Blind Date (2 page)

His eyes flash with a hint of desire. “You know, I find myself not hungry at all. Shall we move this conversation into the bar?”

“Great idea,” I say, grabbing my wine glass, then my purse from the back of the chair.

He lifts his hand, waves, and a server appears as if by magic. “Can you have this wine bottle moved through to booth one and have my usual on the table? Thank you.”

I raise one eyebrow as he stands, the server smoothly removing the wine bucket from the table and heading out through a door. Hell, I didn’t even know this restaurant had a separate bar area, never mind booths.

Carter holds out his hand, his fingers stretched toward me. “Shall we?”

Ignoring my best friend’s eyes on me, I place my smaller hand in his and stand. “You seem to know this place well,” I comment casually, taking a step in front of him.

His hand finds its way to the small of my back, and he leans in so his lips brush my ear. His breath coasts across my cheek in a thick swath of warmth. “Bee, I own this restaurant.”

“And I’m assuming it was your intention to bring every date to it,” I say dryly.

“On the contrary, I do my best to avoid dates and my business. However, I was tied to this by my buddy’s insistence of having this, and his date’s insistence on it being a double. My restaurant was, naturally, the only one that could free two tables at such short notice.”

Ah. I knew Charley was a dirty liar. Her date just happened to have a single friend my ass. “How very convenient for you.”

“Is it? Does the fact I own this building bother you?”

“Why would it? All I know about you is that your name is Carter Hughes, you want to get me drunk because it isn’t too early for sex, and you own this fine establishment.” I turn so I’m walking backward, and careful of my glass, grasp the lapel of his jacket. “Honey, I won’t remember your name tomorrow morning, let alone the rest of that. So, no, you can say it doesn’t bother me at all.”

We move into a seating area that’s darker than the restaurant. The only lighting is really from the bar area. It’s all black marble and black leather seating here, from the stools lining up along the glass bar to the cushioned booth seating. And it’s all couples—two people to a booth, despite the fact each one could easily sit six. Each one is curtained, too. Translucent black curtains cover the openings, and Carter tightens his grip on me as he reaches for one of them.

“Take a seat,” he breathes into my ear.

Okay.

I slip past him and drop myself on the seat. “This is… different.”

“The bar area is… exclusive,” he explains, slowly. “It’s invite only. Otherwise no one would be able to get a booth.”

“And this one? Is yours?” I look around it. There’s a tiny light on the wall, casting an eerily sensual feeling across the small area. The circular table in front of me is just big enough to hold two plates of food, a wine bucket, and a glass or two.

I get the feeling not much eating happens here, though. Unless that eating happens to be a pussy or a cock.

My clit throbs. Is this why he brought me here?

Of course it is, Bee. It’s why you came, you stupid bitch.

“Always,” Carter finally answers my question. He pulls the wine bottle from the bucket, shakes it lightly, then tops up my glass. The ice clinks as he replaces the bottle and reaches for his small tumbler full of amber liquid. It looks like liquid gold in this light. “There are ten booths. Next to you could be a Hollywood sweetheart, a billionaire, a world-famous model… Who knows? I don’t even know. It’s not my business to know.”

“It’s not your business to know about your business?” My lips tug into a small smirk.

His eyes seem to glow as he focuses on me. “I have my own perks within my business. I wouldn’t have brought you back here if I didn’t think you weren’t interested in them.”

I cross one leg over the other, grab my glass, and lean back. “Tell me—what are your perks, Mr. Hughes?”

He flexes his finger against his glass and brings it upward. “My perk,
Ms. Donnelly,
is wondering how many times I can make you come before I fuck you.”

Heat sizzles through my bloodstream, and goosebumps cover my skin in the silence that follows his words.

Holy. Shit.

That’s forward.

And tempting. Oh so goddamn, motherfucking tempting.

“That’s awfully presumptuous,” I manage to rasp out. I take a quick gulp of wine to wet my throat. “Don’t you think?”

“I’m a presumptuous guy.” He shrugs a shoulder, unaffected.

Of course. “What makes you think you’re going to find out?”

He moves his gaze over me slowly, his eyes darkening with every inch of my skin they touch. My heartbeat picks up until it’s thundering against my ribs and I can feel the beat at every pulse point in my body. There’s a tightening sensation in my stomach that seems to be dropping and resting deep in my pussy, and I’m clenching my muscles, and I wish that awkward ache in my clit would disappear, because I kind of want to jump Carter’s bones right now.

He chuckles, the sound dark and husky, and sets his glass on the table after one final drink. “Oh, Bee.” He skirts across the seat toward me, and I take a deep breath when he reaches up and loosens his tie. “I know I’m going to find out,” he says just as darkly as he just laughed. “Look at you. You’re breathing erratically.” He runs his finger across my collarbone and glances toward the table. “Your hand is trembling where you’re holding your glass, and you keep licking those gorgeous lips of yours.” He trails his hand up my neck. “Not to mention your eyes—they’re wide, and your cheeks are flushed.” He cups my jaw and runs his thumb along the side of it, right down to my mouth. The tip of his thumb ghosts along the soft curve of my lower lip. He’s barely touching me, but it feels as though my mouth is on fire.

