Читать книгу The Dare Collection January 2020 - Lauren Hawkeye, A.C. Arthur - Страница 16

MY HEART WAS jumping around behind my breastbone like a gymnast on a trampoline, a dim part of me wondering what the hell I was doing.

Seducing him hadn’t seemed like that big a deal when I’d first decided on it, but now I was on my knees in front of him, with the salty taste of his skin in my mouth and the hard ridge behind his zip staring me in the face...

Well.

It seemed like kind of a big deal now.

I’d followed my gut when he’d started asking questions, dropping my act and giving him the truth—or at least a bit of it. Letting him see a piece of the real me: the woman who wanted the sun, not the shadow. Yet still he’d asked questions about whether I was there to kill him or to rob him, so I’d had to do something.

Taking his thumb into my mouth had seemed like a good idea at the time, giving me some control over what was happening. But somehow—and I still didn’t know how he’d done it when I thought I’d been making progress—he’d taken charge of things again.

He was looking at me now, one pierced brow raised in arrogant challenge, a man supremely aware of his own beauty and his extensive sexual prowess.

Daring me to refuse. To say no and pull away.

But I couldn’t. I was used to being unnoticed, yet he was noticing me, his focus so intense it was as if he was memorising every inch of me.

It was intoxicating. Addictive. And I wanted more.

You can’t afford to have him notice you, not like that.

No, I couldn’t. Then again, the chances of him ever actually remembering me were remote to non-existent. Not me, with a face you wouldn’t look at twice in the street. Your average, every-day everywoman.

I could let myself have this moment, couldn’t I, where I felt like the centre of the world instead of not even being part of it?

I took a slow breath, then another, trying to get my heartbeat under control, but he smelled so good, spice cut through with musk, and it made me ache. While the heat of his body made me want to stretch out and warm myself against him.

Yes, I could have it. I wanted it, so I was going to take it.

I lifted my hand and took hold of the tab of his zip. Then I drew it down.

The glitter of his eyes intensified, and as I spread the fabric of his trousers, I felt the tension in his muscles gather.

‘Sugar...’ he murmured as I leaned back slightly, looking at what I’d uncovered: the black cotton of his boxers stretched over the ridge of his very hard cock.

I certainly wasn’t an expert but, whoa. He wasn’t small, was he?

And it was me who’d got him like that. Pretty good for an unremarkable foundling whom no one had wanted.

Don’t get ahead of yourself. He probably gets hard for any woman.

It was true, so I tried to ignore the satisfaction that filled me. Not that it mattered anyway.

His fingers brushed over my cheekbone, making me shiver, but I ignored the touch, refusing to let myself get derailed.

Turning my hand over, I stroked my knuckles down the length of his erection, feeling the heat of him through the fabric of his underwear. The muscles of his thighs tensed as I did so and my satisfaction deepened.

He might very well get hard for every woman, but right now that woman was me and, hell, I’d take it.

Dimly, the cool part of my brain tried to tell me that there had to be a better plan than kneeling in front of a complete stranger to give him a blow job just so I could steal a damn necklace.

But I didn’t listen. It wasn’t about the necklace any more. It wasn’t even about distracting him so I could get away.

It was about the unfamiliar pulsing ache between my thighs and the hunger for something I hadn’t even known I wanted.

Since Mr Chen had died six months earlier, I’d told myself I was fine with how isolating the business was. That I didn’t mind being alone. Yet right now, with Blackwood hot and hard beneath my hand, I knew that I did mind. And that I wanted more than the shadows I currently lived in. I wanted some time in the sun.

My breathing was getting faster, louder. He could probably hear it.

I leaned forward and this time I brushed my mouth over the black cotton, inhaling his musky, masculine scent and the heat of his body.

‘Jesus...’ His voice sounded rough, stripped of its charm. His fingers slid beneath my jaw, gripping me firmly, and I just knew he was going to pull me away.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

I lifted my hands and rested my palms on the steel of his thighs, nuzzling against him. His muscles went rigid and I heard his breath catch. So I did it again.

