Eye Candy

“You better be on my cock when you come, babe.” It sounds a bit like a threat.

I let go of his wrist and whine when his fingers disappear. It forces me to refocus though. I shove my hand down the front of his boxers and grip his erection. Bancroft has a magnificent cock. It’s just as huge and gorgeous as the rest of him. The constant flash of lights as we pass under the street lamps and through busy New York traffic gives me a sporadic, but sufficient view.

Bancroft grabs my hips and pulls me forward. I line us up and drop down. “Fuck yes,” he groans.

I want to ridicule him for being loud and potentially embarrassing the driver, but he cups my ass and rocks me forward. I only need a few well-timed thrusts and I’m coming. I thread my hand through his hair, gripping it tight. My mouth drops open and I rasp his name, a soft, pitchy sound catching in my throat.

One corner of Bancroft’s mouth turns up in a wicked sneer. “That’s it babe, that’s what I want, you squeezing my cock, looking at me like I’m your fucking God.”

Have I mentioned that Bancroft is a cocky, dirty talker when we’re having sex? Especially the public kind. Car sex isn’t super frequent, but we do have sex at his parents’ house pretty much every single time we’re there. Most of the time it’s quick and dirty; the appetizer before the main course when we get home.

When I’m done coming, Bane reaches behind me and unzips my dress, pulling it roughly over my head. He ruins my bra when he can’t get it off fast enough. Not that I care. I have lots at home.

Bane runs his hands down my sides, exhaling a hard breath. Grabbing my left breast with one hand and my right butt cheek with the other he slides down the seat and uses the anchor points to lift and lower me while he pumps his hips and I start grinding.

“Look at you. You’re goddamn glorious.”

My reflection wavers in the tinted glass. I’m grateful no one can see in, considering I’m completely naked and Bancroft is fully dressed. I don’t know why it makes the sex hotter. As does the fact that we’re sitting at a red light at an intersection and I’m bouncing away on his lap, heading for orgasm number two.

“Please tell me you’re going to fuck me again when we get home,” I groan.

He releases a breast and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close until my chest presses against his. “You bet your sweet ass I am. This is just a warm up.”

“I guess it’s good you’re working from home tomorrow, huh?” I ask breathlessly.

“Damn right.”

Note to self: insecure Bane is insatiable.





Chapter 7: Costumes Are Crazy


Amie

“We need to pick costumes for the Halloween soirée.” We only have two and a half weeks left. That’s not a lot of time. I might need a dress customized. Ruby has the skill set required to do it, but I’ll need time to find the appropriate pieces to put together and she’ll require time to work her magic.

Armstrong looks up from his newspaper. “Why can’t it just be a masquerade? Why can’t I just wear a tux and put on a mask and you get a new ball gown that matches my tie and we’re done.”

“Because it’s not a masquerade party. It’s a Halloween soirée and we need to come up with coordinating costumes because that’s the theme. Your mother’s the one who picked it,” I point out. Although Mimi had a hand in making the decision, thankfully. Otherwise it would’ve ended up being extraordinarily boring.

Armstrong sets his paper down, possibly aware that I’m not going to let up until we make an actual decision. “Remind me what the theme is again.”

“Famous couples.”

“Why don’t we go as royalty. That’s simple. Then I can wear a tux and you can wear a ball gown and everyone wins because you’re dressed in a costume.” He smiles as if he’s come up with the best idea in the world and picks his paper up again.

I round the table. Armstrong is in his typical bed wear: a white cotton T-shirt and a pair of cotton pajama pants. The shirt fits a little loosely instead of hugging his chest and arms. Although he has a lean build, so that’s part of the reason.

His dark blond hair is a little longer, curling at the base of his neck and hanging across his forehead. I run my fingers through it, pushing it back.

The unexpected affection catches him off guard and he sets his paper down again, looking up at me. I take the opportunity for what it is and sit in his lap. Neither of us has to be at the office early. There’s plenty of time for morning activities of the pleasurable variety. Draping an arm over his shoulder, I ask, “What royal couple would you like to go as?”

He settles a hand on my hip. “What about Kate and William?”

I finger the curls at the back of his neck. “Kate has dark hair and William is losing his.”

“Hmm.” His gaze dips down to the gape in my robe. I’m wearing a pale satin sheath. My nipples are very prominent. “What about Prince Charming and Cinderella? That should be easy. Or Sleeping Beauty and Phillip.”

It would be a little odd that Armstrong is so familiar with the names of the Disney princes and princesses if his aunts and uncles didn’t have children who were significantly younger than he is.

“Or we could just go as Ken and Barbie.” I mean it as a joke, obviously.

“Your breasts aren’t large enough for you to pull off Barbie.”

I’m about to push out of his lap, but he tightens his grip on my waist. “I didn’t mean that in a negative way. Yours fit nicely in my hands.” As if to prove his point he cups them. “If at any time you become unhappy with their size, we can always visit a cosmetic surgeon and have them augmented.”

“You want me to get a boob job?” Never has he ever mentioned being unsatisfied with the size of my breasts.

“No. No. Not now. They’re quite perky. I just mean down the line, if things should change and it’s something you want.” He pulls at the tie on my robe, pushing it over my shoulders. He traces the satin strap and brushes over my nipple through the thin fabric. “Yes. More than adequate, really.” From Armstrong, that’s a compliment.

I suck in a quick breath. Armstrong isn’t really a morning sex kind of guy. It messes with his routine, which he’s very particular about. But we have all this time. What’s fifteen minutes? A quickie. Something to take the edge off. And maybe this time I’ll come.

I push the strap over my shoulder, exposing the nipple. It tightens at the kiss of cool air. “Maybe we should get naked.”

“Right now?”

I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “We have the time.”

He nods slowly, absorbing this potential deviation from his morning ritual. “We do.”

I go in for a kiss and he turns his head. “I have coffee breath.”

“I like coffee.” I kiss my way over his chin.

“We should shower first.”

“Why bother when you’re about to get me all dirty, anyway?”