18. Bad Ideas #2
Like that, I carry her to the couch, lay her down, and arch a brow. “Not sure this will surprise you, but I have no choice,” I say, then unzip her slacks and whip them off in seconds.
Her hazel eyes flash with heat. She knows exactly what I’m thinking.
She sets a hand on my shoulder, and just when I think she’s about to push me to the floor, she slides off the couch and pats the cushion.
“It’s still my turn. And I’ve been waiting. I don’t know if you got the invitation from my tonsils,” she says, her voice sultry, “but they’d like to get to know your big dick.”
I was wrong. This is not a bad idea. This is a perfect night.
Nope. I’m still wrong. Because when she lowers the zipper on my slacks, pushes down my boxer briefs, and parts her lips, it becomes…more perfect.
She meets my eyes, then pops her lips, showing me she’s slicked on lip gloss.
When she was running down the street?
A hot shiver runs through me over that image.
My brain fries.
Then she flicks the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip and dives in.
“Oh, fuck,” I grunt.
It’s instant and electric.
She licks the crown of my cock, her tongue swirling, lapping up a bead of liquid arousal.
“Yes,” I groan.
It’s so good already. I hold the base, offering my dick to her for the taking.
And she takes. Holy hell, does she take.
I thought she’d tease me—yes, I’ve thought about this only ten million times—but she surprises me here, too, when she hoovers my dick past her lips.
In seconds, she’s got me halfway in, and she’s looking up at me with a wicked, wicked grin. She knows. She fucking knows. “You goddess,” I mutter.
Her eyes flash with mirth and filth. It’s a beautiful combo.
She hums as she draws me deeper, then pauses, like she’s adjusting to me. But she doesn’t stop. She wriggles and breathes through it. Like she needs deep breaths to relax her body for me. To relax her throat.
Her shoulders rise and fall, then she parts her lips wider.
Ah, fuck.
Pleasure shoots through me. Hot sparks rush down my body as she draws my dick another inch into the paradise of her warm, wet mouth.
Her lush lips are stretched wide around my cock. Her hands fiddle with my slacks, tugging at them. I lift up my ass, she pulls them farther down, then drags those long nails along my thighs as she sucks my dick to the back of her throat.
All my synapses fire at once.
Every single one of them.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, grabbing her hair, roping my fingers through it. It’s so fucking good—the feel of her mouth, the tightness of her grip, the slide of her tongue.
She eases me out, and a hot wave rolls over me, then slams in when she takes me all the way back in.
“Yes, take it, baby. Just fucking take it,” I say. “You were so damn patient.”
She smiles as she sucks, and something squeezes in my chest. Pleasure, yes. But something else too. Fondness? I don’t even know. I’m just sparking everywhere as Chloe Rivers goes to town on my cock, sucking me deep and nearly dry, and soon my balls are tingling, and I’m going to shoot any second.
But that won’t do. That won’t do at all.
When I’m this close, I grit my teeth, then say, “Stop. Please stop.”
She lets me fall from her lips. “Why?” She sounds too innocent. “Didn’t you want to come in my mouth?”
“Too much.” I bend closer and plant a quick, searing kiss on those lovely lips. When I let go, I say, “But I need you to sit on my dick right now. Put that midnight jog down the street to good use.”
I grab the condom from the couch cushion next to me as she pops up from the floor, reaches for the top button of her blouse, then strips it off.
And yes, fuck yes.
Her clothes disappear in seconds, and when she’s down to just her bra, she’s already pushing her panties off and climbing on my lap. I’m busy opening the protection, but she shakes her head.
“What?” I’m not quite alarmed but a little concerned.
“Take off the shirt. It’s no fair that I’m the only one nearly naked.”
Oh. Well, consider that done.
Setting down the condom, I undo the tie while she unbuttons my shirt, and together—like how we pitched the producer—we get my shirt off. As she tosses the tie behind her with a particular flourish, I shove my pants from my legs. She frees the condom, rolling it down my dick.
I grab her hips and settle her across my lap as my body becomes an inferno. I meet her gaze. “Get on me now.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, then grabs my dick and lines me up.
Fire races through my veins as Chloe rubs the head through all that incomparable wetness. It’s incredible, the slick, hot feel of her.
She sinks down, and my whole body shakes with pleasure. I toss my head back, clenching my teeth, getting a grip on myself so I don’t fucking explode right now.
When I raise my face, she’s looking at me with flushed cheeks and glittering eyes. “Nice dick,” she says.
“Use it, sweetheart. Use my dick however you want.” I dig my fingers into the sweet flesh of her ass cheeks as she rises up, up, up, till I’m barely inside her.
She drops back down, and when my dick disappears in her pussy, I nearly lose my mind. “Fuck yes,” I mutter.
And I don’t stop muttering as she rides me, her tits bouncing in her demi-cup bra, her hands gripping my shoulders, her nails digging into my shoulders.
She’s reckless, fearless, her hair spilling down her back as she chases what she wants—her pleasure.
It’s the sexiest thing ever. The way she knows how to get there, how she finds the right angle, the right pace, then leans in closer, her tits smashed to my chest, grinding, grinding deeper, then maneuvering a hand between us so she can rub her clit till she’s panting, gasping, shrieking—
Then she calls my name.
And all the tension I’ve been holding, all the desire I’ve had to keep at bay, all the lust, all the longing is unleashed as I follow her there, coming hard. My vision goes black, and the world beyond these walls stops mattering.
A minute later—maybe more—I open my eyes, and she’s still slumped on me, sated, humming happily. I run a hand down her back, savoring the feel of her smooth, soft skin.
I breathe in her scent, letting it fill my head.
Letting it drown out my thoughts.
For a moment—maybe more—my mind races dangerously ahead. To her bedroom. To the morning. To more times like this. And that just can’t happen. No matter how badly I want it.
I snap my head up, clear my throat, and say, “I should…clean up.”
“Yeah,” she says, sounding sex drunk, a little raspy.
Tension lines my body as I wonder what’s next. If I’ll have the guts to leave, like I should. Or if I’ll cave. Like I want to. Like I really, really want to.
Chloe’s expression shifts—turns serious, businesslike. “And then…you should probably go.”
My chest aches the slightest bit. I should have seen that coming. But I didn’t. “Right, sure,” I say, grabbing my clothes.
“I mean, otherwise I’ll be climbing you again in thirty minutes, and you need your rest,” she says, trying for playful.
But it lands like a compliment to cover kicking me out.
And it hurts more than it should—even though I know she’s right.
I should go.