He leans in, the tip of his nose only just hovering in front of mine, and he exhales slowly. His breath cascades across my mouth, and I breathe in sharply at the hot burst of air that caresses my lips.

Oh, Jesus.

“Are you wondering yet?” he whispers. “Tell me, Bee. Are you wondering how many times I could make you come? How I’d do it? I am. All I’m thinking about right now is lifting the bottom of your dress, sliding your underwear to the side and fucking you with my fingers until you bite down on my shoulder with pleasure.”

Another burst of heat is making its way through my body. I clamp my thighs together as he drops one hand and draws a trail across my left leg with the tips of his fingers. “I’m thinking that I should leave,” I lie.

“No you’re not.” He smiles and spreads his hand across my thigh. I fight to keep my muscles clenched and ultimately lose. Carter inches his hand up my leg until his fingers tease the hem of my dress and his thumb pushes between my legs. He squeezes my thigh, and unbidden, my legs creep open.

I breathe faster with anticipation, each one harder and more desperate as his hand continues its journey upward.  I drop my head back as he finally reaches the very top of my thigh. His thumb brushes across my panties, and I don’t know if the gentle flick across my clit is deliberate or coincidental, but I shudder.

He drops his face into my neck, repeating that flick. Yeah—that was deliberate. And I hate how good it feels. He smiles against my skin, pushing down hard. The lace of my panties rubs against the sensitive spot roughly, but it only adds to the pleasure, the crazy, intense, burst of pleasure that ricochets as he circles my clit with his thumb.

Oh, God. I’m such a slut. I’ve barely known this man thirty minutes and he’s just slid two of his fingers inside me.

He groans, the sound muffled by my collarbone. “You’re so fucking wet, Bee. Still gonna lie and tell me you think you should leave?”

I open my mouth to respond as he pumps his fingers inside me, but nothing comes out. Instead, I swallow and nod, even as my hips move against his hand.

Greedy pussy. Bad pussy.

I am so grounding her tomorrow morning.

Carter slips his thumb under my panties until it touches my bare clit. His fingers still for the barest second as he finds the sweet spot and settles there, ready to move again. Blood is pumping through my body at lightning speed, and my fingers are wrapped in his jacket, and I’m grasping the seat, digging my nails into the leather as he moves his hand again. My legs are opening wider with each thrust of his fingers into me. His lips skirt their way across my neck, up to my ear and back down, kissing, nibbling, brushing… It’s a sensory overload.

With one final rub of my clit, he pushes me over the edge.

Orgasm one.

I moan, and he covers my mouth with his hand, still moving the other against me. I ride the orgasm out against his hand, trembles of the aftershocks of it going through my body. “Holy shit,” I whisper, the words leaving me on a whoosh. The man hasn’t even kissed me. At least, not on my mouth.

I’ve never been turned on so easily in my life.

Carter pulls his fingers out of my pussy and grasps my hip. His grip is tight, and when he pulls me toward him, I move onto my side. I unclip the button of his jacket, and looking down at his stomach, flatten my hand against the toned surface of his body. Damn that crisp white shirt stopping me from touching his skin. Abs just aren’t the fucking same when they’ve got a damn row of buttons running down the middle of them.

Carter wraps one hand around the back of my neck and pulls my face into him. “God, Bee. You get wet so easily, don’t you? Is that how you keep your one-nighters going? With your wet pussy?” He leans in so his fingers dig into my pulse point. “How long do you last?” he asks quietly. “One?
Two? Three? Tell me, love. How many times can you come before it’s too much? Before you say enough is enough?”

“Once.” I rasp out the word, gripping his shirt tightly.

“You’re a liar,” he replies, just as breathily. He palms my ass cheek, his movements slow and calculated. I hold my breath in anticipation of the sting I know is coming.

It does.

Sharp and quick, Carter’s palm connects with my ass cheek, and I buck my hips against him.

“Fuck,” I moan, gripping his shirt tighter.

He laughs. Low and rich, each sound coasts over my skin until all I can hear is that deep rumble of his amusement.  “Sounds like a good fuck.” He does it again, and this time, I arch my back. “Damn. You’re so fuckin’ responsive, aren’t you?”

“You’ve barely touched me,” I point out. I reach up and grasp the top button of his shirt, my eyes on his the whole time. “See how responsive I am when you actually try.”

