Читать книгу Unmasked / Inked - Stefanie London - Страница 17

CHAPTER SEVEN

IF KISSING WERE an Olympic sport, Damian would take home gold, silver and bronze. No contest. The man had a mastery over his tongue that was borderline indecent.

He tugged her hair, moving her head into place so he could take what he wanted. How he wanted it. This kind of kiss should have been accompanied by a crash of cymbals or the roar of the ocean. It could have its own soundtrack. But in reality, she was only aware of the slow sizzle of her nerves frying as she slowly melted into him.

“God,” he moaned into her ear as he sucked her lobe into his mouth.

Hot breath warmed her skin. He enveloped her, supported her. Held her in place. Only her mouth moved as she kissed him back, her body his to manoeuvre as he saw fit.

He released her hair, smoothing his hands down her neck, his thumb tracing the little hollow at the base of her throat. She could feel her pulse fluttering wildly, and she sucked in a breath, relishing the power he had over her. She willed him to fuck her right here, to tear her underwear to one side like he had on the balcony and release the tension bundled up tight between her legs.

But it seemed Damian had other ideas. Slower ideas. He leaned forward to suck on the skin at her décolletage, his tongue tracing the bones pressing against her skin before he moved down. Safe in his arms, she leaned back to give him the access he needed. He tugged the dress over, revealing her breast and drawing a nipple into his mouth.

He sucked, teeth scraping over the sensitive peak. Was it possible to come from only this? Lainey often orgasmed by her own hands rather than with a partner. The men she slept with thought breasts were more for jiggling and bouncing, but Damian treated hers like the centre of his world. He worshiped them.

She stifled a moan, flooded with the realisation that they were in a car, surrounded by windows. Tinted, thank God, but windows nonetheless. The rush of tires over bitumen flowed through her as Damian nipped at her breast. His tongue circled her before he drew her back into his mouth, the pressure building inside her. Rising until she felt like she’d explode.

“I’m going to get you off again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, princess.”

The soft words made her tremble, her sex pulsing hotly. Begging. Pleading. She nodded.

“Don’t be quiet, okay? I want to hear you this time.” He pressed his lips to her breast as his hand trailed down her stomach and landed on her thigh. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

Hot palms slid up her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress up to her hips. He moved aside the triangle of lace covering her sex and eased her open with gentle fingers. Probing. Teasing. A gasp caught in her throat.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned into her ear.

His eyes were dark and smoky, his mouth slack with desire. She had done this to him. Feminine power hummed through her body, mixing with the excitement that flamed as he teased her clit with his thumb.

He knew exactly where to press, how hard to push and when to ease back. Orgasm welled within her, threatening to crash over her at any moment. True to his promise, he brought her to the brink and let her hover there, suspended. Weightless. Wanting.

This time he didn’t rush her, choosing to toy with her instead. “We’re almost there. Just hold it for a little longer.”

He traced slow, maddening circles around her clit. She forced her hips not to buck, to let him give her this experience. He controlled the pace and therefore controlled her pleasure. Controlled her. Nails bit into her thighs as she resisted the urge to thrust against his hand. She was so close...so very close.

“Take it,” he growled.

He applied the last bit of pressure she needed to tip over, and the air evaporated from her lungs as she fell, fell, fell. She pressed her face into his neck, letting her cries of pleasure vibrate against his skin. Shudders ran through her body, deadening her limbs as she rubbed against his hand until there was nothing left. Until she’d squeezed every last bit of pleasure out.

Lainey wondered if she’d died and gone to some kind of sexual nirvana. She’d been with a few guys who liked the thrill of a public grope—alleyways, nightclubs, taxis. But it had never been her thing.

Until now.

She had a feeling Damian could make her want sex in any possible way, in any possible position. And maybe a few impossible ones, as well. He had a power over her that should have been frightening...only it wasn’t. It was the most thrilling, liberating thing she’d ever experienced, and they’d barely scratched the surface.

The sounds and sights of the world cut into her hazy post-sex glow. The honk of horns, tram bells ringing and sirens wailing. Lights flashed in her peripheral vision as they passed the hustle and bustle of the Flinders Street railway station.

Thank God for tinted windows.

“Do you feel like a queen yet?” His hand came to her jaw, tilting her face up to his as he brushed a thumb across the string of black beads shadowing her cheek.

“I’m certainly in the realm of royalty, but I’m not done yet.” She leaned forward, endorphins emboldening her, and slid her hand between their bodies.

Through the thin wool of his tuxedo trousers, he was hard. And long. And thick. Perfect. It was like he’d been created with pleasure in mind. Lainey’s heart skipped a beat. She was really going to do this—have sex with her best friend’s older brother in the back of a limo while he had no idea who she was.

