The Wicked Pleasures Bundle (Wicked Pleasures: Volume 1/Wicked Pleasures: Volume 2/Wicked Pleasures: Volume 3) (6 page)

The touch of her tongue in my mouth is arousing.  I don’t want to think anymore—my body is on fire, and I want more of this decadent sweetness.  I am burning from the inside out.

I am not even aware of raising my arms as I slide them around her neck, to cradle her head as my tongue reaches out for hers.  I am lost.

I put my hands on her legs, lifting her I swing her around so that she is astride me, her skirt up high around her thighs, as I press her against my erection, pressing that damp, aching part of her against my hardness, and she makes a soft, moaning sound as I rub against her.  My hand slides down beneath her skirt, touching her, and she pushes her pussy against my hand, my arm holds her fast, and in truth I know she doesn’t want to escape.  She wants my hands on her dampness, my long fingers parting the slick folds of her body, and when my thumb brushes against her clit she jerks and a rush of pleasure washes through me.

She stops me.

My eyes narrow slits in the dark limo, and I can feel my heart pounding against her, my breath slightly labored.  “You don’t want me to stop.  You’re wet.  Even in this heated car your nipples are hard.  And you kissed me back.  Your tongue was in my mouth.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”  She leans forward biting my neck.  “I want you to fuck me.”

I stare down into her face and brush my palm up her spine.  She curls her fists into the front of my shirt.  “Now.”

“Yes, Miss George.”  I lower my mouth to hers, my fingers plow through the sides of her hair, brushing it back from her face and lifting it from her shoulders.  I hold her face in my palms, tilting her head back, and taking advantage of her parted lips.  My tongue sweeps into her mouth, warm and slick, instantly possessive and consuming. 

She runs her hands down my shirt, then back up again.  I feel my muscles bunch, responding to her touch, the overwhelming arousal.

She wraps her arms around my neck and one of my hands slide to the small of her back and bring her closer.  The ridge of my erection presses into the crease of her thighs and pelvis, and the kiss immediately turns hotter, wetter.  With our mouths and tongues, both of us feed the desire running through our veins that threatens to consume us. 

The kiss burns hot and intense, arching my hips to grind my hard cock against her.  The erotic rhythm draws a deep groan from my chest and leaves me aching for more.

I slide my moist mouth to the side of her throat, and she leans hers to one side to give me better access.  The tip of my tongue touches her ear, then I work my way to the base of her throat and pause to suck the sensitive flesh in the hallow as one of my hands unbuttons her shirt all the way, I peel her shirt from her shoulders, down her arms, to her elbows.  I kiss a warm path across her collarbone.  Then I find her breast.  Her nipple instantly hardens in my palm. 

“Miss George,” I whisper against her neck.

“Call me Nicole.”  She raises my head.

I looked into her eyes.  “Nicole,” I whisper.

She grips my head and brings my lips back to hers. 

My hand tightens possessively on her breast and then relaxes.  I brush my palm across her nipple. 

God, she is so much more than I could have ever imagined.  Her straight-laced buttoned up persona is all a façade. 

“That first day, I thought you were sexy as hell.”  She moves her hands to the front of my shirt and pushes it apart.  She combs her fingers through the short fine hair on my chest, her other palm skimming the hard muscles of my stomach following the trail of hair that disappears into the waistband of my trousers.  She stares as if fascinated by what she is looking at and what she is touching.

I smile as she glances up at me.  The tips of her fingers brush the bare skin of my stomach and heat pools in my groin causing my cock to press painfully against the confines of my trousers, especially when she runs her hand up the taut flesh of my arms, over my shoulder, to the side of my neck.  She slips her fingers back through my hair and I groan into her mouth as she works her hands down, unbuckles my belt, releases the button and shoves her hand beneath my underwear and closes her fist around my cock. 

The air whooshes from my lungs, as she caresses her hand up and down my long, hard length.  She takes the plump head of my cock in her hand.  She squeezes and a low groan sounds deep in my chest. 

My mouth opens wide over hers, and she tastes of passion, hot and vibrant on my tongue. 

She rises to her knees lifting her skirt and slides down her panties.  “Fuck me, Brady.”

I lift myself and hook my thumbs beneath the waistband of my jeans and underwear.  Ripping them down my thighs, revealing first the black hair that grows thicker low on my belly, then my erection juts free, huge and powerful.  I take myself into my hand as my heated gaze moves over her.  Smearing the pearlescent drop of pre-cum around the tip before sliding it erotically back and forth along her cleft, over and over, I draw the thick length of my erection up and down through her wetness until her breathing speeds up.   I shift my hips, and let my hard cock ease between her thighs.  Her folds warm and slick with her own juices.  I now slide back and forth through the wet heat as my breath becomes faster and rougher.  I prod at her wet, silky opening.

