Fifteen

Ava

As we stepped off the elevator into a penthouse apartment, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I stared out at the city below us through the large, open windows.

“For someone who works such a boring job–no offense–you sure have a hell of a place,” I said.

“What can I say? Business is going well,” he said.

“What did you say your company imports again?” I asked on a laugh.

He pulled me flush with his side as we stepped further into his home—it wasn’t lost on me that he’d ignored my question. Ian had mentioned how he didn’t like to discuss business, and that was fine by me. We both had secrets to hide, he just wasn’t privy to the fact that I, in fact, was already well aware of his true identity.

The penthouse apartment opened to a large, open living room with black leather sofas facing the windows–not the television. In fact, I didn’t see a television in the place. If there was one, it was hidden away. And hidden well, I might add. Maybe Ian wasn’t one who enjoyed idle time in front of the tube. I could respect that.

As I stepped into the living area, I saw the kitchen behind me, gorgeously decked out in marble and stainless steel. For as beautiful as it was, there was a very clean, almost sanitized style about the place. It felt like no one actually lived there. Like it was just a model apartment. Just for show. Because there was no way it could be this immaculate.

A spiral staircase led to an overlook with a king-sized bed. I could see his bedroom from the ground floor, and like everything else in this place, it felt almost too perfect, too clean.

Ian walked over to the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine.

“Oh no, I thought I was only here until we sobered up,” I said with a laugh.

“Who are we kidding, Ava?” he chuckled.

His voice was more definitive than before. He seemed a little more certain and steady on his feet. Ian smiled at me, a knowing smile of a man who knew he was about to get what he wanted. Not that I could fault him. I’d been laying it on pretty thick at the restaurant. And truth be told, a good old-fashioned fuck didn’t sound too shabby. Especially with a guy who looked like Ian.

He poured two glasses of wine and walked over, offering me one. At first, I pretended to refuse, which he shrugged off, preparing to place it on the table next to me. Then I took it from his hand and swallowed down a long gulp. I needed the liquid courage. It had been too long since I’d gone home with a man—much less a guy who turned me on as much as he did.

“Thought you wanted to sober up?” he teased.

“Thought you knew me better than that?” I teased back.

I took another long drink before placing the wine glass on the table next to me. Ian did the same.

We stood there, our eyes locked on one another and a warm feeling spread through my belly and parts even lower. I felt his breath warm against my cheek as he leaned forward, brushing his delectable lips against mine. Closing my eyes, I sighed as he kissed me. Softly, at first. But then, his hands cupped my cheeks, and he pulled me closer. I bit his lip playfully, but that only urged him to kiss me harder, his tongue moving past my lips and into my mouth as he literally stole my breath away.

His hands worked my hair free from the clips holding it in place, and my red waves spilled across my shoulders surrounding us in a soft, velvet curtain.

Ian kissed his way down my neck, nibbling as he went along, his hands kneading up and down my sides. My hands had a mind of their own, working their way down the buttons on his shirt. I needed to feel his chest, to touch his bare skin. To see him in all his beautiful Irish glory.

My hands fumbled with the buttons, but eventually, I slipped his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. Ian’s hands moved upward, ripping my shirt off and exposing my black satin push-up bra. His eyes widened in excitement as he looked from my breasts to my eyes briefly. He cupped my breasts, roughly flicking my nipples with the tips of his fingers.

“Mmmmmhhmmmm,” I moaned.

“You like that,” he growled, his voice low and husky as he nibbled my ear lobe.

“Yes.” My voice came out in breathy gasps.

“I didn’t hear you,” he challenged, jerking my hair back so I was now staring him in the eyes.

“Yes,” I said again, alarmed and a little—no, a lot—turned on.

He removed my bra quickly and leaned down to take my nipple into his mouth. Surprisingly, he sucked gently as he looked up at me, watching the expression on my face as he sucked. I bit my lip, my body shivering as I leaned against him. He moved from my right breast to the left, each nip and lick of his tongue growing more feral with need. I groaned, feeling myself growing wetter and wetter, yearning for him to be inside of me.

His hand moved up my skirt, slipping my panties aside as he slid a finger between my lips.

“Oh fuck. You’re wet and so fuckin’ warm, sweetheart,” he said. His finger slipped deeper inside of me, drawing a yelp of pleasure out of my throat. “And so damn tight.”

Ian worked his fingers inside of me, stroking that sweet spot that had my mind spiraling out of control and craving a release. He peppered sweet kisses along my neck then taunted my lips with a consuming, heated kiss as his palm rocked against my clit. I was utterly spent, emotionally confused on whether I wanted to come immediately or for the sweet torture to continue until I could no longer breathe.

