Chapter Ten

The gleaming white limo waited in the portico. The driver wore a black cap. A soft blue light glowed along the wood paneling of the bar where the champagne chilled.

That was all Sophie saw in the three seconds after he shut the limo door before he pounced on her.

There was no other way to describe it.

She was pinned on her back on the leather seat. His palms were planted firmly by her sides, and he stared at her hungrily as sexy techno music played from a speaker near the bar.

“Are you still mad at me about the jeans?” she asked, her breathing coming quickly. The car began to hum as it pulled away from the hotel, vibrating gently as it rolled along the Strip in Sunday night traffic.

“Do I look mad?”

“A little.”

“Does it turn you on if I’m angry with you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not mad. Because you have this,” he said, lowering his hand between her legs and fingering the hem of her pink skirt. “If you hadn’t brought it I wouldn’t do what I’m about to do. I’d send you home hot and bothered. Instead, I’m going to reward you.”

“How will you reward me?” she asked, as anticipation flared through her nervous system. This moment was the cusp—the tantalizing precipice before they ignited. The way he gazed at her like a predator sent her temperature rising. She wanted him so much. She wanted whatever he planned to give her.

“This,” he said, crushing her mouth in a kiss that scorched her body. He lowered himself onto her, and she moaned loudly, ready to offer a prayer of thanks to the universe for the delicious weight of his body. He was strong, and cut, and she hadn’t even seen him with a shred of clothing off, but she knew from the feel of his arms and the firmness of his ass that his body was going to be the most fuckable one she’d ever laid eyes on.

Not that she’d glimpsed many, but who cared? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was hard everywhere, and it turned her on beyond all reason, past all normal levels of arousal. She’d dreamed about this kind of chemistry, about giving up control, and it was even better than she’d imagined. His commanding touch set her mind free.

His mouth was a hunter, taking her lips, marking her as his. He kissed her ferociously, and she could barely move underneath him, nor did she want to. He’d somehow immobilized her with his arms, with his weight, with his hard cock that rubbed against her.

She’d never felt like this with her ex. Never. Their kisses had been playful and fun. They’d been two puppies tussling. Being kissed by Ryan was a mad claiming. His hand slinked down her side, and she gasped in pleasure, and that sound was swallowed up by his insistent lips on hers once more.

When he reached her ass, he squeezed one cheek, so hard she yelped. Then, in a flash, he’d moved from hovering over her to sitting. He pulled her on top of him so she straddled his legs, facing him.

“Change of plans?” she asked in between breaths.

“No,” he said, pushing her skirt so it bunched up at her hips. “This is what I have planned.” He gazed at her panties. Candy pink with a delicate heart-shaped bow. He ran his tongue over his top lip as he stared at her legs.

“They match the skirt,” she offered, as if this detail were somehow vital.

“That they do,” he said, and then she cried out as his hand landed on her ass. The sting radiated throughout her cheek.

“Did it hurt?”

“A little.”

“But did you like it?”

She nodded. “A lot.”

“Good. Because I loved it, too.” He rubbed his hand gently across her rear, soothing out the sting. “God, your ass is fucking perfect,” he whispered, with a kind of reverence that she’d never heard before. It thrilled her.

She tensed in anticipation as he lifted his arm again, and then his palm landed hard on her rear once more. She yelped as the sharpness spread. “Did that feel good too?” he asked.

She nodded on a pant, as he smoothed his hand against her backside.

“Then let’s see how you like it when it’s flesh on flesh,” he said, as he gathered the edges of the pink lace and tugged it inward.

Her eyes widened in shock as it registered fully what he was doing. He’d turned her panties into a thong, wedging the material into a tight thread between her legs, so the front rubbed her clit, and the back exposed her cheeks.

She trembled as she waited for another smack. “Is this for not wearing a skirt at first?”

With his left hand, he gripped her chin roughly. The callous touch sent hot sparks down her belly on a mad dash to between her legs. “This is what you wanted, Sophie. You wanted to test me. To see what I’d do. And I’m doing it. Because you wanted to know how it feels to have this perfect fucking flesh owned by a man who loves taking charge of you, and who is consumed with spanking this gorgeous ass.”

She almost asked how did you know? Instead, she asked something she longed to hear to answer to: “Do you love it?”