A chord of unrest struck her, sending tiny pulses of worry through her system. The downside of this situation—of her carrying out her mission perfectly—was that he was willing to sleep with her without knowing a thing about her.

Are you really complaining because you’re about to get everything you set out for?

“Why did you agree to this?” she asked, immediately cursing herself for ruining the mood. “With me?”

“Do you mean because we’re strangers?” He removed her hand from his crotch and ran his palms over her shoulders and arms, caressing her. Soothing her. “Because you’re beautiful and interesting. Mysterious. Do you want me to try harder to convince you to take off your mask?”

“No.” Her gaze dropped. What did she want?

“I’m not in the habit of sleeping with anyone who offers, in case that thought is dancing through your mind.” He held her hands. “And I can’t quite explain it, but I feel like I know you even though I don’t. There’s something about you that has me quite...”

Lainey looked up, smirking. “Aroused?”

“Yes, but I was going to say ‘enraptured.’”

Enraptured. The word summed up everything she’d always wanted to be to him but never was.

Lainey, the crazy magnet. She’d thought once that being wild and impulsive meant she was interesting, but one day she woke up and realised that it exhausted people. But without that persona, who was she? The doubt had plagued her while she made her plans to leave Australia, the little demons in her head telling her to start over. To try her hand at being someone else. Maybe this time she would get it right.

“I don’t think I’ve ever enraptured anyone before,” she whispered.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

The shocking thing was, he sounded sincere. But he didn’t know who was behind the mask, so he couldn’t possibly mean it. It was lip service. Superficial. Words to keep the night moving along so he could get what they’d agreed to. Sex.

“You know all the right things to say.” She shoved the worries aside and planted her hands against his chest. “Now I guess it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

* * *

If Damian’s cock was any harder, he’d be at serious risk of busting the zipper on his trousers. Which would make returning them an interesting experience. Although he already owed Aaron an explanation after he’d quietly demanded that he and Jessie play along with Damian’s “fiancée.”

Yeah, in the scheme of things, a busted zipper was the least of his problems.

The redhead pulled her dress back into place and shimmied down his body, dropping to her knees at his feet. Between the sight of that smooth porcelain skin, the pressure of her hands on his thighs and her glossy lips parting in anticipation...oh, hell. He’d be carrying this image to the grave.

He’d meant what he said earlier. It did feel like he knew the redhead, like they had some existing bond, but that was impossible.

She reached for his zipper and drew it down. Damian shifted his hips so she could pull his pants and jocks down to his ankles. He probably looked ridiculous in a stuffy tuxedo jacket and mask, naked from the waist down, but he wasn’t physically able to give a fuck at that point. All that mattered now was the anticipation of having the redhead’s lips wrapped around him.

“Do you want it?” She looked up at him, eyes huge from the extreme angle.

She looked doll-like, with lips glistening and open, waiting for him. She hovered, teasing, testing.

“Fuck, yes.”

“Then take it.”

He growled on hearing his words come from her lips.

She didn’t move, she simply opened her mouth and stuck her tongue forward in invitation. He drove between her lips in a single, smooth thrust, and she closed around him tightly. The hot wetness consumed him and stars danced behind his shuttered lids as he gave himself over.

Both hands burrowed into her hair, controlling the bobbing motion of her head. It was pure, unadulterated bliss. With each flick of her tongue, each stroke, he grew closer. Pressure built at the base of his cock.

“Christ,” he gasped. “Those sweet lips feel so fucking good.”

He tried to pull back but she held him tight, the snug ring of her mouth sending dizzying shock waves through him. He hovered for what felt like eternity before she pulled back at the last minute, leaving him desperate and wanting.

Her lips curved into the most delicious smile he’d ever seen and he hauled her into his lap. “What do you want to do to me?”

Holding her tight with one arm, he leaned forward and fished his wallet out of his pants. He always kept a condom there, though it’d been an eternity since he’d needed one. Lights flickered outside the window, and it looked as though they were rounding the gardens again. He made a mental note to tip the driver generously.

“Tell me,” she repeated, plucking the foil from his hands and extracting the rubber. “Exactly what you want.”

It was hard to speak with her handling him, slipping the condom over him with sure fingers and her breasts rising and falling against the deep V of her dress. “I want to slide my cock into that tight little pussy of yours and feel you stretch around me. Then I’m going to hold your hips and grind into you until I feel you shake.”

She pushed up higher onto her knees and positioned herself over him, holding her dress in her hands. “More.”

“I’m going to fuck you until you come so hard that you squeeze every last drop of cum out of me.” His voice was a saw now, hard and cutting. So roughed up and dangerous.

“Oh, God.” Her breath stuttered in and out as she lowered herself onto him.