Greedily she takes my erection into her hand.  She weighs the weight of it, savors the warm, satiny length of me, tips back her head, and impales herself onto me with a sigh.  I rock my hips up and down a little, and feel her shiver.  “Ride me, Nicole,” I choke.  “Take all of me.”  My hand slides from her waist down her thighs.  My fingers are hard against her skin. 

And she does.  When she rises up again, I tighten my grip on her legs, my head going back into the cushion until the tendons of my neck draw taut.

She gasps and lets her head go back.  I feel her body grow accustom to my invasion.  She lifts her hips then pushes down against me. 

I groan with pleasure, and bury myself in her again
as I draw in a breath and thrust up to meet her with a guttural cry. 

Slowly our rhythm builds, my hips rock against hers,
her breathy sighs increase.  Over and over I pump myself into her.  Her snug, sweet body pulls at me, drawing me deeper. 

I feel the urgency in her build, feeling the rhythm moving through us.  Soon she is crying out with breathless sobs on my every stroke. 

She cries out as my mouth comes down over her breast.  Greedily I lave her, then pull and suck at her nipple.  With a flick of my tongue, I lightly lick the tip of her nipple, making her rise up on a gasp. 

She mutters something, barely audible. 

“What?” I rasp, lifting my mouth from her sweet flesh.             

“Oh—ah—yes—that—“
Her hips come up, seeking more.  Her hands fist tightly in my shirt as she rides me hungrily, lifting herself up and easing back down my length. 

“God, you feel incredible.  So hot.”  I watch as the lust and need play across her beautiful face.  For what could have been minutes but might have been hours, our lusty sounds fill the darkness until her sighs come faster and more frantically.  She closes her eyes, and leans forward to splay her hands across my chest.  Her hair, already loose, fanned over her shoulders, caressing my skin.

The scent of sweat and sex swirls around us in a heady, sensual haze. 

Her whole body seizes, as she goes rigid in my arms, then shudders.  And then she comes apart, her cries of pleasure, loud in the quiet of the limo.  Her orgasm puts me over the edge.  I drive in; my hips pump faster and harder, then on one final thrust and feel myself exploding inside her.  The limo fades to black as I throb and pulse, clasping her tight against me.

“Fuck.”  I laugh.  “Where’s your next signing?”

LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON

I can feel him looking across the room at me; as I stand still and straight, my oversized sweatshirt is in no way camouflaging the curvy lines of my body.  It’s taking quite a bit of effort as I finally lift my gaze to his face and fix it there. 

“Why are you so worried?”

I frown.  “They’re firing everyone at work, Brandon.”

I can see him thinking about it.  “So?”

“You don’t seem to understand”—I make a sweeping gesture—“I cannot afford to be jobless.”

“Kayla, I know that you’re worried, but you haven’t been fired yet.”  Easing up, he relaxes against the couches raised back.  “You haven’t even been threatened with being terminated.  You’re one of the best copy editors they have.”

A sound suddenly escapes from me that suspiciously sounds like a snort.  Folding my arms as I lean back against the window frame, I study him.  “Well, I hope they feel the same as you do.”  I chuckle. 

Inclining his head.  “I’m sure they do.”

I nod determinedly.  “Hopefully.”  I walk back to the couch.  “That’s why I need to go back to the office, to get some more work done.”  Pausing beside the couch, by his side, I look down at him, into his eyes.  “You understand.”

Watching as Brandon’s face begins to harden he reaches out for my hand.  “I understand why you feel as you do.”  But instead of letting me go, he yanks me down to the couch, down into his arms, drawing me to him and kissing me, crushing my mouth with his.  Readily, I put aside our discussion and respond, enthusiastically and eagerly to experience more.

He is right; I realize that they haven’t threatened me as of yet.  This being the case, there really isn’t any reason for me to return to the office.  But…there are other issues to consider, such as whether, no matter how persuasive he is, will I decide to remain with him for the rest of the day.

That, however, doesn’t have to be decided right now.  This afternoon…I will follow his lead, set the matter aside, and devote myself to more immediate issues, much more pleasurable ones.

Drawing me to him, he devotes himself to conquering me. 

This, at least, is what I hope his intention is, as he tenses up he rolls me beneath him, I pull back from our kiss.  Pushing back; planting my hands on his chest, I brace my arms as I rise above him in the deepening dark.  “I don’t want to think anymore.” My mouth swollen, my breath coming in ragged puffs of air.

He’s already parted my long legs and drawn my knees high, has already caressed the swollen flesh between my thighs to slick readiness, so as I push back I am straddling his abdomen, and my musky scent swirls around us …I am already aching, tense with the expectation of him sinking his throbbing cock into my welcoming heat.