“I am fucking obsessed with it,” he said, his voice hot and filled with lust—a lust she’d inspired in him. That knowledge lit her up. Somehow, she was this man’s desire. She seemed to drive him wild. She quivered, waiting for the next swat as he licked a path along her neck up to her ear, whispering with a dirty sort of awe, “I’m obsessed with your ass. And your tits. And your body. And your lips. And your face. And I want to mark this beautiful, round, sweet ass with my palm.”

He let go of her chin and looked in her eyes. He tugged her panties, the tight fabric hitting her clit, setting off a chain reaction as he cracked his hand so damn hard on her ass that she flinched.

And gushed.

Oh God. She was so fucking liquid. She was so immeasurably turned on from all these new feelings crashing into her, colliding inside her body in sweet, filthy bliss. Her eyes fluttered closed as the sharp sting rippled through her. He rubbed his palm against her rear to erase the pain, and she whimpered at the quick shift from harsh to gentle.

Then she moaned loudly, because his hand was inside her panties.

“I need to know if you love it like I do,” he said, and his fingers glided across the evidence. He groaned appreciatively.

“I do,” she said. “I do, I do, I do.”

“Yes, you fucking do,” he said, sliding his expert fingers over her, touching her bare flesh, feeling her heat. She shuddered as he slid his fingers through all that wetness, then once again as he landed a biting slap on her rear. Heat pooled between her legs from the hit, turning her into an inferno. Sophie was learning that all her fantasies, all her dreams, all her wild imaginings of pain and pleasure were not only coming true, but she liked it.

No, she loved the mix of hurt and heat, of a sharp sting and a hot kiss. The evidence was on his fingers.

He gripped her hips and lifted her off him, laying her flat on her back again on the plush leather seats of the limo. She vaguely wondered where they were on the Strip, but she didn’t care enough to sneak a peek out the window, not with her body vibrating with this intense need to be touched.

“Where’s your purse?” he asked, glancing around.

She furrowed her brow, thrown off by the odd question. “My purse? It’s over there,” she said, pointing to the other side of the long car and the bench where she’d left her bag.

He stretched out and grabbed it.

“Why do you need my bag?”

“Do you trust me?” he countered, running his thumb along the slim strap of her purse.

She hardly knew him. But she’d already let him spank her, so she supposed in the context of the situation, the answer was that she did. The car slowed in traffic as she gave him her one-word answer.

“Yes.”

His lips curved in a small smile, and he dropped a quick kiss on the hollow of her throat. Then he grabbed her wrists, held them together, and positioned them above her head, so she was stretched out. He wrapped the purse strap around her wrists. When she turned her head to the side she realized what he was doing. He was tying the strap on her wrists to the seat belt buckle. Next he reached for the hem of her skirt and gently adjusted it over her ass. She wasn’t sure why he was covering her backside, until he tugged her legs while ensuring her punished ass didn’t rub against the leather. He pulled her along the seat, making her arms go taut. She’d become a straight line under his control, bound to his choices, yet somehow safe in his arms.

The prospect electrified her. All the planning and decisions and choices she managed all day long disappeared with this kind of letting go.

She breathed harder, lust and desire pent up inside her.

He kneeled at her feet on the end of leather seat, his hands wrapped around her ankles. “I want to tie these gorgeous feet up, too.” He bent his head to her legs, dusting the bare skin of her calf with a kiss. Her hips shot up.

“Oh God, please touch me,” she cried out.

He turned to her other leg, kissing her there, too, then biting down on her flesh.

“I can’t fucking resist,” he said, and grabbed her panties, yanking them hard down her legs. “I want your hands and your feet tied. Say you want it, too.”

“I do, I do,” she said quickly, the words spilling out.

With arms that moved like lightning, he had her pink lace at her ankles, and he turned the fabric in a knot, twisting the delicate lace. “I’ll buy you new ones. Just like this. Because these are so fucking hot I have to tie you with them.

“Please tie me up,” she said, squirming now, her body so damn desperate for his touch. “I don’t care about the panties.”

He finished his work on her ankles, and raised his head to meet her eyes. “You’re so gorgeous, Sophie,” he said, raking his eyes over her body. She was still fully clothed in her black blouse and pink skirt and black strappy shoes, but everything was in disarray and she didn’t care one bit. He ran his hands up her legs, caressing the soft skin on the inside of her thighs.

