn fiery, his words blowing across my skin. “Or paint the perfect pearl.”
I whimper as his tongue licks the pebble of my nipple. My body convulses, my next breath ragged as he sucks it hotly into his mouth. Anticipation washes across my skin, the attention he lavishes resonating sharply between my legs.
“You’re so lovely. So delicate.” His fingers make manacles of my wrists, pulling my hands above my head. “Bones so easily broken.” He folds my fingers around the bedpost behind me. “But your spirit? Not so.”
His words and the reassuring squeeze bring tears prickling to my eyes. But as he settles his hand between my legs, my thoughts scatter. With one swift tug, he rips my gossamer panties from my body.
He drops to his knees, and oh, my . I close my eyes to the sight of his dark head as he presses his mouth to me. I cry out, my spine arching at the first swipe of his tongue.
“You’re so sweet.” His compliment washes through me like a shower of stars. His tongue finds my clit. Circling, petting, loving. “So wet and pretty and all for me.” Oliver’s hand slides behind my knee, lifting it to his shoulder as his fingers spear me, as he whispers the kind of compliments I never thought to hear. “That’s it, darling.” He grunts, working me rougher, faster. Making me wetter. “You’re so close.”
Pleasure begins to spiral, the air around me somehow complaisant to it. I’ve never felt this kind of intensity, never needed to come so hard, as Oliver makes good on his earlier promise, burying his head to make a meal out of me.
“Oh, God.” There. “Yes!” I cry out.
“Don’t come.”
My answer is a tortured rasping laugh. Like that’s even possible. Until ... “What? No!” I protest as his tongue begins to slow.
“Who does this night belong to, Eve?” His voice and his fingers are both rough and tender at the same time. “Whose mouth is going to make you come?”
I almost levitate, chasing the fleeting swipe of his tongue. “Stop, that’s—”
“Mmmm.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head at the vibration against my clit. I was going to say cruel , but ...
“I could drown in you.”
“Don’t,” I whimper, pressing my hand to his dark head. Too late. He pulls away. His eyes crawl up my body, his mouth lewdly wet and his blue eyes burning.
“Do I have to use my tie?”
“No.” My voice is hoarse, and my body throbs as I withdraw my hand. “No. At least, not the first time ...”
He smiles like the devil, his tongue lewdly licking into me. “Who, darling. Who is going to eat you out until you scream?”
“You. You’re going to make me come. Can I, please? Please and thank you.”
His laughter is possibly the dirtiest thing I’ve ever heard. Then he presses his mouth to me and begins to eat me like a starving man at a feast. I can’t process a thing as my orgasm begins to crawl through my insides, gathering and building until I’m fit to burst. And I do—I implode, explode, come so hard I definitely lose brain cells. When I come back to myself, I’m sure the only thing keeping me upright is Oliver’s fingers and slow, lapping tongue.
“No. No more!” I twist, every swipe feeling electric.
He stands, wiping my pleasure from his chin with the back of his hand. “I do so appreciate good manners.” His gaze sweeps over me, bold and possessive. I blink, not quite following. Then his arms come around my waist, and he lifts me up, then lays me across the bed as he whispers “ Please, please, please ” in my ear.
“I did not ...” My words trail away as he begins to strip off the remains of his shirt, his cuff links making a dull sound as they hit the floor. His skin looks like he’s been dipped in honey, his nipples copper colored and almost flat. My eyes slip down the ladder of his abdominals as his pants come off next.
Thick thighs dusted with dark hair, black boxer briefs and—
His knee hits the mattress between my legs, his cock jutting between us, long, thick, and ruddy. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy smokes I’ll be lucky if I ever walk again.
My gaze slides upward to find his eyes glittering in the lowering light. He looks otherworldly, like some dark beautiful creature making plans to feed on me.
Oh, wait. He already did that.
“What are you smiling about?”
“I’m not smiling,” I whisper ... smiling. “I don’t have the energy.”
“You’ll rouse.” He drops onto his palms, his lips a hot trail up my throat, the length and heft of him apparent against my skin.
“Condom?” whispers the sensible side of me.
He hums, and something sharp drags against my shoulder. But his mouth is on mine, and I’m tasting myself from his tongue, and we’re licking the salt from each other’s skin, touching and squeezing and—so good.
“Please, I want—”
He pushes onto his knees. A tiny tear. A grunt. My breathy “Yes” as I stare.
“Darling, the way you watch. Like you’re desperate to suck me off.”
Everything inside me twists, the images he paints blooming inside me like heat. But as the solid masculine weight of him follows, my thoughts dissolve.
“Oh ...” I shiver at the brush of his sheathed cock as, with a broken groan, he moves lower.
“Fuck, yes.” His silky crown nudges against me, his heated words brush past my ear. It sounds like he’s just hanging onto his sanity.
“Please!” I pant, knowing I am.
I hold my breath as he pushes inside me, his soft grunt exhaled against the skin of my neck. “Eve, this is ...”
I nod—my God, I know. The sensations. The feels.
His hand grips my hip as he surges into my body as though it belongs to him. The stretch is exquisite, his tortured groan everything. He moves over me, once, twice, pinning me to the bed as my moans layer over his, my whimpers over his whispered compliments.
He rises over me, hooking his hand under my knee. The slick sight of his cock as it works me makes me unspool. My hands, grasping and greedy, drag him down, and I press my teeth to the skin of his neck as it hits.
There. Oh, God. There. My soul twists from my body, euphoric.
He stills as I grind against him, crying out, everything around me ceasing to make sense. There is only Oliver over me, inside me, as I’m consumed by pleasure.