CHAPTER FOUR
Sutton
Nine Hours Ago
My body burns—every muscle, every nerve ending, every inch of my skin—as our mouths brand and tongues taste and teeth nip.
If I thought our kisses in the club’s alley and then in the backseat of our taxi to his impressive suite at The Mark were incredible, I was severely underestimating the talent of this man.
And I’m definitely not complaining.
But now as his hands slide down to cup my ass while we stumble our way into his suite, all I can think about is how I want more. Him naked. Him filling me. Him fucking me.
Desire this intense is completely new to me, and I plan to revel in every damn second of it.
Alcohol and the lack of inhibition it brings me is more than welcome as we discard our clothes in a flurry of movements. My dress. His shirt. My bra. His pants. Each one kicked or thrown aside without thought as our lips continue to find one another’s and our hands begin to explore.
My hands immediately go to his strong shoulders, run down abs I can’t see in the dim light but can feel ridge after ridge of.
Impatient, I slip my hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs where his more than impressive bulge is all but testing the integrity of its fabric.
He’s warm and hard and thick and the feel of him only makes the ache to have him even sweeter.
He dips down and out of reach so that his mouth can languish on my breast. My hands, desperate to have a purpose, thread through his hair.
His tongue circles my nipple before his lips close over it and he sucks.
The soft moan that is low in my throat becomes strangled as his hand finds its way beneath the waistband of my panties.
His fingers part me, sliding between the slick flesh he finds there, and his groan melds with my quick intake of air.
“All this for me?” he murmurs against my skin as he laces open-mouthed kisses back up to the curve of my neck.
I don’t speak, can’t, because my focus is on the feel of his hair between my fingers, the warmth of his breath on my neck, and the utter bliss as he lifts my foot onto a nearby chair before tucking a finger into me.
My breath catches and my knees become pliant as he slides that finger back out and up to my clit.
He gently rubs over the bundle of nerves there so that I’m practically pushing my pussy into his hand to do more, to make me feel more.
With each addition of friction, sensations ignite fireworks within my core.
His mouth finds mine again. “You didn’t answer me, Collins,” he murmurs between kisses. “I asked you if this is all for me.”
My brain is trying to fire but it’s so focused on his fingers. How they slide back between my seam. How they push into me and hit exactly where they need to hit inside me.
I’m shocked into the now when Johnnie fists his hand in my hair and pulls my head back. My mouth falls open and my neck is exposed as I’m forced to look into those amber eyes that are inches from mine.
“Your ex may have allowed you to be silent, but that’s because he was a selfish prick.
I want to hear you say what you want. I want to know I’m making you feel how you want to feel.
I want the neighbors on either side of these walls to call the front desk because you’re screaming so loud one minute and begging me for more the next.
Is that understood?” The dark promise of his words feels like a rumble through my body.
A finger flipping a light switch on. A tremor of adrenaline-laced desire.
His hold on my hair prevents me from looking away like I normally would.
There is no room to be shy. No space to back away and collect myself.
There is only the ragged rasp of my breath and the slick sound of my arousal as his fingers continue to work their way so casually in and out of me. It’s as if he owns me.
I have never been more turned on in my life.
“The woman in Coquette had no problem firing a quick comeback and telling me what she thought of me. Was that confidence all a show?” He twists his fingers tighter in my hair, adding the tiniest bit of pain.
His eyebrow raises, a silent challenge to see if I’m as mouthy here as I was in the bar.
“Now tell me, Collins, what is it that you want?”
My breath shudders as my body edges closer to that high, his words only spurring my arousal on.
I’ve never been spoken to like this. I’ve never been asked, demanded, coaxed—whatever you want to call it—to express what I want in bed. It had always been Clint’s needs that came first. It had always been me feeling so dissatisfied. Frustrated. Wanting.
And it’s both heady and empowering to be spoken to this way. To be asked to voice what I want.
I’ll never see this man again. Hell, we don’t even know each other’s names . . . so isn’t this my chance to just go for it? To wear the shoes of whoever this woman I’m being tonight and enjoy the ride?
Pun intended.