“Look at you. So ready for me. So ready for however I’m going to take you,” he said in a low, dirty growl. He reached the apex of her thighs, his thumbs brushing against her slick folds.

She gasped at his touch. “Take me,” she whispered.

He was on all fours, bent over her, his face near her hot center, her trussed-up feet under his knees.

“Open your thighs as far as you can,” he told her, and she did as commanded, parting her legs for him. In that position, she couldn’t spread them in a V; instead she opened into a diamond as one knee hit the side of the seat, the other the bottom.

“I love how turned on you get,” he said as his gaze returned to the center of her world. She ached. An exquisite, needy ache. He dragged one finger through her wetness, then brought that finger to his mouth. His eyes floated closed as he sucked off her taste, moaning as if she were his dessert.

“That’s so hot,” she whispered, burning up all over from watching him savor her, from waiting for him to make contact.

He opened his eyes, breathing hard through his nostrils as he licked his lips. “I want to hear you reach those high notes this time. I want you to shout and scream my name. Tell me to taste you. Say it. I want to watch those sexy red lips say it.”

“Taste me, Ryan,” she said.

He dropped his head between her legs, and spread her open, then licked—a torturously slow lick up her center that had her singing “Oh my fucking God” at the top of her lungs, the music and the partition making the limo their own pleasure zone. He’d worked her up so much already that it wouldn’t take long. He looked up. “You like that?”

“Yes, so much.”

He brushed his finger against her throbbing clit, and she rocked her hips into his hand. “Kiss me again,” she said, so damn desperate now.

“You need to say please,” he said, his eyes blazing as he issued an order.

Oh God, they were playing again. She barely knew the rules. She was figuring it out as she went along. “Please don’t stop. I’m dying for you. Please.”

“That’s better,” he said. “Now say don’t stop as I eat you. Say it over and over as I lick your absolutely perfect pussy.”

He dived back into her sex, licking and kissing and sucking. Making her tremble. Making her hot. Making her shudder. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she said over and over, and she meant it desperately. All she wanted was to come. To buck into his mouth, and soar off that cliff of pleasure. To fall apart as he buried his face between her legs. With her arms stretched so tight she couldn’t move, her ankles bound by her own panties, and Ryan kneeling over her hot, wet, pulsing center, she thrust upward.

Fucking him so he wouldn’t stop.

He murmured and groaned as she moved beneath him. His hands curled around her ass gently, as if he were aware it still might hurt. But nothing hurt now. She only knew pleasure, only understood desire. Lust was their shared language, as his magic tongue drew wickedly wonderful lines up and down, flicking her clit, kissing her pussy. She screamed and writhed, calling out his name, shouting to the heavens that she was on her way to bliss. He sent her flying over that edge as she came hard.

A minute later, he’d untied her purse from the buckle. She lowered her arms to her waist; the strap was still wrapped around her wrists, her bag by her side.

“Sophie,” he said, his voice gravelly and deadly serious. “I need something from you now. I’m fucking desperate for it.”

“Okay,” she said, still loopy from the mind-blowing orgasm.

“You gotta sit up, get down on your knees, and suck me hard,” he said as he stroked the thick bulge in his pants.

A fresh round of sparks rained down in her body from his dirty words. “Gladly,” she said, so damn eager to taste him. “Want to untie me?”

He shook his head. “Yeah, that’s the thing. I won’t do that.”

Blow jobs were a hell of a good time, but she did a better job at blowing when she could use her hands. “But wouldn’t it be—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “You said you trusted me, right?”

She nodded, even as a small swell of nerves rose up inside her. She could trust him, right? She wasn’t being foolish, was she?

“Good,” he said softly, running a hand through her hair. “Because I need you on your knees.”

Oh lord, how she’d longed to hear those words. How she’d craved to get on her knees for a man like this.

She dropped to the carpet, her hands tethered tightly to her own purse, which dangled in front of her, and she watched as he untucked his shirt and unzipped his pants. Arousal raced through her at the sight of him.

He pushed down his boxer briefs.

