CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tabby
The horde of people in the airport was nothing I was expecting to encounter, and several elbows jutted into my ribs as I grabbed my luggage off the belt. In an attempt to escape the throng, I bustled toward the exit and started going over a mental plan to catch a cab.
As soon as I stepped outside, however, I noticed the limo. I didn’t even realize I recognized the man beside it at first. Just the sight of the limo was enough to send me into a mental tailspin. Was it Owen? Then, I saw the face of the driver waiting at the curb, and every ounce of my being turned to jelly.
It was.
“Good afternoon, Miss Tabby,” Stephan greeted me, stepping forward.
Before I could respond, the car door opened and out stepped the man I’d had fixated in my mind for the past couple of weeks. Hair purposefully disheveled, eyes narrowed and sensuous, lips smirking with unspoken threat, Owen was standing in front of me and I couldn’t get any oxygen.
“Good afternoon, Miss Tabby,” he parroted in a murmur.
“How did you…?” Of course he would have known when to pick me up as he was the one who’d secured the flight in the first place. My heart was hammering against my ribcage, but I swore it missed a beat at random intervals. He was just so damn attractive.
“May I take your bags?” Stephan asked. He spoke tentatively as if concerned he was interrupting a private moment.
I looked down at my luggage. In my surprise, I’d completely forgotten I had any bags. Hell, I’d forgotten where I was. I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell someone my name without thinking about it first if anyone had come by and asked.
“Oh, yeah, thank you,” I told him, and also handed him my coat. The sixty-degree December weather in Louisiana felt like a balmy beach after Chicago’s frozen tundra.
He smiled as he reached first for my carry-on, then my suitcase. There was genuine happiness behind the smile, like it actually mattered to him that I came. I felt a warmth spread through my chest at the sight. Stephan might have been Owen’s driver, but he had a friendliness about him that balanced out the doubts I was still struggling with about making this journey to Louisiana.
While Stephan retreated to the trunk to stow my bags, Owen stood in his place by the door and motioned to it. “After you.”
I crept into the limo cautiously. The way I was acting, people would think I was tiptoeing my way through a haunted house, but I couldn’t help it. My nerves had gone into overload and I was an unsettling blend of paranoid, anxious, excited, and wickedly aroused. Settling onto the seat didn’t help the latter, either, as the leather reminded me of the tryst on the way to The Blackjack Club. I crossed my legs and tried not to think about the way the pressure clenched my clit.
Owen got himself in as well and had just closed the door when Stephan claimed the driver’s seat. “Shall we go, Mr. Driscoll?” he called to the back.
“Yes,” Owen answered. Stephan nodded once, put the limo in drive, and we were off.
I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t even given Owen a proper hello. In fact, the word hadn’t yet come out of my mouth. It seemed too late to say it now, but I didn’t want him to think I was rude. Just as I made up my mind to greet him the way a person should, however, he pressed a button and the privacy screen glided up into place to separate us from Stephan.
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said.
His voice was low, his eyes like lasers burning into me, and his masculine scent filled me to the brim. The air between us did everything short of crackle with electricity. He was on the rearmost seat with his knees at least a foot away, but I felt like he was right beside me. My clit seemed to quiver between my crossed legs, and the moisture at my crux thickened as air became harder to suck in and out of my lungs.
I lifted a shoulder in a shrug that I hoped appeared completely casual and unperturbed. “Well, I came.”
His face darkened, and the left corner of his mouth rose in an ominous smirk. “Not yet.”
And then my control crumbled.
His nails grazed my sides as fingers clawed around my middle and climbed to the buttons on my shirt, then my bra clasp. Teeth bumped teeth as tongues twirled together in a frenzy. My nipples met air conditioning and stiffened to peaks, and panties joined his jacket in a journey to the floor. My shoulders ground into leather and knees locked around his hips.
He was inside me. Deep, plunging, powerful. Stroke after stroke, my skull slamming into a cushioned backrest, his length filled me with ardor. The lip of his unbuttoned trousers licked the swells of my ass cheeks with every thrust, and the peak of his silk tie stroked the space between my bared breasts. His mouth was on mine, hot and wet. Everything was buzzing. My clit, my folds, my skin, my brain. He rocketed into me over and over again, and when a moan lilted from my mouth to his, he swallowed it like a starved man.