Having to catch my breath, I clench my jaw holding my breath for a moment, only long enough to discover what my new task will be.  Deciding whether or not I am going to permit him to take control, or not.

Upright, I sink down, my well-toned thighs, golden brown against his even darker skin, gripping his sides, my calves tucking along his flanks as I settle astride him.  My gaze locks on his chest.  I press my hands, fingers spread, across, sweeping from the center outward, tracing the wide muscled bands, then sweeping farther, over his shoulders and along and down his arms; I follow them to his wrists and lock my fingers  around them.

Lifting both wrists, I raise them, leaning forward, and press them back until his hands are pressing against the soft cushion of the upper edge of the couch.

“Keep your hands there.” I issue the order, not even bothering to look and see if he obeys.  Releasing his hands, I return my attention to his magnificent chest.

I can only imagine the intense look that must be etched on my face, intent, focused yet still considering, still planning.  I watch as his palms curl over the cushions.

“Don’t move them unless I give you permission.”  I suppress a smirk at my commanding tone; pleased with how in control I sound.  But I know he’s kept his hands off me for exactly as long as he wants and not a second longer.

Lifting my gaze to his eyes; decision clearly now made, my plan defined, I lean forward, my hands on his chest once more,
fingertips sinking in as I press close, and kiss him.  Covering his lips then, as he parts them, sweeping my tongue into his mouth, sucking on his tongue.  Exploring, learning…he relaxes beneath me, remaining passive, letting me lead as I desire.

Letting me take from him what I want, letting me give whatever I wished in return.

He still remains unresponsive beneath the heated sweetness of my kiss, the increasingly definite demands of my lips and my tongue. 

Not being appeased; the kiss turns sultry, not just siren-like but bewitching, in an attempt to call forth the beast in him.  I grind against him, the sweet friction of my wet pussy against the raspy hair covering his chest and abdomen is more than enough.  I deliberately taunt until the less-than-civilized male finally shook free of the shackles he’d set and roars forth to do sensual battle with me…

This is what I wanted.

He finally responds, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me hard to him.  In that instant he thrusts greedily into my mouth, I sense his satisfaction.  A satisfaction that blooms, that patently thrills me as I shift and close both hands around his face, rising above him, holding him steady as I meet him in a glorious exchange—of heat, of fire, of promise.

The battle continues until we burn, flames crackle, the very air about us seems to spark.

Abruptly, I pull away, looking down on him with dark eyes glowing with passion.  We are both heated, both wanting, our breaths coming hard and fast.

Slowly, I look down at his chest.  Then as I draw in a deep breath—my breasts swell—and I edge back, still straddling him.  Pushing his jaw up, I tilt my head to set my lips to his throat.  Kissing, licking, laving.  I Set my teeth to his steely tendons and graze.

Sensations and need swamp me.  His eyes close, his hands lock about the cushion above his head and endure…my touch, my ministrations, all the while burningly conscious of my body, all flushed skin and wet heat, supple and strong, not touching except where my thighs and calves grip his flanks, instead hovering, the ultimate temptation, mere inches above his rigid flesh.

It is all I can do to lock my jaw and survive.  I am thorough, yet I don’t dally; I work my way steadily down his throat, paying attention to the indention between his collarbone, pausing briefly to lave, then close my mouth over the pulse raging at the base of his throat and suck, before shifting lower.

On his chest my fingers sweep through the crinkly hair adorning it, then curl, lightly tugging.  He cracks open his lids, but finds I don’t want his attention; I am busy examining., then setting my mouth to one flat nipple.  My tongue flicks, then my teeth gently close, tightening…I can feel him suck in a deep breath. 

Eyes closed, he gives out a low moan.

But I am far, far from finished.

As I refuse to hold back, the inevitable rise of passion, a hunger that, once it hits in full force, cannot be denied.  I can feel it rise in him, too, feeling the escalating flames in the increasingly trembling muscles of his stomach and the harsh intake of his breath. 

Exploring his navel, my tongue makes lazy circles around and around and then I dip my tongue into it, probing and flicking to my satisfaction, my lips slide lower, tracing the line of hair that leads to his groin, and I can feel him exhale.  Sometime during my exploring, I’d scooted down his thighs; I had his legs trapped between mine, under me.

His sharp intake of breath as I plant wet, open mouth kisses down his stomach is all the encouragement that I need.  As my hand slides around Brandon’s stiff cock, I feel it jumping beneath my palm.  I take the broad head of his cock into my mouth, staring up into his face, I swirl my tongue in slow circles, tasting the salty drop that beads the tip. 