Once again, he laughs. His grip on my tender ass gets rough, and he seems to relish the way I grasp his shirt as if I want to rip it off. ‘Cause, fuck. I do. I want to rip off this goddamn useless piece of white fucking fabric until his obviously toned torso is clear to me and ready for me to explore with whichever part of my body I deem fit.

Ah, fuck it.

I undo the top button, then another, and another, and another. My fingers travel down nimbly until every one of the little white buttons are undone and only the very bottom of his shirt is tucked into his waistband. I run my teeth across my bottom lip, deliberately pulling tightly on the soft flesh. His grip does nothing but tighten, so I move, hooking one leg over his lap until I’m straddling him.

I can feel his rock-hard cock pushing against my already wet pussy, and fuck me. That’s one hell of a cock.

I rock my hips against him, and when a small groan leaves him, I smile. I’ll take it. I take whatever inch of pleasure I can, given that he just sucked it from me. No arguments here, but damn.

Maybe Carter Hughes needs a taste of his own medicine.

My lips quirk to one side at the prospect.

I’ve barely known him an hour, but I want to see what he can do with his cock when it’s compromised by a chick’s mouth.

I lean back, drop my hands to his belt, and pause when his hover against me.

“Server,” he murmurs, curling his arm around me and pulling me into him. I turn my face a fraction toward the curtains. The server is standing there, her eyes trained on the area above his head.

“Same again,” he replies, holding me where I am until the woman has left again. The second the curtains close, he twines my hair around his fingers and tugs me face toward his so tightly that my breath catches. “You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you? Baby, my cock is hard for you. Feel it.” He takes my hand and pushes it onto his erection. “If you’re gonna suck it, get your mouth the fuck down there and suck it before that bitch comes back with our drinks.”

Holy. Did he really just refer to a member of his staff as a bitch?

He did.

He did.

Oh my God.

I shouldn’t do this. I should run like fuck. But, damn. I wanna know what that sweet, hard cock tastes like, even if it’s only just one taste. I want to know what it’s like to have his pleasure pulsing against my tongue…. What it’s like to have this powerful man entirely at my mercy.

So I do it.

I push the table away from us the smallest amount and grab his undone pants. My fingers curl around each side and I tug them down until he lifts his ass and his sharp, black pants slide down his muscular thighs easily.

“Bee…” he warns, his hands both sliding up my back to the back of my head.

“Carter,” I murmur, grabbing the waistband of his boxer briefs, taking the barest moment to appreciate the way his hardened cock is pushing against the thin fabric of his underwear. It’s like a fucking oil painting, worthy of being hung in any art museum.

He tenses as I tug down his boxers and his cock springs free, long, hard, and thick, with a vein pulsing along its side.

I grin.

Time to play.

I close my mouth around the head of his cock, touching the tip of my tongue to it. He groans and twines his hand in my hair, tugging lightly. His restraint is obvious. Wrapping my fingers around the bottom of his cock, I give him a gentle squeeze as I take him in my mouth fully.

His grip on my hair tightens as I work him with both my mouth and my hand. He grows even harder in my mouth, and as I run my tongue over that one vein, I can feel it pulsing.

God, he really does have a wonderful cock.

My pussy is throbbing at the thought of having it inside me. It’s almost tempting to stop this and climb on top of him.

“Your drinks, sir.”

Carter holds my head still, his cock buried in my mouth. “On the table,” he demands.

I massage the very tip of it with my tongue, and his hips jerk into me.

“Today,” he grinds out as I reach down to cup his balls. I lightly drag my nails over them. “Don’t disturb us again.”

Two beats pass with the swish of a curtain before he grasps my hair so tightly that my scalp stings. He yanks my head up and meets my eyes. His gaze is dark and stormy, and it sends thrills of desire through me.

“You.” It’s a growl—deep, rich, primitive.

It’s all he says as he grabs me and throws me back onto the chair, thankfully releasing my hair. Without another word, he undoes his tie and whips it off before leaning over me, the satin strip crunched into a ball in his fist.

Only now does he speak. “Your hands. Above your head.” When I don’t move, he leans down. “Now, Bee.”

I raise an eyebrow and stare at him in defiance.
You want ‘em there, you put ‘em there
.

“My way it is then,” he murmurs, taking my wrists in each hand and slamming them against the seat over my head. He holds them in place with one hand while he unravels his tie.

I inhale sharply as he wraps it around my wrists and secures it, the silky knot tight and unmovable. I know because I try to free my hands. Carter stops my effort with a simple yet hard squeeze.

“Keep them there,” he breathes, running his eyes over my face. “Yes?”

“Yes.” I part my lips in an effort to steady my breathing.

My body is on fire. My legs are trembling with the anticipation of what he’s planning to do to me, and although this feels so right, I have to admit that I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing here. This is a new one, even for me.

Clearly the universe has decided that my one night stands need spicing up. Methinks the universe has been reading too many erotic novels.

