Читать книгу The Dare Collection September 2019 - Stefanie London - Страница 16

I COULDN’T BREATHE. I literally couldn’t. Not while Mr Evans stared at me as if he wanted to eat me alive.

And I wanted him to.

Or rather, I wanted to climb into the back seat, crawl into his lap and put my hands on him. Discover the contours of his body, get his engine revving hard, experience the thrill of being at the wheel, handling all that raw power. Speeding down the track...

I had no idea how I’d gone from being embarrassed and expecting to be fired to having my hand on his cock, but it was probably to do with the way he’d goaded me.

I’d tried not to make a fuss about how he’d busted me staring at him in the mirror, tried to keep it jokey and light instead, but he hadn’t let me. He’d been all pissy and rude, and when I’d confronted him, he’d stared at me with those electric-blue eyes and told me bluntly that he wanted to fuck me.

I’d been as much shocked as I had been turned on.

Then I’d got angry at being turned on and things had somehow escalated from there until here I was with my hand on his cock, wanting to fuck him as badly as he apparently wanted to fuck me.

Thoughts of my father and Australis had vanished. The doubts I’d had about touching him, about the way he was looking at me, about memories of Mark had dissipated like smoke.

Because this was nothing like what had happened with Mark.

Mr Evans hadn’t made a grab for me, even though I’d put my hand on him. Even though I’d goaded him as much as he’d goaded me.

No, he’d just sat there and let me touch him, the hard set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes telling me exactly what my hand was doing to him.

It was intoxicating. He was a supercar in human form. Powerful, sleek, dangerous and difficult to manage. But, oh, how I wanted to manage him.

And why not? I knew how to drive a car. Driving a man wasn’t that different.

Are you sure that’s a good idea? This isn’t Davey and you’re not at school any more.

No, I was a grown woman and Mr Evans was definitely nothing like my high-school boyfriend.

He was more than that, he was a challenge I simply couldn’t resist, and wasn’t going to. Because who knew when I’d meet a man like this again?

I might not ever. In which case this would be my only chance to take him out for a spin...

Mr Evans was sitting sprawled out in the back seat, the whole car full of an intense, thrumming energy, like an engine at full rev.

And he was looking at me as if daring me to take him on.

God, he was mesmerising. Even sitting there apparently relaxed he looked dark and arrogant and powerful.

He wasn’t a beautiful man—he was too rugged, too rough and scarred, for beauty. Yet he was phenomenally attractive all the same. Blue eyes and a hard jaw, powerful chest and lean hips. A long, thick ridge behind the denim of his fly...

A thought suddenly occurred to me. ‘What about your blonde?’

‘What about her?’

‘She’s waiting for you.’

His glower intensified, but without a word he reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, looking down at the screen to type in a quick message. Then he threw the phone carelessly down on the seat next to him. ‘She’s not waiting any more. The hotel staff will make sure she’s looked after.’ The ferocity in his face grew impossibly fiercer. ‘Happy?’

I didn’t respond. Instead, with no grace at all, I launched myself out of the driver’s seat and into the back.

He reached for me before I’d completed the movement, catching me by my hips and pulling me into his lap so I sat facing him, my thighs spread on either side of his lean waist.

Right where I wanted to be.

For a moment all I could do was sit, my heartbeat thundering in my head as the reality of the situation began to form around me, a cage of heat, of sensation. Of need.

Sitting on him was exactly like sitting directly on top of a V8 engine.

Hard. Hot. And so powerful.

Excitement clogged my throat and I put my hands out to press against the wall of his chest and, sure enough, that was hard and hot, too, power thrumming through him.

God, he felt amazing.

‘Oh.’ I breathed out slowly, my palms pressing harder, lost for words. ‘Oh...wow... You’re...like...wow...’

His gaze burned up into mine, the rough lines of his face tight and fierce. His hands tightened and he shifted, flexing his hips, the ridge of his dick pressing against me in the most incredible way, sending a bolt of pleasure right through me and making me gasp aloud.

But Mr Evans wasn’t simply a machine waiting for me to turn the key. He was already running.

