Chapter 17 - Carissa #2
He settled in to devour me good and solid, hands gripping my hips, holding me in place while he feasted.
His tongue circled my clit with a precision that told me he knew exactly what he was doing.
And he was good. He varied the pressure, building a rhythm that had my hips lifting off the seat to meet more of him. Always more.
“Right there… Oh, God…” My fingers raked through his hair and pushed his face harder against me.
He moved one hand from my hip to slip two fingers inside me in one smooth, unforgiving thrust. I cried out, the fullness a perfect counterpoint to the frantic work of his tongue.
He curled his fingers, finding a spot deep inside that made me see stars, pumping them in a steady, driving rhythm that matched the delicious circles his tongue was making.
It was too much and yet, not enough. The coil of pleasure low in my belly wound impossibly tight, a spring ready to snap.
My breaths came in broken, ragged whimpers as I arched my back.
The world narrowed to the slick, hot sounds of his mouth, the scent of our shared arousal, and the feel of the supple leather under my ass.
“I can feel you squeezing down on my fingers. You’re so close,” he growled against my pussy, his words a heated declaration. “Come for me. I want to taste it.”
His command, raw and guttural, was the final key to the building pressure at my core. The tension shattered.
My climax tore through me with such force that my hips jerked up, smashing me harder into his mouth.
A silent scream got caught in my throat as my body seized with it, a thousand shards of fiery pleasure taking me over.
My fingers clamped in his hair as I rode the endless wave of it, his tongue slowing, lapping gently as he drew every last shuddering spasm from me.
Slowly, so slowly, I floated back down. My body went limp, spent and trembling. Dawson pressed a final, soft kiss to my oversensitive clit, then rested his head against my inner thigh, his own breathing coming in quick, warm pants.
I floated in a hazy, sated bliss, the world a distant murmur, and let out a long, shaky sigh, body still pulsing when he came to sit beside me. With one strong arm behind my back, he pulled me into his lap, a knee on either side of him.
His face was half in shadow, the other half lit up in passing moments; his mouth a straight line of restraint. But, God, his eyes. I found myself damn near drowning in their intensity.
His hand touched my neck, thumb brushing gently over my throat, up to my chin, then my lips, which he traced with agonizing slowness. I locked eyes with him as I sucked it into my mouth.
“Fuck…”
My face burned with excitement knowing the effect I had on him. Everything about this night—about Dawson—thrummed beneath my skin, awakened by this unexpected turn of events. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too.
“I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” I admitted in a whisper, my voice nearly catching on the words.
He was my boss. We were in the back of his limo, winding through the streets of Vegas. There was a tint, sure, but if we stopped moving for long enough, and a passerby thought to look hard enough, we’d be found out.
And then there was the small matter of Boone. His twin brother.
I watched his hand move lower, slipping under the heap of my dress now pooled around my waist. His touch sent another shiver through me, and I leaned into it, eyes fluttering closed.
“Me neither.” His voice was so thick with arousal I could barely make out what he said.
Not that it mattered much. No words really did. Not now.
His hand slid over my ribs and to my back, tugging me closer so that I fell into him, sighing as his mouth found my neck, my thready pulse going crazy under his lips.
I rolled my hips, relishing the friction from the straining bulge in his pants, but also testing.
I didn’t want to hold out for much longer.
“Careful.” He lowered his head again, and kissed the dip of my throat, my chin, before finally pulling me into a kiss that made my body weak.
I melted into him, eagerly accepting the warmth of his tongue sliding over mine. He kissed me as if he was desperate for it, and I returned the same. Because it was the most honest thing. I was desperate for it. For him.
Without breaking contact with my mouth, Dawson shrugged out of his jacket and fumbled to get his pants undone.
I helped him along, popping the buttons on his shirt with urgency.
His bare chest was smooth and sculpted, muscles flexing under my greedy touch.
My fingers traced the cut of his hips and the hard lines of his abs, appraising him, memorizing what I could.