‘Holy shit,’ he said breathlessly. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My whole body felt as if it was going to freeze and shatter into pieces if I moved away. I needed this. I needed him.

So I leaned farther into his heat, lifting one hand and hooking my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging down the material.

Then it was my turn to catch my breath as I freed his cock.

Intellectually, I knew what a naked man looked like—I had a working Internet connection like most people—but looking something up online and seeing it in the flesh for the first time were two different things. And, as I was learning, that certainly applied to Damian Blackwood.

He was long, very thick and extremely hard.

He was also very pierced.

‘Oh, my God.’ I stared wide-eyed at the ring piercing the head of his cock. ‘Didn’t that hurt?’ Fascinated, I reached out, sliding a finger along his shaft to where the silver ring pierced him.

‘No.’ He sounded strangled, the muscles of his thighs like iron beneath my other hand.

‘But why?’ His skin was very hot and silky too. I touched him again, stroking him with my fingertips, and he made a rough, deep sound, his hand coming down to cover mine.

‘Because women like it. And so do I.’ He guided my fingers to the head of his cock. ‘It doesn’t hurt when you touch it either.’ The words were no longer smooth, but rough-edged.

He was liking what I was doing to him.

My mouth was dry and I swallowed, my own breathing coming faster as I stroked his velvety skin then cautiously touched the ring. Then, curious, I tugged gently on it.

He hissed, and I looked up sharply, worried for a second that I’d hurt him, despite what he’d told me.

Except it wasn’t pain that I saw as his gaze slammed into mine. Only a raw heat that stole the remaining breath from my body.

‘You want to suck me, then do it,’ he said roughly. ‘But you have to let me know now if you want the ring in or out.’

‘You can take it out?’

‘Yeah. If you want it in, don’t worry. I’ll be careful with your mouth. I know what I’m doing, okay?’

Of course. He’d probably done this a lot. But I didn’t need to think about what I wanted. I knew already.

I eased my fingers around his shaft, running my thumb up the underside of it, loving how he hissed again, muttering a curse under his breath. ‘Do you like it in?’ I asked. ‘Because I do.’

‘Then do it.’ His voice was harsh. ‘Suck me, Sugar.’

I didn’t need to be told. I wasn’t sure how to do this, but for the moment that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was hungry and I wanted to taste him. Wanted his heat inside me, chasing the shadows away.

So I tightened my grip and leaned in, touching my tongue to the head of his cock, licking him experimentally.

He made a deep sound of masculine approval, the tension in his body vibrating under my palms, so I did it again, tasting him. His flavour was rich and salty and suddenly I was starving for more.

I licked around the sensitive head, holding on tight, teasing the ring then playing a little with it, and he groaned.

It echoed through me, settling down between my thighs, making the hungry ache that pulsed there even worse. Because for once in my life I wasn’t hiding. I wasn’t passing by unnoticed.

I had his attention. I was right in the spotlight. And it made me feel brave.

So I lifted my gaze to his as I slid him deep into my mouth, sucking gently, wanting to see the expression on his face. It was tight, his features drawn in harsh lines, almost a snarl twisting his beautiful mouth. His gaze was electric and there was nothing of the charming storyteller I’d seen on the terrace in him at all now. This was nothing but raw, primal masculinity.

A shiver coursed through me, my sex throbbing.

If this was what a blow job was like every time, then I could get used it.

I held his gaze as I sucked him, watching pleasure blaze like a fire in his eyes, and he watched me in return, so intently it was as if he was trying to imprint me onto his memory.

A sliver of doubt crept under my skin, a bone-deep instinct murmuring that the way this man was looking at me could put my entire livelihood in danger.

But for once I couldn’t bring myself to care. I didn’t want to be like Mr Chen, dying alone, unnoticed and un-mourned by anyone except me. I wanted to have one person remember me, just one. To feel as though I’d been part of the world in some small way.

Blackwood lifted his hands. His long fingers were in my hair and I braced myself for him to hold on tight. But he didn’t. He simply pulled his fingers gently through my hair over and over, his hips beginning to move as I sucked.

