Текст книги "Bite Me"
Автор книги: Cynthia Dane
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
I don’t care who hears us. Security guard, cleaning personnel… fucking enjoy the sounds you hear. All I care about is the right here, right now, and right now Ian Mathers’s cock is giving me the greatest pleasure of my life.
“That’s it…” I whimper, entranced with the sensation inside me. “Fuck me, Ian!”
He does.
The man is an animal. A sex monster. He pierces me over and over, forcing my opening to spread so wide and my insides to split in order to take him. I’ve been wall-banged before, and it wasn’t like this. That guy could barely get halfway in me, and even so it was enough. Now? I feel myself take every inch of Ian’s cock. My thighs are sore and my legs don’t know where to dangle over his hands, but I don’t care… because Ian’s cock is driven in to the hilt, and the head of his cock has found my G-spot.
Goodbye. I’m gone!
I don’t even come from my clit being rubbed. I don’t come from my nipples being sucked and bitten. I don’t come from his tongue down my throat, his groans echoing in my mouth. No, I’m coming purely from the pounding I endure, my core swallowing Ian up and my inner walls tightening all around him.
My climax comes so swiftly that I barely have time to enjoy its arrival… but boy do I enjoy its stay. So long, so drawn out, my toes tingling in my heels that tap against the wall with every thrust. I’m so aware of my breasts, of the air tickling my nipples. Every nerve in my body is alive, and on fire. The burn spreads through me, like a radiation of warmth, and halfway through my orgasm I’m coaxing my muscles to massage this man’s cock.
I look into his eyes, my moan absolutely shameless.
“Fucking come for me,” he growls, his voice tired, but his body unrelenting. “Come for me, Katie. Do it for me.”
I am, Ian. You’ve got me so trapped that I have no choice but to swallow your cock inside of me and wait for you to…
…To…
The world blackens as I close my eyes, my orgasm subsiding but Ian taking me to a new level. He’s not stopping. I’ve come, but he’s still fucking me, everything so wet and slick now that it’s almost embarrassing how easily he pummels into me. My orgasm has subsided, and yet here comes another, quicker, dirtier one, threatening to make me whine, to make me beg.
I don’t beg.
I swear I don’t.
“Make me come!” I’m begging anyway, his speed so intense that my voice shakes. “I wanna come with you!”
One loud grunt fills the air. His thick cock is still tearing me in two. Another grunt. He’s pulling all the way out and then heaving back into me again. I’m so wide, so fucking cavernous that every time he leaves me I’m begging for him to fill me again.
Another orgasm. A smaller one, but still intense. My voice is so loud in this room that I know someone can hear me. Fuck, I don’t care. I open my eyes again and see Ian above me, his third and final grunt claiming the last of my sanity.
His cock impales me and swells. His thrusts are still strong, still fast, but so much shallower now. Ian wants to be buried in there. He needs me to tell him it’s okay to come.
“Do it,” I plead, although I keep my tone steady. “I’m ready.”
My G-spot lets me come a final time. Harder again. Ripping from my gut to my extremities, and taking my brain with it.
“Kathryn!”
Pulses of pleasure claim the both of us, my mind reeling from the sound of him in my ear. He’s groaning so loudly, drowning me out, his cock emptying. I can’t really feel it because of the condom, but that’s more than okay. Ian’s face is utter ecstasy as he finally, after twelve long fucking years, finishes inside of me.
He holds me there. My legs are so sore, so spread. My arms fall lax around his shoulders. I lean against him, my breaths beating into his chest.
Slowly, he pulls out of me and eases my legs onto the floor. They hurt. I can’t walk. I can barely stand, so I slip down onto the floor, my body so weary from sex that all I want to do is roll over and sleep on the carpet.
Ian joins me. He draws his knees up as he leans against the wall he fucked me on. He’s looking up toward the ceiling, but his eyes are closed. My head falls against his shoulder. My bun has come undone and my hair is spilling everywhere.
My panties are soaked from me alone. I clench my pants, but can’t bring myself to put them on. Instead I let it all spill out of me, my stretched opening incapable of holding in anything right now. As I relax, it finally closes. I can’t believe how much he managed to open me up.
In more ways than one.