He lifted a hand, his fingers curling around my black tie, tugging on it at the same time as he leaned forward, catching my mouth with his.

Heat poured through me in an overwhelming wave.

I’d never had a kiss like it. Oh, I’d kissed my high-school boyfriend quite a bit, but comparing him to Mr Evans was like comparing a Mini Cooper to a Lamborghini. They were both men and both had mouths but, as far as similarities went, that was it.

Mr Evans took my mouth as if he owned it, his tongue pushing inside, exploring, demanding a response. He tasted rich and dark, like my favourite chocolate, with a sharp, spicy edge that took my hunger and amplified it somehow.

I leaned into him, my fingers spreading out on his chest, kissing him back with a desperation I couldn’t hide, unable to stop the moan that ripped from my throat.

His grip tightened on my tie in response, holding me still. Then he took the cap off my head and threw it on the seat next to him, before pulling my hair free of my ponytail and letting it spill over his free hand.

He made a soft, rumbling sound of approval before he took my mouth again in another hard kiss, nipping at my bottom lip, sending little electric shocks of pain jolting through me.

I groaned, the kiss intensifying the ache between my thighs.

Unable to keep still, I curled my fingers into the cotton of his T-shirt, tugging at it, desperate to touch him as I kissed him back, to feel his skin and the hard muscle beneath under my hands.

He didn’t move, ravaging my mouth, his grip keeping me right where I was. But I was in the driver’s seat and I wanted to drive.

Acting on an instinct I hadn’t known I’d possessed, I ground myself down on his lap, twisting so the hard ridge of his cock was pushing against my throbbing clit, sending hard, sharp pulses of pleasure spiralling through my veins.

A growling sound escaped him, the vibration of it echoing through my entire body, thrilling me, making me so aware of him and his power, his strength.

I’d never felt so hungry for something in my entire life. Hadn’t known I could even feel this hungry, as if it had been inside me all this time just waiting for the right man to release it.

My hands shook as I clawed at his T-shirt, dragging it up, and then the hot, oiled silk of his chest was bare and I was touching him, prickles of hair a delightful abrasion against my skin, the rock-hard feel of his muscles a glory.

Oh, yes, he was just like one of those cars, smooth and sleek, the bass rumble of his engine a delicious thrum as I touched him.

I could handle this. Oh, I could more than handle this.

I opened my mouth, kissing him harder, shifting my hips impatiently, being demanding.

He bit me, a firm nip on my bottom lip that made me gasp, then let go of my tie and took his hand from my hair...before jerking my shirt open with one hard, sharp movement.

I trembled, the air cool on my heated skin, and then he was pulling aside the cups of my bra, his big, warm hands cupping my breasts, long fingers pinching my nipples.

I shuddered as sparks of pleasure and delicious points of pain electrified every nerve ending I had. It felt so good, I could hardly believe it. I had the distant thought that after Mark, having someone touching me should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. This made the throb between my legs more intense, the pleasure more acute. No wonder the blonde had been leaning into him.

‘Oh, my God,’ I whispered in amazement, arching into his hands as he flicked his thumbs over my achingly hard nipples.

‘Yes, you like that, don’t you?’ His voice was as deep and dark as it could possibly get. ‘Now who’s boss, pretty thing?’

‘Me,’ I replied, gasping as he pinched me again. ‘I’m the one driving.’

‘Are you, now?’ His thumbs circled around each nipple, gentle now, teasing me mercilessly. ‘Then by all means, take the wheel.’

So I did, spreading my hands out on his chest and pushing him firmly against the back of the seat. Then I reached down to the button on his jeans, pulling at it, trying to get it open.

He was so hot and he smelled musky, with the bite of some dark spice that had me nuzzling down the side of his neck, biting it so I could taste his skin, kissing his collarbones and nipping at him.

He cursed, his powerful body tightening, and I clamped my thighs around his waist to let him know that I had no intention of moving and that I didn’t want him to, either.