“Please,” I begged him. For what? I wasn’t sure.

“Please what?” he rasped, grinding his palm harder against my clit as his fingers danced on my G-spot. Motherfuck, motherfuck, motherfuck.

The craving for release won out over the need for his touch. “Please–I need you, Ian,” I whispered.

“Louder,” he demanded.

“I need you, Ian. I need you inside of me,” I said, my voice feeling like it was betraying me.

It was breathy and barely coming out at all. My body was tight and spasming as he fingered me, the convulsions of pleasure barely letting me speak–that’s what he was doing to me.

“Tell me what you need from me, Ava. You need to ask for it,” he ordered, his voice unfamiliar—scary—yet sexy. “I want you to beg me for it.”

The charming, chivalrous gentlemen was gone, replaced by a bad boy in the bedroom. Not that I was complaining. My body was enjoying this very much, more than I could have imagined would be possible. I was always the one in charge. The one in control. And yet, there I was, the submissive—needing to beg and plead for what I wanted and needed.

And it was so fucking hot. My body was responding very happily to Ian’s commands.

“Fuck me, Ian,” I begged, “Please, fuck me.”

I had idly wondered how we were going to get up to the bedroom in our current state, but I didn’t have to wonder for long. I watched as he dropped his pants to the floor, wearing nothing but a pair of green boxers. My hands reached for his erection, but he grabbed my hands, holding them tightly in his.

“Not yet,” he said. “You’ve been such a fuckin’ tease all night, sweetheart. Now it’s your turn to be teased.”

Ian dropped to his knees and before I knew what was happening, his face was between my legs. I fell backward, sitting awkwardly on the corner of the couch, as his tongue worked its magic on my pussy.

My legs wrapped around his head as he kissed and sucked on my clit, bringing me to the peak of pleasure before changing his rhythm and sending me hurling backward as my climax was forced to start building all over again. I growled and ground myself against his face, frustrated that he’d brought me so close to orgasm each and every time, but he never let me finish. Not yet at least.

He wanted me to beg for it. He wanted me to plead and show him that he was very firmly in command of the situation.

So, I gave him exactly want he wanted and begged him, “Please, Ian. Please, Oh God, please finish me, please.”

As a ripple of intense pleasure tore through my body, I threw my head back and tangled my hands in his hair, pressing his mouth down harder on me. I thrust my body up to meet his lips and if it weren’t for his hands on my ass, I would have fallen from the couch. But I didn’t fall. Ian wrapped an arm under my hips while splaying the other across my abdomen, holding me tight against his mouth as he tongue fucked me.

“Please, let me come,” I cried out.

And this time, when I approached the peak, he didn’t stop. He devoured me with his tongue— licking, sucking, and driving it deep inside of me. He let the pleasure build up slow until it exploded, a surge of electricity tweaking every nerve cell in my frenzied body. I gripped his head tight as he buried his tongue deep inside of me, and all I could do was cry out his name over and over again as I climaxed. Tiny jolts and tingles blanketing my skin in my heady release.

Once my body stopped spasming and calmed down, I opened my haze-filled eyes and looked down to see Ian–his face shiny and wet with my juices–smiling up at me. He was pleased with himself. God, he was so fucking pleased with himself.

He stood up, licking his lips as he stared at me with a look of complete lust. I watched as his boxers fell to the floor, and my eyes grew wide as I stared at his erection, big and hard in front of me.

I reached out for him, but again, he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head in one hand. He guided me back onto the couch, this time flat on my back as he fell on top of me. With his body pressing against mine, I thrust myself upward, trying to close the distance between us.

I so badly wanted to touch him, and I struggled to break free. But he held me down and covered me with kisses from my lips to my neck to my collarbone, all the while I felt his cock pressing against me, not yet inside of me. So frustratingly close and yet so far away.

Finally, he let go of my hands, and I touched that beautiful body. My hands roamed through the hair on his chest and down to the v of his pelvis and then feeling his dick in my hand. He seemed to grow harder at my touch, and he closed his eyes, a low groan escaping his throat as I stroked him. I tried guiding him toward my entrance, but he grabbed my hand again, this time holding himself directly above me.

“Beg for it,” he demanded.

“Please, Ian. Fuck me,” I whimpered.

And it was in that moment, that he closed the distance between our bodies, pressing himself firmly against my opening before pushing past, entering me at long last. My body felt like it exploded in a shower of light.