“Well…” Ian begins, tapping his head against the wall. “We got that out of our systems.”
I both know what he means and not at all. Not at fucking all.
“Ian.” I bump my hand against his leg and wait for him to acknowledge me. “There’s something that I need to tell you.”
He eyes me suspiciously. I’m sure this isn’t how he wants to savor whatever afterglow we have.
“A week ago, when we were at The Dark Hour…”
Ian snorts and looks away again. “That was fun, having you watch me.”
“Yeah, about that.” My fingers linger on his leg. I wait for him to curl our hands together again, but he doesn’t. “I was in the room next to you guys. I… I heard everything.”
He’s silent for a long time, and at first I wonder if he didn’t hear me. Might be best that way. Somehow I can’t believe that I shared that at all. Then again, what? Was I going to take it to my grave? That I heard him say my name on accident during sex with another woman?
“Is that so?”
His voice is noncommittal. Probably because the man just had an intense orgasm and is now shutting down. “Why did that happen?”
“You’re seriously asking me that?”
“Yeah.”
Ian’s leg moves away from my touch. His hand goes to his cock and removes the used condom. “Why do you think it happened?” He reaches for a tissue on Anita’s desk and wraps it around the condom. The trash can is on the other side of the room, not that I want him to throw it away in here. Bathroom, Ian. Take it to the bathroom.
I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them. It feels weird having my body all to myself again. It feels even weirder saying that. “Because you wanted me?”
He’s staring at his crotch, but I don’t think it’s his limping dick he’s considering. “Would it freak you out if I said I was imagining that you were Stephanie May?”
“Freak me out? No. Although you might want to get your eyes checked. She’s way hotter than me.” Skinnier, for one.
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re gorgeous.”
Ian says it so smoothly that it’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s saying it. Nevertheless, I gaze at him, his profile striking in the shadows. I smooth down some of his five-o-clock shadow with my fingers and thank him.
“Kiss me.”
He does, lips fervent but gentle. I let mine linger on his until he pulls away, my hair gliding on his fingers.
I know we’re not going to have sex again. A part of me wants to savor this as long as possible. Why? I don’t know. It’s not like he and I will ever… that we could ever…
It wouldn’t work out.
Ian gets up, hands fumbling to put himself away and zip up his pants. He leaves his shirt untucked. It doesn’t matter this late at night. ‘”I think I’m gonna head out. Stop by the bathroom first. You know…”
“Uh huh.” I follow him out of the office as soon as I put myself respectably back together. We go our separate ways down the hall, the scent of lavender smacking me in the face when I enter the women’s restroom.
I look at myself in the large mirror above the sinks. My hair is completely disheveled. My tits are still hanging out of my blouse. Navy blue cotton hugs my ass, but is all disjointed in the front. I look like a woman who has just been fucked.
While I fix my clothes, I leave my hair. Who cares?
And why should I care that the office is empty when I get back, Ian’s belongings gone, like him?
Chapter 12
IAN
The day is beautiful. Just the right temperature, enough clouds to keep me from burning in my light cotton clothes, and so little humidity that I don’t have to worry about sweating in front of the hundreds of guests my father has invited to my natal home.
Once every three months, Dominic Mathers throws the biggest party around. Sometimes he has to skip one, but he doesn’t like to do so. You see, these parties put up the front that it’s all about unwinding from the hard world of business or whatever the hell people do, but in reality, the people he invites are either his investors, or people he’s looking to court as investors.
At least my father has the greatest party planning assistant on this good green Earth. The woman knows how to throw a party, even if I want to do anything but be here half the time.
The theme this season is “country club in white.” All the guests were told to show up in their best white apparel, because it’s after Memorial Day, don’t you know? I am wearing a loose cotton shirt tucked into khaki pants, because that’s what my assistant Valerie told me looks best for this type of shindig. Most of the others are dressed in white dresses – with hints of other colors and patterns – white suits, or some hodgepodge of pastels, blacks, and even gray. Depends on how quickly they made the decision to show up.