So I take a slow, fortifying breath, my eyes meeting his stare for stare, and say something I’ve never uttered in my entire life. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me feel. I want you to make me come.”
His fingers still inside me as his approving chuckle rumbles through the room. “There she is,” he croons as a smile curves his lips. “I love a woman who knows what she wants.” He presses a teasing kiss to my lips and then whispers, “But you have to earn my cock first, Collins.”
His words surprise me and even though he releases my hair and pulls his fingers out from inside me, I stand there slack-jawed and unsatisfied. “I have to what?”
He makes this the perfect time to slide down his boxer briefs so that his cock springs free. And of course, someone as gorgeous as him would have to have a perfect dick. Thick and hard and Jesus . . . he was right. Some things are worth begging for.
And that is one of them.
“You heard me,” he says, pulling my attention back to him as he takes a step toward me. “You have to earn it.”
“I—”
“Take off your panties, Collins.” His eyes lower as I slide my soaked panties down my hips and step out of them when they hit my ankles.
Nerves flutter about as he takes a long, slow appraisal of my body.
That cocky tilt to his lips is back when his eyes meet mine again.
“Stand in front of the window, Collins.”
“But—”
“Do as I say,” he commands softly as if to let me know that refusing isn’t an option. “It’s time to work for that fuck you want.” He quirks a brow. “Now over to the window.”
I obey.
God, I never thought I’d say those words in my entire life, but I fucking obey.
And I do so with more eagerness than I’ve showed for something in a long time.
There is no room for modesty as I do what he asks. No room when he looks at me with an intensity that is strong enough to light me on fire, let alone the room.
“Good girl,” he purrs and runs a hand down my jaw before twirling his finger in the air.
“Now turn around and put your hands on the glass. Yes, just like that.” A soft hand over the curve of my ass.
“You like that, don’t you, Collins? To be seen.
To know anyone can look up here at any second and see you standing here.
To know that someone right now might be getting off while watching you stand there naked.
” He runs a finger softly between my thighs.
His touch so featherlight that it takes everything I have not to push my ass back to feel more.
“Tell me, Collins. Tell me you like it.”
“I like it.” Breathless. Desperate.
“Better,” he praises, his mouth at my ear. “Now bend over, press your tits against the glass, and let me see that gorgeous pussy of yours.”
I do as he asks, bending over and sticking my ass out.
The room is silent as I stand there. I can only assume he is behind me, staring, and the inability to see him and what he’s doing, heightens the anticipation that has been building, sensation by sensation.
His lips touch the small of my back, and I jolt at the unexpected sensation. “You have such a beautiful pussy, Collins. It’s”—he emits a guttural groan when his fingertip rubs ever so gently over my wet folds— “such a turn-on.”
I try to push back onto his hand, clenching my muscles when I do. His chuckle is seductive as it rumbles through the room. “Are you asking for something? Is your pussy tightening for me?”
God.
Yes.
Please.
“Mm-hmm,” is all I can manage.
“Answer me or I stop.” His touch leaves me and my body tenses in response.
“Yes. That’s for you.”
Take it. Please fucking take it, because I’m aching and soaked and all I can think about is your next touch.
But the silence returns. The expectation builds.
His hand slides over one side of my ass, between my thighs just enough to tease my opening before running over the other cheek.
I feel the heat of his body behind me. Can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with my arousal.
“I should take you like this right here, against the glass for everyone to see.” His fingers press a little closer this trip around.
“But I want to watch you. Your tits. Your lips. Your sweet pussy. You. Is that what you want, Collins?”
“Yes,” I moan, his fingers back where I want them again.
A hiss of pleasure falls from my lips when the wet, warmth of his mouth closes over me.
The ache . . . oh my God, the ache the simplest touch of his tongue creates is enough to have me pushing myself back against him.
Wanting him to take more. Needing him to take more.
He closes his mouth over my most intimate skin, taking it in his mouth and sucking. It’s a sensation I’ve never experienced before and sure as hell want to experience again. Pressure builds within me. The burn of desire shifts into bliss I’ve never experienced before.