But his hands were moving too, finding the button on my trousers and deftly flicking it open as I fumbled with his jeans, then he was pushing beneath the cotton of my knickers, his fingers sliding against my slick flesh.

Stars burst behind my eyes as a whip of pure pleasure licked across me, tearing another gasp from my throat. His other hand settled on the small of my back, urging me forward and against his stroking fingers.

‘Oh...’ I gasped. ‘I... God...’

‘Still driving, hmmm?’ he purred in my ear, all arrogant male satisfaction.

I tried to pull myself together, tugging at his jeans, desperate to get them open and my hands on him so I could stay in charge, but he’d already found my clit and, for all his brute strength, his touch was so gentle, so light that, much to my horror, I felt the prick of tears.

No. How was this happening? I hadn’t cried for years, not since my mother’s funeral, so why was I crying now? Why was having someone else touch me so much more intense than when I touched myself? Because it was. And I had no idea why.

I shuddered helplessly, all thoughts about fighting him for control fading away, crushed by the weight of pleasure building inside me.

‘Why don’t you let me drive for a change?’ His voice was a low, dark rumble, his finger stroking gently, making me rock against him, desperate for more.

‘Yes,’ I panted, barely aware of what I was saying, turning my face into his neck as pleasure gathered tight as a fist inside me. ‘Yes, okay...please.’

There was something to this, to simply letting him do what he wanted. Like giving myself up to the machine carrying me, to the speed of it. Trusting that it wouldn’t crash somehow.

Strange to give that trust to a man I didn’t know.

But I did it all the same, shifting my hips against his hand as his finger slipped and slid around my clit, his other hand pressing hard against the small of my back. ‘Oh, Mr Evans...’

‘That’s sexy, pretty thing. But I think you can call me Ash now.’

I shuddered as his finger eased inside me, testing me. ‘A-Ash...’

‘Better,’ he growled. ‘I like the way you say my name when my fingers are in your pussy.’ And he pushed another in, stretching me.

I moaned, pleasure breaking over me in waves as his fingers slid in deep. Then out. Then in.

My fingers curled on his chest, digging into the heavy muscle of his pecs as I tried to move against him, impatient now and increasingly desperate. ‘More,’ I whispered. ‘Faster.’

‘Patience.’ His fingers slowed. ‘Remember who’s driving.’

But I’d never been one for patience.

My hands were shaking as I made one last frustrated attempt to get his jeans open but this time I managed it. And then I was pushing beneath the denim and into his boxers, finding the huge, hard length of his cock.

He hissed as I wrapped my fingers around him and for a second I forgot what he was doing to me, the velvety feel of his skin so unexpected. But the heat was there—oh, God, so much of it.

I tightened my fingers, relishing the way he jerked in my grip.

But that was where I miscalculated.

One minute he was sitting there like a car before a race, engine rumbling, my foot on the gas and my hands on the wheel. The next he surged beneath me as if the flag had dropped.

With effortless strength, he pushed me back, holding me as he somehow stripped my trousers off, taking my underwear with them. I thought he was going to put me on my back and I opened my mouth to protest, wanting to stay in his lap, but before I could say a word he settled me back where I was, my thighs spread over him, the denim of his jeans rubbing against my tender skin.

Panting, I stared at him, for a second unable to move.

His blue eyes met mine with so much ferocity I couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t look away as he reached behind him, shifting to get something out of his pocket. His wallet. Then he took a small foil packet out of it. A condom.

‘Still with me?’ he demanded as he ripped open the packet, his gaze searching.

‘Yes.’ My voice was little more than a croak. ‘Can I...?’ I reached for the condom, wanting to put it on him, touch him, feel the rock-hard length of him for myself.

‘Hell, no.’ He ignored my hands. ‘Not this time.’

And I didn’t have time to be disappointed, because he’d rolled down the condom and lifted me before I could protest, setting me back down, something long and hard and thick easing into me.

I gasped as he put his hands on my hips, pushing me down at the same time as he thrust up, impaling me.

The pleasure was almost agonising and I cried out, overwhelmed by an intense feeling of fullness, as if he were taking up all the air in my body and there were no room for me.