‘Yes,’ he murmured, his voice hot, dark and rich, like melted chocolate. ‘Yes, Sugar. That’s so good.’

All thoughts of Mr Chen vanished. The note of heat in the words stroked down my spine like a touch, the ache between my legs intensifying. I gripped him tighter, sucking harder.

‘Fuck, yeah.’ He spread his fingers out, cradling my head, massaging my skull. ‘Love the way you’re doing that. Fucking unbelievable.’

Something shifted inside me at the praise, something vulnerable and needy. I sucked even harder, teasing the ring with my teeth, and he groaned, his hips moving faster, sliding his cock deeper.

His features were twisted in agonised pleasure and he still didn’t look away from me, his fingers firm on my scalp. He was looking at me as if he’d never seen anything like me before in his whole life. ‘You’re going to make me come, Sugar,’ he growled. ‘Is that what you want? Are you going to take everything I give you?’

I couldn’t do anything but nod, because I did. I wanted to make him come; I wanted the hot taste of him to scare away the dark.

And he was as good as his word; he was careful of me as he began to thrust harder, holding me steady. I gripped him tight with one hand, the other spread on his rock-hard thigh for balance, sucking hard as he gave one last deep thrust then came, a growling curse escaping him, his head going back, his hips shuddering.

I swallowed him down, thick and hot and salty, watching the tension in his face, the cords of his neck tight, his jaw rigid.

Because, if I wanted him to remember me, I wanted to remember him too. Damian Blackwood in my power, brought to the edge by little old me.

Don’t get too confident. Remember what you’re here to do.

Realisation washed through me, cold and unwelcome.

Oh, yes, that’s right. The necklace. No matter what I’d done to Blackwood, I still hadn’t finished here.

The silence had deepened around us, punctuated only by the faint thump of the music outside and the sound of his harsh breathing. The salty, masculine scent of his body surrounded me, underlain by that warm spice.

The ache between my thighs was hot, demanding.

Get up and run. Now. While he’s still recovering.

But my legs felt rubbery and his hand was still in my hair, stroking me, and I didn’t want to move. Besides, if I ran now, I wouldn’t get the necklace and not being able to fulfil a client’s request wouldn’t exactly help keep Mr Chen’s business afloat.

No, I needed to stay. Occupy Blackwood’s attention enough that he wouldn’t ask me awkward questions, then wait until he eventually went to sleep so I could have some time to look around without being interrupted.

He was leaning back against the window now, his eyes half-closed, his impressive chest rising and falling with his quickened breaths. His fingers were still moving in my hair, massaging my scalp gently, and it felt so good I didn’t want to move away.

I shut my eyes, leaning my forehead against his taut stomach, the tension in my muscles relaxing under the pressure of his fingers, even as a different kind of tension—the one situated between my thighs—got even tighter.

‘That was perfect,’ Blackwood murmured into the silence. ‘Fucking perfect. But I’m thinking I need to return the favour.’

Return the favour. Did that mean...?

Yes, of course that’s what it means.

I broke out in a sweat, a surge of adrenaline stealing my breath and putting my pulse into overdrive. I couldn’t tell if it was fear, excitement or a combination of the two. Probably a combo. Which shouldn’t work but somehow it did.

‘Well?’ he purred, his fingers gently massaging down the back of my neck, making me want to sigh in pure, sensual pleasure. ‘Would you like that, Sugar? Would you like me to put my mouth on you? Get you off the way you did for me?’

Another surge of adrenaline hit me, making me breathless. ‘Yes,’ I gasped out, before I had a chance to think twice. ‘I would like it.’

The massaging fingers stopped and I nearly moaned in protest as he drew them away, quickly sorting out his own clothing before helping me up off the floor. Once again he was gentle, handling me carefully as he urged me over to his desk, but nervousness collected in my gut all the same.

To distract myself, I looked around at the pristine work surface of his desk. ‘Is this really your office? Looks like you barely live in here, let alone work in here.’

‘I don’t work in here.’ He eased me up onto the desktop, his grip firm, urging me to sit back on it. ‘I’m not a fan of sitting still.’