The feeling of her tight, wet heat was so sublime, Damian thought he might have been dreaming. But as she sank all the way down and his hands found the curve of her ass, he knew it was real. Nothing that good could come from his mind.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear, “Make me feel good. Make me forget everything except how you fill me.”

There would be no stopping him now. His fingers bit into her sides and he bucked up into her, dragging a groan from her lips. The edge of pleasure was too close already, but he didn’t want to hold back. Didn’t want to give her slow and sweet and sensual. No, this could only be hard and fast. Passionate. Furious.

He held her tight as she rocked against him, his hips thrusting up to meet her. Her teeth were at his neck, biting and scraping. Tugging. He smoothed a hand down the back of her head, feeling the ribbon holding her mask in place. Then he fisted the lengths of her silky hair and pulled so her face was tilted up to his. Her eyes rolled back and her lips parted, her cries soundless as she hovered at the precipice.

“You’re starting to shake.” The flutter of the muscles in her sex dragged him closer. “You’re so close. Remember what I said. I want you to come around my cock. Take every last drop.”

She trembled in his arms, her breaths turning to gasps as orgasm took hold of her. She squeezed him, her hips grinding as she wrung the pleasure from him. Dragging it out of them both until they peaked. He roared into her hair as the release shook him, his cock pulsing inside her.

* * *

Thankfully, Damian had a good grip on her, because that was the only thing stopping Lainey from tumbling back onto the floor of the limo. How long had they been driving? Had the driver heard everything going on back here? She reassured herself that if the guy drove limos for the rich and locally famous, he’d probably seen or heard a lot worse.

“Wow,” she breathed, her head resting against his shoulder.

“Wow, indeed.” His lips brushed her hair. “That was incredible.”

If only she could freeze time and stay here forever—in his arms, before the cold reality of what she’d done came crashing down like an avalanche. But it was officially time for Cinderella to turn into a pumpkin. Or something like that.

No doubt Damian would be a gentleman and offer to have the limo drop her home first, which couldn’t happen. He’d been to her place a few times. She’d have to give a fake address. Somewhere close enough for her to walk home safely, without giving the game away.

As she moved to climb off his lap, something shifted against her face. The mask slipped, and Lainey’s hand flew to the back of her head as shock seized her heart. She felt for the ribbon that held the mask in place, but all she could find were the frayed edges of where it should have attached.

Crap! One wrong move and she was about to have the mother of all wardrobe malfunctions.

“Is everything okay?” He reached out for her. But the gesture sent her into panic mode.

He could not find out her true identity. She couldn’t risk losing his respect, not to mention putting her friendship with Corinna on the line right before she was due to leave the country.

Just hold the damn mask and get the hell out of this car.

“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was tight. “I... I need to go.”

Damian glanced out the window. “Right now?”

They were driving down Swanston Street in the heart of the city, not at all close to her apartment. But there were plenty of people around, and she could hail a taxi. Besides, once Damian was gone, she didn’t need the mask. And then she’d just be a girl in a dress...a revealing, slightly too tight, impossibly expensive dress.

“Yes, please. Right now.” She searched for her clutch but couldn’t find it. Shit. Where had she left it?

Her breath came in shallow bursts, her ribs flexing against the tight fabric of the dress, which only served to amplify the panic. She needed her clutch—she wouldn’t be able to get back into the house without it. It had her keys, her money and ID. Oh, God, her ID!

If Damian saw it...

She spotted the bag on the floor of the limo. It must have been knocked down in their passionate encounter. She snatched it up and pressed it to her chest as though it were a life jacket.

“We can take you home,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of dropping you on the side of the road.”

“I live in the next block. It was...good timing.” Her voice was about as convincing as a politician telling people he had their best interests at heart. She wasn’t about to get into acting any time soon. “Please, ask him to stop.”

Damian sat still, his large frame seeming even more imposing in the wake of her panic. His lips pressed into a line, but he relented and zipped himself up before pressing the button to lower the privacy partition. A second later the limo pulled over.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me your number?” he said. “Even if I promise not to ask your name.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes.

Why was she being so emotional? This was exactly what she wanted—a night with the perfect man. Her perfect man. No consequences...except that she hadn’t factored in her stupid heart.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She leaned forward and stole a kiss before pushing the door open and stepping out onto the street, her hand still holding her mask in place.

Lainey waited, her muscles tense and aching, until the limo pulled into the stream of Saturday-night traffic. It disappeared around a corner at the next intersection, and the air flew out of her lungs. Her chest hurt. Her head hurt. The tender spot between her legs hurt, but in the best way possible. Damian had left his mark on her, and she would never be the same.

“Just great,” she muttered to herself as she stuck her arm out to hail a taxi. “You’re ruined for other men.”

As the yellow vehicle pulled over, she opened her purse to dig out her phone. That was when she realised that her grandmother’s compact was missing.