I shuddered, the unexpected sensation making me feel strangely panicky, my eyes prickling again.

But he must have sensed my distress, because his hands were stroking down my back, soothing me. ‘Easy,’ he murmured. ‘Take it slow.’

His blue gaze was a lifeline I could hold on to and I did, staring back, my hands on his shoulders, shivering as he began to move, surging up into me, his fingers shifting to my hips and moving me with him, showing me the way to go.

The panicky feeling receded, leaving me with the same breathless hunger I’d felt before and a pleasure that pushed at my boundaries, making me gasp and shake.

He kept moving, thrusting up into me, hard and deep, pulling away from me, like those big cars. Taking control.

And I let myself go, let myself feel the speed, moving with him faster and faster, the power of his hot, hard body pushing into mine, taking me with him, a race to the finish.

I could have raced for ever.

But then he took my hand and brought it down between us, putting my fingers against my own wet flesh and holding them down as he thrust, deeper, harder.

Then there was lightning behind my eyes, an explosion of heat inside me, petrol igniting and pleasure cascading through my body. So much pleasure...

I opened my mouth to scream but he covered it with his own, drinking down my release as he moved, faster and out of control, chasing his own ending.

Afterwards there was nothing but silence, the car full of the desperate sounds of our breathing. I couldn’t move, my body heavy and sated, happy to rest against his strength and immense heat.

Then the aftershocks of the orgasm began to recede and I began to feel cold and shaky. And somehow he must’ve sensed it, because he slid his hands from my hips and up my back, then down again, stroking me slowly, lightly, like a cat.

My family wasn’t physical. A back slap here, a handshake there, and that was it. We didn’t hug. Dad wasn’t much for displays of affection. And since my mother had died, no one had ever touched me like this, gently, as if I needed soothing or comfort.

Again, I was horrified by the prickling of yet more tears, my throat getting tight and my chest sore as another weird emotional tide rushed in where the pleasure had been not moments before.

I didn’t understand it. I’d never cried the few times I’d had sex. It had been nice, sure, but afterwards I’d only felt a bit awkward. Certainly not...whatever this was.

Maybe it was a girl thing. Either way, I did not want it, especially not in front of Mr Evans.

Moving quickly, I pushed myself away, wriggling out of his grip before he could stop me.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Where are you going?’

I kept my face turned away as I frantically grabbed my trousers and underwear, inelegantly shifting around on the back seat as I pulled them back on again. ‘Uh...gotta get back. You know, things to do.’

Thank God I sounded okay and not all husky and thick.

There was a moment’s silence as I hunted around for my cap, blinking furiously against the tears that threatened.

‘Are you okay?’ The edge of command was in his voice, leaving me in no doubt he wanted a response.

Dammit.

Forcing away the thickness in my throat and ignoring the pricking behind my eyes, I made myself turn around and meet his gaze.

It was sharp, the expression on his scarred face fierce as he scanned me like a quality inspector looking for faults.

I forced myself to hold his stare. ‘I’m fine.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Why don’t you come up to my hotel room? I’ll order dinner and run you a bath.’

The heavy emotion in my chest gathered tighter. ‘Um, no, thank you,’ I said quickly, ignoring the part of me that very much wanted to do just that. ‘Like I said, things to do.’

‘Miss Little—’

I leaned forward and kissed him before he could finish. ‘Thanks for that, it was really fun.’ I turned around, pulling the door handle so I could get out.

It would have been better if I could have walked away, but sadly, I had to deal with the limo, which meant waiting until he was ready to leave.

So I got in the driver’s side, determinedly checking over my clothing to make sure everything was all buttoned up, resolutely not looking at him.

There was a silence in the back of the car. Then eventually, his voice curt, he said, ‘Tomorrow. 9:00 a.m. Don’t be late.’

I risked a glance in the mirror and found his searing blue gaze on mine again. It took effort to give him my usual smile, but I managed it. ‘See you then, Mr Evans,’ I said jauntily.

I waited until he’d got out of the car.

Then I burst into tears.