Chapter 18 #2
“That’s not gonna happen.” I sank back down to my knees, licking her slowly. Teasingly. Increasing intensity with every swipe of my tongue. I wanted to see if the gradual build without me stopping would get her there.
It started promising. Her body reacted. Rocking. Grinding. Shuddering. But then she would tense, and not in the way either of us wanted.
“We can stop,” she said.
“No,” I bit out against her pussy before resuming my feast.
“But I want to touch you.”
“No.”
“Tripp, I—ouch!” she cried when I bit her ass cheek.
“What was that?”
“Sir. I meant Sir.” She moaned the last word when I bit down in the same spot again, and my cock jerked. She moved against me even as she insisted, “It’s not going to happen. I’m broken.”
I was about to grab every toy in the cabinet until I found the right one when I noticed her messing with her hair.
Reaching up, I gripped her arms to pin them to her side. “We gotta get you outta your head, baby.”
I started to release her, but she shook her head. “Don’t let go. Please.”
I readjusted my hold on her upper arms and began to eat again, her moans driving me on.
“Harder, Sir.”
My hands were already tight around her. Any harder, and I ran the risk of leaving marks.
I did it anyway.
Or maybe because of that.
Using my unbreakable grip, I forced her body against my mouth and took.
And took.
And took.
Even when she shifted.
Even when she tried to pull free.
Even when she fought the hold.
More of her sweet taste flooded my mouth as she cried out sharply, her body strung tight. That tension broke as she came apart with a muffled scream.
Finally.
Her taste was better than my fantasies, and I kept the relentless pressure until she loosened, only then easing to gentle glides of my tongue. When I was sure I had every drop, I sat back.
Even with the bench supporting her, her knees gave out, and I pulled her down onto my lap. That time when I kissed her, she didn’t try to turn away from the taste. She opened, pliant and relaxed as she gave me what I couldn’t get enough of.
Pulling away, I rested my head on her forehead for a second as we caught our breath. I slid the blindfold off, and she blinked a few times, but they were slow. Dazed. I cupped her jaw and tipped her head so I could meet her unfocused eyes.
I gave her some time without words, slowly redressing her in between brushes of my lips and gentle touches. If she was going to stiffen and pull away—physically and emotionally—I was greedily taking what I could first.
But when she started to move, it wasn’t to distance herself. Tilting her head, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she wiggled on my lap, testing my hard-on and my control. “Why are you putting my clothes back on? You haven’t…”
“A different time,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Shockingly, she didn’t point out that it was a one-time deal. She just nodded.
“Up, baby,” I ordered gently, and she did as I said, swaying a little on her feet. I gripped her hips to keep her upright. “I’m driving you home.”
That got an argument. “I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“But my car is here.”
“We’ll get it tomorrow morning.”
“I have an early class.”
“I’m aware.”
She opened her mouth before looking up at me. She must’ve seen I wasn’t going to back down because she shut it again with a jerky little nod.
I slowly released my hold, making sure she was steady before I stepped away to turn on the lights and blow out the candles.
Greer was more out of it than I realized because it wasn’t until that moment that she said, “The lights were off?” She started to turn before freezing with her focus on the window. “Was that curtain there the whole time?”
My lips curled into a smirk. “You didn’t think I’d actually let anyone see, did you?”
Her wide eyes darted from the curtain to me and back again.
I took advantage of her distraction and wrapped an arm around her shoulder to guide her out into the hall. She remained silent as we walked through the club and out to the parking lot. She didn’t even try again to insist she could drive herself.
Pulling her out of the way so I could open the butterfly door, she all but flopped into the passenger seat with barely a reaction. I rounded the car and got in to start the engine.
“What kind of car is this?” she asked as I reversed.
“McLaren.”
She didn’t lift her head from the headrest as she gave it a lazy scan. “So roomy. Very practical. Bet it makes moving a breeze.” The engine roared as I put it into drive, and she had to raise her voice. “And so quiet.”
I chuckled since the luxury vehicle wasn’t made for anything more than being flashy as it got me from point A to point B. “I’ve got the G-Wagon for functionality and the Rolls-Royce for practicality. This one is just for fun.”
“I haven’t seen the Rolls-Royce.”
“My driver keeps it.”
“Your driver. Of course.” She rolled her head to look at me through exhausted eyes. “I sometimes forget that you’re a big star.”
I reared back.
Even before I was a star in my own right, I was the son of one. I’d always had money that people tried to grift from me. Power they wanted to wield. Perks and benefits they wanted to utilize.
I wasn’t sure anyone had ever forgotten that.
I wasn’t sure they’d ever viewed me as anything beyond that.
Yet my own employee did.
She scrunched her pretty face. “Did that come out wrong? I swear, I didn’t mean it as an insult—”
“It didn’t.” If anything, it was a helluva compliment.
She settled back and remained silent for a few minutes. I thought she was asleep until she muttered, “I didn’t think it was physically possible for a car like this to go so slow, Granny.”
To be fair, I didn’t think so, either. I wasn’t reckless with my driving—I didn’t need dashcam footage or a mugshot plastered all over—but I usually kept the pace and defensive maneuvering LA traffic demanded.
With Greer in the car, though, I was being cautious.
I chuckled, but I wasn’t sure she heard.
Despite the loud engine, she was asleep.