We both let out a groan as our bodies united as one. I stared up at his chiseled face and watched as his eyes fluttered as he buried his cock deep inside of me. He moved slowly, surely, stretching me open as he thrust himself deep inside of me. My body adjusted to his size quickly. I was already turned on and wet as ever, so he’d been able to slip inside of me easily.

Slowly, he rocked back and forth, thrusting in and out of me with a gentle rhythm, letting our bodies get used to being together. But as the pleasure built up, his movements became faster, more desperate.

My legs were wrapped tightly around his body, my hands upon his broad, thick shoulders. As he thrust deeper into me, I moved my hands and quickly dug my nails into his back as I cried out. He sucked in a breath of air but continued to fuck me harder and faster.

With every thrust, I met his body. He kissed me long and hard, his breath hot and heavy against me as sweat dripped from his forehead. We were a hot, sweaty mess, and I didn’t care. Nothing else mattered in that moment but the feeling of his cock deep inside, moving in and out of me.

I moaned and groaned as he started to thrust himself faster, burying himself with such force, I could feel him pressing up against the deepest parts of me. I cried out and bit my lip, wishing the pleasure would never end.

“Look at me,” he demanded, pulling my hair back so I was forced to look him in the eye. He seemed to like the fact that I stared at him as he fucked me. “You are so fucking amazing.”

His lips claimed mine once more and his body tensed as a wave of pleasure rolled over both of us. He thrust even deeper, more urgent to possess my body, and I clung tighter to his shoulders, my nails in his back. He winced and gasped as I dug into his flesh, but then he moaned in pleasure, swiveling his hips to hit my sweet spot. Fuck me, this man was working my body over like no man ever had before. As he pounded himself into me harder and faster, I thrust my body up to meet him, desperate to keep us joined together as much as possible.

I couldn’t speak. My ability of speech seemed to have been completely stripped away. I opened my mouth to say something, but all that came out was his name, over and over again, “Ian, oh God, Ian.” I could tell I was getting close–oh, so close to climaxing. My pussy tightened up and squeezed his cock tight. The added pressure caused him to throw his head back in delight, a deep, animalistic grunt coming from his throat.

“If you keep that up, I won’t last much longer,” he challenged, his breath coming out ragged.

“Fuck me harder, Ian, please!” I pleaded between gasps and groans of my own.

His fingers softly caressed my clit as he fucked me, which was a flagrant contradiction to his controlled, powerful thrusts—hard and deep with each flex of his hips. He stared deep into my eyes, a lustful smile playing upon his lips.

“Come, Ava. Come for me, sweetheart,” he demanded, kissing me deeply. “I want to feel you come hard for me. I want to make you feel so fucking good.”

And he was. Oh God, he was.

My mewls and pleas for release were driving him crazy, bringing him to the brink. His breathing was becoming ragged and labored. His groans grew louder, and he couldn’t fight to maintain his rhythm. Ian pivoted his hips faster, with more determination, his body desperate for mine and mine desperate for his. And I knew he was close—so close. Both of our bodies were begging for release.

“Oh God,” I cried out, thrusting my body up toward his, my nails ripping into his flesh.

His clasped his hand beneath my head, his face just inches from mine as he dragged my lip between his teeth and bit down, pounding my aching pussy relentlessly. I shuddered and shivered, my pussy clenching around his cock tighter and tighter as my body rushed toward release.

“Oh god, Ian. I’m–” But I never got my words out. Instead, they came out a garbled scream as pleasure rushed through my entire body, sending me to a place where words didn’t even exist.

And Ian was there, too. His jaw was clenched and his eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed and a look of absolute ecstasy on his face as he thrust himself into me one last time. I knew he was coming, and together, we rode out the pleasure, my hands clawing against his flesh just to get closer, as if it were even possible.

When at last, his seed was as spent as his energy, Ian’s body fell against mine and he let out a deep, satisfied breath. He kissed me long and hard, holding my face in his hands as he looked deep into my eyes.

“I think—” he started, then his forehead fell to mine. “Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart. What are ya doin’ to me?” he asked, his voice strained with emotion and… uncertainty?

His mesmerizing blue eyes held me captive, and in that moment, I wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Was it the adrenaline of the undeniable release we just shared, or was there something more? The rational part of me was immediately concerned that I was treading in unsafe waters. I knew the dangers I risked with Ian, but I couldn’t deny that I wanted to see just how far I could push him, even if I’d take the risk of drowning before I came back up for air.