My family’s home has a sprawling field in the back. Most of the other families in the area concentrate on landscaping to the point they have elaborate flower gardens like Ethan Cole or hedge mazes like in the Château a ways from here. My father had the opposite tastes. For all his wealth, he’s a minimalistic type of man. Of course, when I was a young snot with too much energy, I thought the big rambling field tucked between old growth forests was the best thing in the world. I’d make my mother and nanny have their picnic lunches out there during the summer so I could build forts with cut grass and twigs I dragged in from the forest.
That was fun until I hit puberty earlier than most boys. Then I was two feet taller, covered in muscles and hair, and had a raging hard-on for every girl who wasn’t my mother or nanny – she was an older German woman named Mildred, okay?
Now my father uses this field to host his outdoor parties. Complete with elaborate croquet courses for groups of seven or eight to play while we wait for the catering to come through with sandwiches and other finger foods.
“It’s your turn, dear,” my mother says, tapping her mallet into the ground. “And please make an interesting play. I’m dying of boredom here.”
My mother hated these parties when she was married to my father, and she hates them even more now that she actually has to travel to attend them. She has her ways of getting back, however, Like wearing black to a white-only party.
I line up my shot and carefully hit the ball. I barely miss the one I was aiming for, and will now wait until my next invigorating turn. My brain is probably about half as melted as my mother’s. When it comes to these sorts of functions, I get all of my personality from her.
“So how’s the project coming along?” We’re standing off to the side while two old ladies fat with west-coast money squabble over whose ball is whose. “Your father says that the Andrews paid a visit to you and Kathryn on Friday.”
I’m lucky it’s not my turn, because I’ve done a bang-up job forgetting about Kathryn and Friday. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret driving my cock into her and feeling her body writhe between mine and the wall. If we didn’t do it, I would have exploded. Again. Like I did twelve years – damnit stop thinking about that.
But I didn’t explode anywhere but inside her this time. And hell, it was damn good.
Ahem.
“It’s fine.” Sweat fogs up my sunglasses, and I don’t know why I’m perspiring all of a sudden. Didn’t start until my mother mentioned Kathryn. Aw, fuck.
“Uh huh.” My mother clears her throat. “I’m surprised the Alisons aren’t here today. I would think your father would invite them after the Andrews.”
The star couple is schmoozing near the buffet table. Lana Andrews, dressed in a stunning white summer dress that accentuates her figure while still covering her up, puts her hand on everyone’s shoulder and bats her eyelashes at them – including the women. Some of them flirt back with her, which makes husband Ken smirk in arousal. Sure, he’s got it contained in his pants, but a man knows when another is salivating over his wife making nice with beautiful women. Knowing what I do about the Andrews’ personal lives? None of these people stand a chance. They’re all going to bed.
Yet I can’t help but laugh when I see the latest target is one of the heads of the community council. Well, if they’re going to use their swinger powers for good…
“The Alisons couldn’t make it,” I say. “They had something else planned.”
“Pity. I haven’t seen Kathryn in a while.”
For some reason, that makes me flinch.
“You two used to date, right?”
I turn around, facing my mother for the first time in five minutes. I half expect to see her smiling at me in that teasing way. Instead she’s looking as if she’s actually searching her brain for the right answer. Seriously?
“No. We have never dated.” My mallet is digging into the earth, creating a fun divot for someone to fix later. “You must be thinking of another blonde.”
“No… no, I clearly remember it being Kathryn Alison at that gala all those years ago.”
Play it cool, man. What the fuck does your mother know about the gala? “Remember it being her for what, exactly?” Don’t act like you know what she’s talking about. Play it cool.
Now she’s smiling at me, and I know I’m in trouble. “The one who was making eyes with you all day. Don’t play innocent, Ian. A mother knows when her son is… doing that.”
What is she implying? She usually doesn’t bring up any relationships I don’t make her privy to or don’t show up in the papers. And why now? Why would she bring this up now? “Perhaps so. That was a long time ago. I don’t really remember.”
“Oh, son, I would think you remember that.”
“You’d be mistaken.”
Before I know it, my turn has come again. My mother eyes me while I line up a shot. “You’ve always been a terrible liar to me.”
Her words make me miss my shot, and everyone around us chuckles.