He whimpers, every muscle frozen, tensed hard, further engorging the flesh I’d taken deep between my lips.

I curl my tongue and lick, sucking as my hand strokes his length.

He hauls in a breath and lets it out in a shuddering groan, rocking his hips against my mouth.  I can hear my guttural moans as his entire body tightens beneath mine; his fingers straighten from the wooden edge.

“Don’t move your hands.”

My words are sultry, low and heavy with feminine power.  I’d spoken over him; my breath adds another level of sensory as heat plays over his aching erection, he shivers under my touch.

I close my mouth about him again, sucking powerfully, deep-throating him as he presses his head into the cushion.  I may be considered rather innocent, yet I have a very good idea of what I am doing.

He focuses on this, clinging to the contradiction. 

As his body rises beneath my ministrations, as another, deeper, more heartfelt groan shudders through his chest.

I find his balls.  Rolling them, gently squeezing.  My other hand leaves his stomach, sliding down to close, firm and sure, about the base of his rigid length, to hold him while I minister with my mouth, my lips,
my tongue.

“Enough!”  He barely gets the word out.

Releasing the top of the couch, opening his eyes, he looks down as I release him and look up, one brow faintly arching, a look in my dark, blatantly provocative eyes that patently asks,
if you’re sure
.

He lowers his arms, reaching for me, but I come up on my knees, meeting his hands with mine, lacing my fingers with his and using his hold for balance as I shuffle upward, moving over him, still straddling him.

I can tell speech is beyond him, but with his hands, he directs me, pressing back on my hands as he wants me to ease my hips down…he watches the broad head of his erection touch, sliding against my swollen flesh, wetness spreads…I don’t know if I  can stand much more of this torture.

He clamps his hands about my hips, nudging upward and into me, then pressing me back, down…closing his eyes and groaning as my scalding, slick sheath takes him in, already soaking, as fire engulfs me, then closes around me, easing down, back, inch by inch filling me.  Tight. 

On a shuddering, strangled sigh, I open my eyes to meet his, dark and burning.

“I told you not to move your hands.”

“You need them now.”  His large, rough hands continue to knead my flesh, using his grip on my hips to raise me, then guiding me back.  In seconds, I catch onto the rhythm he starts, riding him on my own accord.  He is half-sitting, his shoulders raised, courtesy of the couch.  I am straddling him, my hands on his chest; I give him a perfect view, one I am sure he is drinking in.

As I start experimenting, I sink more deeply, stroking shallowly, grinding my hips against his, he sucks in a breath, lifting his gaze.

My breasts, sumptuous, swollen, all flushed satin skin and perfectly, furled nipples, rising and falling before his face.  His lips curve in his otherwise passion-locked face; dispensing with his now-redundant hold on my hips, he raises his hands to my sumptuous breasts.  Closing them around the lush mounds, kneading possessively, I gasp and feel my flaring in response.  

I set myself to pander to his heavily aroused senses, to drive him, to render him as mindless as me.  I rise and fall on him unceasingly, taking him deep, caressing him in long, frantic strokes.  Delicious heat spreads through me, sweat glistens over my skin

Rising, lifting his shoulders, he sets his mouth to my breasts and I hear my own muted shriek.  Remembering the screams he’d drawn from me the previous night.

He ministers to my breasts as I ride him steadily, unswervingly to ecstasy.  The action of his hard palm and strong fingers divert my attention, his fingers find my nipple, and roll it.  Drawing on it, tauntingly stroke, then closing his fingers and squeezing.  As he peaks the inevitable precipice looms, as I feel his body gather inexorably beneath me, he frees one hand and sends it skating, pressing hard and possessively down the front of my body, sliding over my hip to close briefly about my bottom and squeezes, then traces the line between thigh and hip forward and then down to the damp curls between my thighs.

The tight knot of flesh he searches for stands erect and begging beneath its hood.  He caresses my clit and I feel the immediate rush of my response.  Bending his head, he draws the peak of one breast deep, sucks strongly as he strokes and presses, as I rise and fall harder, faster…he thrusts deeper, harder, and deeper still.

I break apart and take him with me.  Head thrown back, my cries rise to the ceiling as he feasts on my breast, greedily suckling and licking my nipples as my body closes in tight contractions around his, while he groans and shudders beneath me, and surrenders.

To the power he arouses, to the power with which I respond.

The moment of ecstasy, of infinite pleasure, holds us locked in its ecstasy for an incalculable time…then leaves us, releases us.  Letting us fall from the heavens into sweet oblivion.

We collapse, sated, in a jumble of limbs.  I shift, eased.  He sinks back, closes his arms around me; I rest my head on his chest.  We remain laying still, aware, watchful, wondering, as the power slowly fades.