She drew a sharp inhale at the sight of his gorgeous cock. Her lips parted instantly, and her mouth watered with want. His dick was thick, hard, and long. He stroked it with his right hand, and the fire inside her roared. “Come here. Take me in,” he whispered, and with his free hand, he grasped the back of her head, guiding her to his shaft. A drop of liquid was on the head, and her tongue darted out to taste it.

He grinned. “You like that?”

“I do,” she said breathily.

“Well, I love blow jobs, so I have a feeling this is going to be good for both of us,” he said, gently tugging her closer. She opened her mouth wide, her lips tightening over her teeth as he fed her his dick.

It was his turn to groan. “Yeah. Just like that, beautiful. Just like that,” he said, his voice rumbling.

She’d never done this hands-free, but he tasted so good, the perfect mix of clean and musky—of sex and freshly-showered male—that she let go of her worry about not using her hands. Besides, she had no choice. She had only one instrument. Her mouth.

He gently guided her head up and down, moving her mouth along his cock at just the right speed. All she had to do was suck. She tightened her lips as he rocked into her.

“I pictured this the day I met you,” he said on a loud moan.

She raised her eyebrows as if to say, You did?

“You were so stunning. In that dress. Those tits. That hair. The whole Marilyn Monroe thing you have going on,” he said, roping his fingers through her hair. “I wanted to have you from the second I laid eyes on you.”

She sucked harder, listening to him tell the story of wanting her. It thrilled her to be desired like this, in the same way, with the same kinks. To discover they fit sexually was such a high for Sophie. She’d been craving this kind of electric chemistry in the bedroom.

Not only craving it. Needing it.

“I wanted to fuck you from the second I saw you,” he said on a thrust, filling her mouth. “I wanted to eat you,” he said, as he curled his fingers tighter around her skull. “I wanted to make you come.” He hit the back of her throat and her eyes watered. But she kept going, pushing past the gag reflex. “And I wanted to come in that pretty mouth of yours,” he said and inhaled sharply, breathing erratically. He squeezed his eyes shut, grasped her head, and came in her throat.

* * *

He scooped her up and set her down on the seat, still woozy from his own climax. But he wasn’t so sex-drunk that he couldn’t focus on taking care of her. Before pulling up his briefs, he unknotted her panties from her feet, untied her from her purse, set the bag down on the seat, and held up her wrists.

“How do they feel?”

She shot him a sly grin. “The purse is made of only the finest leather, so they feel quite fine.”

He laughed, and dropped a kiss to her forehead, then tucked himself back in. She pulled her panties on, glancing down at them. “Hmm. They are a little stretched. But I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I. And I promise to replace them immediately.” He tipped his head to the bar. “Champagne?”

“I’d love some. You should have some, too, especially since you don’t have to do bone graft surgery tonight. Or so I presume.”

“No. I don’t. Lucky me,” he said, then poured two glasses from the bar, and handed one to her. He clinked his flute to hers then wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder and her neck as they chatted and drank the bubbly beverage while they drove around the city with no destination and no goal but time together in a long, sleek car.

Later, he had the driver take her to the front door of her building. He stepped out of the car with her, and before she left, he reached for her hand, and kissed the top of it.

“You’re beautiful. And dirty. And clever. And you take direction like a very good girl.”

She batted her eyes in an over-the-top way as she sidled up against him. “Does that mean I’ve earned the dog photo?”

He squeezed her ass, savoring once more the way it felt in the palm of his hand. “You have absolutely earned it.” Then he let go and looked her in the eyes, surprising himself a bit with the words that escaped his mouth. “So what would you think about a third date?”

For a moment he was nervous. He desperately wanted her yes, even though he was as sure as a man could be that he’d get it.

She shot him that bright, gorgeous smile that could light up a night sky. “I think I’d wonder how you plan on topping the first two, because they’ve been spectacular. So I’d say yes out of curiosity.”

As the driver headed for his house, he tried to keep his mind blank to avoid the litany of questions he wanted to ask himself. But when Johnny Cash greeted him at the door, the questions tumbled free as he petted the dog’s head. “What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? Because I am counting down the hours ’til I see her again.”

The dog thumped his tail on the floor and whined. A sign he had to pee.

Ryan took him to the backyard and wished he didn’t like Sophie so much already.