“What am I lying about?” I mouth at her. She signals to the balls on the ground. Now I’m forced to take my shot again, and I miss the hoop by about five miles. More chuckling. I feel like a jackass. When a server comes by with tiny flutes of champagne, I take one and down it in five seconds, giving me enough time to return it to the tray before the server goes on her merry way.
Mother waits until I’m properly humiliated and back at her side before replying. “Forgive me. Your taste for blondes has led to me making embarrassing assumptions.”
She’s not embarrassed.
“Your father was the same way. Had a thing for brown hair.” My mother tucks her hand beneath her brown locks and tosses them behind her shoulder. “He wouldn’t shut up about two things when we dated – my hair and my tits.”
“Is this going somewhere?”
She shrugs. This is not what I really mean, but sometimes I hate my mother, in that slighted teenage boy sort of way. It bothers me that she knows so much about me and my life, even though I’ve stopped telling her a lot about it. She’s damned nosy. You’d never guess she cares about the answers you give her, but she does. She’s that good at masking all emotions.
Drives me nuts.
The game ends before I have the chance to take my next shitty shot. Thank God. I’m done being too distracted to play a game. Time to get away from my mother and drink something harder than champagne. Thankfully, my father always has a wet bar on hand at these functions.
Since it’s so crowded around the bar, I don’t see who’s sitting at the far end, alone, because nobody ever wants to deal with her scary ass.
“Oh, good, about time I found someone in charge around here.” Eva Warren smacks her hand on my arm, and I nearly jump out of my skin and drop my glass. “Who do I talk to about a severe lack of vodka at the bar? I need it to get through crap like this.”
Eva Warren is almost worse than my mother. I say almost, because unlike my mother, Eva can’t hide the fact that she’s messing with someone.
“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.”
Even though she’s wearing thick sunglasses, the twitch in her lips says that she’s borderline amused. “Kathryn told me that you know so much, though.”
Damnit, is today the day of harassing Ian about Kathryn? Are all these women in on some big secret together? Or maybe I’m going insane. “All right. I’ll indulge you. What do you want?”
“Touché!” Her long limbs slip off a stool, and now she’s standing next to me, nearly towering over me because the Warrens are ridiculously tall. They say her brother Henry has to sit in the lowest chair in the room to keep from intimidating his business partners during meetings. Meanwhile, men like Ken Andrews are probably stuffing lifts into their shoes to look taller. It takes all kinds in this rich world of ours.
Eva senses that I’m uncomfortable and slouches. How kind of the woman who is overdressed in a stylish white suit. Overdressed, and yet not even I can care because she owns it so well. Sometimes I think it wouldn’t be so bad being reborn a lesbian. I get to not give a shit about a single thing and still fuck women. Best of both worlds?
“I was merely wondering where that pretty blonde from last week was.” She shrugs, as if I shouldn’t be suspicious. “The two of you seemed to be having a lot of fun at the club. Not often a guy gets a polish that good.”
I’m lucky she’s keeping her voice down. “You liked what you saw, huh? Something you want to confess?” I can play her inappropriate game. In fact, I have to. Right now I have no idea if Kathryn has told her about what’s going on. I don’t know if she’s talked to her best friend about us having sex, or if she’s mentioned what else happened at the club. I’m not going to give that information away, but I also don’t want to act ignorant. Not in front of Eva.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Why do you care? I’m not seeing her right now.”
The way she looks at me is beyond unnerving, although I do my best to not let it show. Especially when we’re shortly joined by two people I could really live without right now.
“Eva!” Lana Andrews takes the woman’s hands and kisses the air around her cheeks. “So good to see you after so long. I didn’t know you were friendly with our man Ian here.”
She almost chokes, and I covertly roll my eyes. “He’s working with my friend Kathryn, you know.”
“Ah, yes, Kathryn.” Lana sounds so judgmental that I almost burst out laughing. “She’s, ah… interesting.”
For once, Eva and I are sharing a mutual look of defense mode. Except I have no idea why I feel this passionately about Kathryn’s honor.
Let’s set something straight. I have no problem with the Andrews. They’re a quirky couple who are a bit too big for their britches, but they’re smart, shrewd, and not afraid to go after what they want – even if that includes another person. Except right now they’re being a pain in my ass. Between this charade with The Grand and now snide comments about Kathryn, I’m feeling my blood boil.