My curiosity tightened, the instinct to get more information from him irresistible. ‘So where do you work, then?’

He gave me one of those wicked smiles. ‘In bed.’

Oh, yes, I could see him sitting in a massive bed heaped with pillows, wrapped in nothing but a crisp, white cotton sheet, all those colourful tattoos and hard muscles on show, tapping industriously on a laptop...

Warm hands wrapped around my ankles, easing them apart, and the image of him in bed working fractured then shattered. His fingers were so hot, painting fire on my bare skin, and he was watching me with that single-minded focus. As if I was the centre of his universe.

‘Let your knees fall open,’ he murmured, the look in his silver eyes making me dizzy.

I’d wanted to be in his spotlight and, now that I was, I could hardly breathe.

Slowly, I leaned back on my hands and let my knees fall wide, the fabric of my uniform sliding up, the subtle stretch of my inner thigh muscles a surprisingly erotic sensation.

‘Perfect.’ Blackwood pulled out the chair and seated himself at the desk, right between my thighs, as if he was sitting down for a meal.

And you’re his meal.

My heartbeat was louder than the music outside, my world narrowing down to his palms wrapped around my ankles, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just beneath my ankle bone, striking sparks throughout my entire body.

‘Now...’ He ran those wicked hands up from my ankles to my calves, his fingertips hot on my skin, and then up farther to push my uniform even higher. ‘Let’s see you.’

I shuddered as he slid my uniform up to my waist, then shuddered again as his fingers moved to my inner thighs, stroking me as he eased them wide apart. My breath caught and I had to bite down on the low moan that threatened to break free, aware of every sensation: the burn of my muscles, the fire of his touch on my sensitive skin, the cool wood of the desk beneath me.

The throb of my sex and the wet press of the cotton of my knickers.

‘You still with me, Sugar?’ The words were as soft and dark as black velvet, his sharp, silver gaze searching my face as his fingers traced circles over my achingly sensitive skin.

I had to force the word out because my mouth had gone so dry. ‘Yes.’

‘You sure?’

My breathing had started to get out of control, the sound of it loud in the room. If I’d cared about it I would have been embarrassed. But I didn’t care about it.

There was a pressure between my legs, getting more intense and harder to ignore, and every move he made, every touch, seemed to increase the weight of it.

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ I croaked, my voice sounding old, rusty and a little bit broken.

He nodded and then, still holding my gaze, he reached up and hooked the damp fabric of my knickers to the side, baring me.

I gasped, unable to help it as his attention dropped between my thighs, making me flush and tremble. No one had ever seen me there before. The only people who’d seen me naked were the nuns at St Paul’s, the orphanage where I’d spent the first few years of my life. No one else.

But now he was looking at me. Damian Blackwood, womaniser extraordinaire, the biggest, most sought-after playboy and party animal in the western world, was looking at my bare sex and I was just about to go up in flames.

‘Beautiful.’ His gaze flicked up to mine and I could see heat in it, a hunger he didn’t hide. ‘Absolutely fucking sensational.’

My cheeks flamed. Feeling exposed, I wanted to close my legs and hide myself, but he must have picked up on my discomfort because his palms firmed on my knees, holding them where they were. Keeping me spread for him.

‘I just want to look.’ His quicksilver gaze was relentless. ‘But I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to, so you need to be sure.’

I forced down my nervousness because, as much as this was confronting for me, I wanted it. And I wanted him looking at me. I wanted that spotlight.

I wanted to know that I existed. And his hands on my skin, his brilliant silver gaze... He was making me real with every touch.

‘I am,’ I whispered.

‘Good. Because, I’ll be honest, I’m going to do more than look. I fucking love eating pussy and you smell goddamn delicious.’

The frank words made me blush even hotter and I couldn’t think of a word to say.

He smiled, charming and wicked, and something in my chest clenched tight. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to say a thing. Just lie back and let me do all the work, hmm?’

I gave a shaky nod, my vocal cords momentarily escaping my conscious control. And that was all he needed.