Carter holds my gaze for a moment longer. He sits up, moving his hands to his shirt buttons. My chest heaves as I watch him undo each button and pull the fabric apart, revealing a toned torso from his pecs right down to the ‘v’ that leads to his erect cock. I run my eyes over the fine male form before me, and my fingers twitch with the urge to touch him. To trail my fingertips over every pack of muscle and inside each shadowed furrow.

He keeps his shirt on, just open, his eyes back on me, as he slides back a couple of inches. “Feet on the chair. Legs open. Let me see that pussy.”

Blunt. To the point. I like it.

I do as he says, my clit aching at his words.
Gladly, Mr. Hughes.
I open my legs a little wider than necessary, and he reaches forward and grabs my ankle. He lifts it and rests it on the back of the seat, and I shift so it’s more comfortable, making sure to keep my hands above my head like I promised.

Like he ordered, rather.

His green eyes drop from my face to my exposed pussy, and he bends forward. One of his fingers trails up the inside of my thigh, his touch feather-light, and I shiver.

Then he drops right down, splays his hands on the insides of my upper thighs, holds my legs firmly open, and closes his mouth over my pussy. He puts extra pressure on my clit, and I arch my back as a bolt of pleasure shoots through me. Good fucking God. His tongue is rough as it rubs over my most sensitive spot, and I cry out as the hint of an orgasm quivers through me.

Carter gets up and leans over me, and his cock teases the opening of my pussy before it settles over my clit. It only makes me squirm more. “Hush,” he admonishes me. “No one here will know that you’re coming except me. Your pleasure is mine and only mine. Understood?”

I suck my lower lip into my mouth and nod my response. How do you have an orgasm without screaming to the high heavens?

“Good girl,” he murmurs, finally touching his lips to mine.

I can taste myself on his tongue. Tangy and vile, the taste of my pussy coats my lips from his. It’s a brief touch, but it’s deep. I rock my hips so his cock ghosts over my clit again and again, and I could totally get myself off by doing this. But it’s tempting to lift my hips and—

His palm connects with the side of my ass in a sharp slap that makes me gasp. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready. By the time I do, you’ll be begging me.” He runs his lips down my neck. “How greedy is your pussy, Bee?” His hand slips between us. He grasps his cock and rubs it against my clit in slow, teasing circles. “How badly does it want my cock? What if I just slid it down like this and let it have a tiny bit? Would that make you happy?”

He does exactly what he said. The tip of his cock pushes inside my pussy, and I throw my head back. My arms bend as my whole body arches into him, desperate for the rest of him.

“Please,” I breathe.

“Like this?” He pushes into me fully and I swear angels fucking sing.

“Oh god,” I whisper, clenching around him.

I feel so full right now, and I swear, if he doesn’t move and fuck me properly, I’m going to drop to my knees and plead. Or get up out of here and finish myself off with my vibrator at home.

Carter chuckles, and it’s dark, but my skin tingles at the sound anyway. He withdraws from me in one smooth, swift movement, and immediately drops back to the position he was in just moments ago. Once again, he forces my legs open and covers my pussy with his mouth. His tongue attacks my clitoris. His moves are quick and harsh, each touch purposeful and meant to punish as well as pleasure.

I writhe on the seat, my legs trembling, as he licks the small bundle of throbbing nerves. Each bolt of happy desire that floods right through me, pounding through my bloodstream, is a teasing reminder of the pleasure that awaits me if he follows through on this orgasm.

And, hell. I hope he does.

He licks me unashamedly, devouring every inch of my aching core. My pussy muscles tense and relax as if he’s still inside me, and if it weren’t for the way he slides his fingers into me, I’d be able to imagine that he is. Instead, it’s real. So fucking real.

Sparks erupt across my body as he lifts my legs high and opens them wider until it’s almost painful for me. Fortunately, the pleasure he’s creating with just the tip of his tongue and two of his fingers pumping inside of me far outweighs it. My arms ache with the desire to reach down and twine my fingers into his hair, to hold his face against me until I’ve come again and again and again, but the tie that strains when I try reminds me that I can’t.

That I agreed to this. To be partially bound and therefore much more vulnerable to him than I would be otherwise.

And I agreed. God, why did I agree?

The orgasm hits me blindingly, and I shiver, arching my back, clenching my legs, fisting my hands, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the moan inside. I want to cry out, I want to scream. I want to tell the world that a thousand fireworks just erupted inside me.

But I can’t. So I don’t. I just lie here, biting my tongue, my lip, my cheek, breathing harshly until the initial wave of pleasure has passed and I’m nothing more than a puddle of person on the chair.

So. That’s why I agreed.

Carter stands, slaps my legs together with a squeeze of my ass, and moves over me. Not his body, though. No—he moves his pelvis over me until his cock is brushing against my lips. Unconsciously, my mouth opens, and he pushes it into my mouth.