“I’m drenched.”
“I want to be inside you,” he says, and before he gives me permission, I slide two fingers deep inside. My body immediately contracts, drawing me in further. I’m hot and slippery, and drunk with pleasure. The heel of my hand rubs against my clit, and I can’t help it—I moan. And now Stark knows my secret.
“You broke the rules,” he says.
I arch back, I’m so close, but I don’t dare stroke myself. Not after hearing the command in his voice. “Rules are made to be broken.” I can barely croak out the words.
“Of course they are. If you’re willing to accept the punishment. Shall I punish you, Nikki? Shall I bend you over and spank your ass?”
“I—” I quiver, his words making me even hotter. I’ve never played those kinds of games, but right now the thought of being so vulnerable to Damien Stark sets me on fire.
“Or maybe I should make you pull your hands away. Leave you hungry. Leave you wanting.”
“Please no,” I say.
“I should,” he says. “I should leave you hanging.”
I don’t mean to, but I whimper a little. Why? If I want to get off, I can just get off. My fingers work just fine, and I’m so close. So very close …
But no. This is a game all right, and I’m playing with a partner. I don’t just want to come. I want to come because Damien took me there.
He chuckles, fully aware of the torment he’s inflicting. “Beg,” he says.
“Please.”
“Please, what?”
“Please, sir.”
“Is that the best you can do?”
“I want to come, Damien. I want to come with your voice taking me there, and I’m so close right now I think if this limo goes over a pothole it might just send me shooting to the moon.” I have lost all shame, all propriety. And I don’t even care. All I want to do is explode, knowing that it’s Damien hearing my screams on the other end of the phone line.
“Are you touching yourself?” There’s still an edge to his voice, but it’s raw now. Needy.
“Yes.”
“I want to taste you. Lick your fingers,” he says, and I comply, imagining my slick, wet fingers are his lips. “Tell me.”
“Slick,” I say. “Sweet. But, Damien, I want—”
“Hush, baby, I know. And I’m touching you now. I’m kneeling right in front of you, and you’re wide open to me. You’re wet and delicious, and my tongue is all over you, touching and tasting. Can you feel me flicking my tongue over your hard clit?”
“Yes,” I say as my finger strokes my swollen, demanding clit.
“You taste so good, and I’m so hard. I want to be inside you, but I can’t get enough of the taste of you.”
“Don’t stop.” I’m arching up, an orgasm rising up around me like the overture of a grand opera.
“Never,” he says. “But I need you to come for me now, baby. We’re close now, and it’s time. I’m touching you, I’m taking you over. Now, Nikki. Come for me now.”
I do.
So help me, it’s as if his voice takes me over the edge and I shatter like starlight against a black velvet sky, pinpoints of light bursting through me, so powerful and intense and meltingly hot.
“Oh, yes, baby,” he says, his voice strained, easing me down. “That’s it.”
I realize that I’m gasping, and my cries dissolve into little whimpers of pleasure mixed with loss. It’s over, and I’m alone in the back of a limo and the man who made me come is on the other end of a phone line somewhere.
A loose strand of hair sticks to my face and I push it off. I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. I’m spent. Taken.
I feel good.
I feel reckless.
“We’re here,” Damien says, and I turn to glance through the dark tinted windows. Sure enough, the limo is pulling to a stop outside my condo. I realize that when he’d said that we were close, he didn’t mean my orgasm. He meant my home.