Glancing down, a glimpse of his cock made me gasp.
He was taller than Boone, and that detail showed up in a way that made my pussy throb.
The car was humid now, our bodies hot against one another, warm and sticky as sweat pooled behind my knees and at the small of my back. The windows had grown foggy too, lending an eerie slant to the world passing by outside.
With one hand on my hip, the other at my back, he angled his dick toward me.
I reached down between my thighs, feeling for him as I inched down.
I was wet enough that the glide was easy and didn’t take much work to get him fully sheathed inside me.
I gave a long, drawn-out exhale once I was splayed flat on his lap with him buried all the way.
Another breath, giving myself a moment to accommodate his size, and then I rolled my hips once.
Dawson moaned low, and pressed his face between my breasts, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of my hips.
I ran my fingers through his sweat-damp hair before taking his face in both my hands to tip his head back.
His expression was questioning as he gazed at me through hooded eyes, but there was nothing I wanted to say.
I leaned in and kissed him again, my hips rising slightly and falling back down on his rock-hard shaft.
The kiss was slow, teasing, just me giving myself permission to savor the moment as I adjusted to the stretch of his huge cock.
“Carissa,” he whispered against my mouth. “You feel incredible.”
The heat in my body surged.
He lifted his hips to meet my movements, and confidently guided me into a rhythm that rocked the limo as it tried to move smoothly on its path back to the mansion.
We couldn’t have been too far out now, and my suspicion was echoed in Dawson’s determination as he picked up the pace, thrusting up into me harder, faster, making my breasts bounce with the movement.
He cupped one of my breasts, squeezing the nipple between two fingers before giving it a slight tug. Hard enough to elicit a shaky whine from me. I rode him harder in response, arousal building to an unstoppable crescendo.
“Fuck,” he breathed, and the sound of him unraveling beneath me sent a fresh squirt of juice dripping out of my pussy, getting his dick all slick.
All the better to fuck me with.
His thrusts became jerky, but it was me who stumbled first. Ribbons of heat in my belly made my pussy pulse and clench around him, my looming climax aching for its time to shine. I chased the feeling, meeting his movements as he drove into me over and over again.
“I think I’m— I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—”
“That’s it,” Dawson encouraged, sweeping the hair from my face so he could look at me. “Show me. I want to feel you come around me.”
I dipped my hips so my clit brushed his cock every time I rolled back, and the additional sensation made my toes curl. He felt so fucking good it took me biting down on my lips to keep from crying out.
And as much as he tried to hold back, his rhythm faltered at the same time.
I felt his cock twitching inside me as his whole body tensed up, head thrown back against the seat and his fingertips digging into my skin hard enough to bruise.
My second orgasm shattered me, and I moaned louder than I meant to, resulting in Dawson’s hand coming up to stifle me as I rode it out on top of him.
He laughed softly, and kissed my cheek as I panted into his hand, my body finally going soft and supple.
I didn’t move until he’d emptied the last drop of his come inside me, then I slowly lifted up on my shaky knees, letting his half-limp shaft slip out before settling back into his lap again.
We sat that way for a while, pressed close, catching our breath.
I couldn’t believe that a week ago I’d been crying on his sofa, questioning the choices that had led me to his door.
Now, I only felt happy. And sleepy. I fought back a contented yawn as I laid my head on his shoulder, focusing on the way his heartbeat matched mine.
Slowing back to normal with every fucked-out breath we took.
I could’ve stayed that way all night, curled into him, his breath on my face, fingers affectionately running through and smoothing my hair. But the low whirr of the engine as we pulled up to the gates ushered in a different reality.
“You better not be asleep.” He sounded about halfway there himself, but the implication of his words got my attention.
I lifted my head to look at him. “What do you mean?”
The limo swept to the front of the mansion and rolled to a stop, the glow from the lamp posts lighting up the flicker in his eyes. My pussy clenched, recognizing that look before my brain did.
“I mean you can’t go to sleep,” he said, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Because I’m not finished with you yet.”