He leaned forward, his hands sliding up to my hips, pulling me towards him, right to the edge of the desk. Then he put his palms on my inner thighs, holding me open as he bent his head, and his breath washed over my skin. I trembled at the sensation of warmth, and then again as his mouth brushed my inner thigh, a gasp escaping me. The kiss was like a hot coal pressed to my flesh, only without the pain, delivering delicious heat and intense pleasure instead.

I’d barely got used to his mouth when his fingers slid caressingly up my thighs to the slickness of my sex, and I shuddered, my breath catching hard as he touched me, gently spreading me open.

I found myself staring down at him, the sight of his dark head between my spread legs disturbingly erotic. The way he was touching me, opening me up with his fingers, was so careful, as if he was parting the petals of a flower. I’d never been touched like this before. So gently, as if I was something precious, and it made me feel oddly vulnerable, some part of me wanting him to stop, to tell him that I didn’t like it. But I did like it. And I didn’t want him to stop.

I shut my eyes and bit my lip, tensing as his finger circled around my clit, so close and yet not quite touching, teasing me, the vague friction scattering pleasure across my skin like sparks. Then he did it again and I couldn’t stop the low moan that broke from me or still the jerk of my hips. ‘Please...’ I said, even though I hadn’t meant to.

He made a rough sound that could have been either approval or denial, but either way I felt the vibration of it like a touch. And I was just shivering through that when he swept his tongue up the length of my sex, licking me as though I was his favourite ice cream.

I cried out as pleasure rippled the length of my body, and then he licked me again, long and slow, turning the pleasure sharper, more intense.

I jerked in his grip, unable to keep still, wriggling on the desktop as his tongue swept over me again, trying to direct him, because he kept missing the place I desperately wanted him to touch.

But all he did was laugh, a low and sexy rumble, his hands shifting to my hips and gripping me, holding me in place. ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ His breath was warm against my skin. ‘Not yet. You taste too fucking good for me to take this anything but slow.’

God, really? I didn’t think I could survive slow.

My hands had reached down of their own accord somehow, finding the soft black spikes of his hair, my fingers twisting into them, trying to direct his teasing mouth. He only gave another rumbling laugh before pushing his tongue deep inside me.

My head went back, a hoarse cry escaping me as the pleasure burned brighter, hotter. I shuddered, pulling at his hair, trying to move my hips, searching for more pressure, more friction, but he held me still, not letting me move. He was clearly in no hurry, exploring me in a series of lazy licks, nips and soft kisses. The alternating pressures and sensations intensified the pleasure, making me pant, my whole body shaking.

I was so ready to come, so ready. And yet he didn’t push me over, making the pleasure build higher and higher while he held the climax just out of reach.

I think I begged him. I know I pleaded with him. But either he didn’t listen or he was enjoying playing with me, because he kept me hovering on the edge for what felt like an eternity. Giving me light licks and then some thrusts of his tongue, a tease on my clit, then strokes of his fingers on my inner thighs, gentle touches and caresses.

It was too much. It was not enough.

I felt as though I was coming apart at the seams when he finally tipped me over, sucking on my clit and sliding two fingers inside me, the pressure and friction enough to make me throw back my head and scream as the pleasure detonated like a bomb inside me.

Every thought in my head turned to ash and blew away.

I lay there, my brain empty, the aftershocks pulsing through me, utterly boneless and not thinking about anything in particular.

Blackwood trailed soft kisses up my inner thighs, nuzzling against my skin, the prickle of his jaw sending delicious shivers everywhere.

‘Yeah, I called it. You did taste fucking amazing,’ he murmured, his breath warm. ‘I could have kept doing that all night.’

‘I’m not sure I could,’ I said with total honesty, my voice cracked. ‘I think I’m pretty much dead as it is.’

He laughed that sexy laugh and I had the odd urge to wrap it around me and snuggle up in it. ‘Tell me, Sugar,’ he said after a moment, very conversationally, stroking my thighs with unhurried fingers. ‘You’re here for the Red Queen, aren’t you?’