“No,” he rasped against my lips. “Don’t.”
I tried to protest, but he choked me with his tongue and blocked any argument I could’ve possibly made. I was clinging by a thread, desperate to oblige his order but equally desperate to unravel. He stroked faster. The head of his cock throttled my sweet spot relentlessly, and the pressure of his pelvis on my mound mirrored the motion against my clit. I was his puppet to be used and manhandled as he pleased, but I was sure it pleased me exponentially more than it did him because I couldn’t imagine any human alive had ever felt such pleasure before. Again, again, again, somehow deeper with each slam, he took me as he devoured my mouth and my moans.
My legs tightened around him. The place where my ankles were twisted together had become slickened by sweat, and I lost the ability to keep them clenched, but I scored my knees to his sides and lifted my hips. It was coming, the edge, in all its promised glory, and I was ready to meet it…
Suddenly, I was facedown on the seat with my rear in the air and his still-clothed chest plastered against my back. A palm, sharp and quelling, fell hard against my ass and sent snaps of pain shooting up to the place where he conjoined with me.
“No!” he barked over my startled yelp.
I was stunned, not only by his swiftness but also by his apparent divination. “How did you know?” I gasped. A droplet of saliva rolled down my cheek to the leather below me.
“You’re not sneaky, sweetheart,” he growled. I detected a whiff of amusement in his tone. “Your body gives you away every time.”
His hands secured around my hips, his fingers tucking into the space where my belly ended and my mons began, and he barreled forward. From this angle, I felt everything much more viscerally, and I could’ve sworn I felt the tip of him prod the base of my throat. He felt enormous, and every ounce of composure I possessed shriveled as he speared me. The sound that rose from my diaphragm was so feral it was hardly human, and my nails left deep scars in the expensive leather upholstery as I scrabbled for anything to grip. I heard him exhale his approval behind me.
“Yes,” he hissed, snakelike.
“Now? Can I now?” I pleaded. The question was essentially useless as I didn’t have a mite of control over what was happening to me. If I was going to climax, I was going to do so whether he agreed or not.
“Oh, no,” he said with silken malevolence. “You’re not ready yet.”
I groaned and smashed a palm against the seat. “Yes, I am!”
A second spank landed on my butt, and I squealed. “Keep it up, kitten. My hand is far from tired.” It was almost like a challenge.
It didn’t matter. He could spank me until I was black and blue, but the fact remained that I was quickly plummeting into the abyss of orgasmic euphoria, and once that happened there was no turning back. In an attempt to stave off the impending burst for another precious moment or two, I jammed my teeth into the cushion and bit with vice-like strength. The fabric croaked in consternation, but I wasn’t going to let go, not until either he or I relented.
Then, in a cruel twist, he released a hip. His thrusts slowed and shallowed, and his breath stilled. I felt the vagrant hand slip along my belly, fingers scribbling lightly with ticklish intent, and the second an unsolicited giggle oozed from my throat that cursed hand shot down to my pussy and laid claim to my clit. His fingers moved in circles and lines across the nerve-laden surface, and I realized he wanted me to break because he wanted a reason to punish me. He’d said so before, the last time I came without asking him first and earning his permission.
Whatever his reason, he was going to get his wish.
I trembled from head to toe, and my head rocked back as a loud, plaintive moan swelled through my teeth. He leaned down over me until his mouth was pressed against my ear.
“Now,” he commanded.
His pelvis rocketed forward again, and I careened headfirst into an orgasm so powerful I was rendered blind, deaf, and dumb. My world became nerve endings, billions of them, all stimulated at once. If he was coming simultaneously, I had no idea, and I honestly didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. It wasn’t possible for me to care because I was no longer alive. I wasn’t even a thing. I just was.
When the first waves began to ebb away and allow me to step back into normalcy, I realized his mouth was still against my ear — either that, or he’d replaced it there after finishing himself. “I hope you’re not tired,” he whispered. “We have a big night ahead of us.”
I didn’t reply, but I couldn’t help wondering what in the hell could possibly be bigger than what had just happened.