God, why?
You know, I thought I got my burning need to fuck her out of my system Friday night. I was surprised that she went for it so easily, but hey, I wasn’t going to say no. Having her so willing to take me inside her so quickly was a boon to my ego and to the moment. Especially since she’s a Domme, and I thought she would resist, let alone a position like that. But I think we had a mutual understanding regarding our desire to finally accomplish what we set out to do twelve years ago.
I thought it would be all I needed to reset my brain and stop thinking about her so much. I had my fill, right? Yet I’m standing here like an idiot, wishing that I didn’t care so much that someone like Lana Andrews is even so much as implying that Kathryn doesn’t have her shit together. And it’s not like I feel guilty by association. I was flawless every time I presented. Shit, Eva has way more reasons to be angry. Kathryn’s her best friend.
And I’m… her… what? Temporary business partner?
Lover?
I’m under no delusion that sex will happen again. I don’t think I’ll say no, but it’s up to Kathryn, and I don’t see her jumping my bones again.
But… shit. Let me tell you. I went home Friday night, tired and ready for a shower and bed. So that’s what I did. I then promptly dreamed about tying that woman’s smooth arms above her head and tickling her nipples with the tip of a riding crop. Her ass was bigger in my dream, and there I was, spanking her and listening to her whimper in between shouts of pleasure…
…Begging me to spank her some more, to spread her open and have my fill of her
…Just fuck me. I do not want things that will for sure never happen.
“Kathryn’s been so busy working on the project that she hasn’t even had time to return my calls,” Eva says with a taut mouth. “And I’m in grad school.”
“Oh, how is that going? Must be so exciting.”
“It’s fine. Henry says that during my break later this year I should start heading a small subsidiary he’s setting up. Jewelry. Good enough to get any girl’s feet wet, I suppose.”
“Speaking of your bother, how’s he doing?”
Eva gestures behind Lana. Both she and I glance in that direction, catching sight of the tallest Warren sibling gliding through a small crowd, wearing a white-brimmed hat and a smart suit made of crisp whites and pale browns. My father’s courting him to be a major investor in another project, which explains why she’s here tagging along with her brother.
What isn’t apparent right away is the woman attached to his hip, a petite feminine beauty with curly black locks and a white gown that drapes on her thin limbs so she looks like a beautiful, lost ghost. Well, a happy one, because Monica Graham can’t stop smiling whenever someone speaks to her.
I don’t know much about her. Just that she’s engaged to Henry Warren and runs the Château men like me sometimes go to when we need something a bit more private and fantastical than even The Dark Hour. Rumor has it that’s where they met. A scoundrel, that Henry.
Oh, and they put on quite the BDSM show. Don’t ask me how I know. Not in front of Eva, anyway, She vomits anytime someone in our lifestyle brings it up. Oh, and don’t bring it up in front of the Andrews. That’ll give them ideas, and they’ll be directed toward me right now. You’re beautiful, Lana, and I’m sure you’ll sub for me for a night, but I’m not super interested in your husband watching. Or involving himself. I’m dreadfully heterosexual to the point of being no fun for you two. Another thing Eva and I can commiserate on right now, because you keep leering at her, Lana.
“What an intriguing couple,” Lana mutters, and I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not. She won’t say anything, though. Not in front of us. That’s Eva’s family. And we both know what a damned hypocrite we’ll be, since the Andrews’ mistress works at the Château, and both Lana and Ken frequent the place.
“It’s going to be the wedding of the year.” Eva’s droll voice cuts between us. “Whips and chains instead of party streamers. Everyone in latex. Ball gags for everyone who doesn’t compliment the bride.”
We both know she’s joking, but neither Lana nor I laugh. Eva soon excuses herself, leaving me with one of the most relentless women in either business or pleasure.
“Before you go along your way, Ian,” Lana begins, touching her fingers to my shoulder. “A friendly reminder that Ken and I are looking so very forward to wiping our hands of The Grand. Bit of bother, that building is. The taxes alone… but I digress.” Her sneer for the situation does not give me confidence. “What I’m trying to say is that you need to make sure Kathryn has her shit together. You may not be her keeper, but if you and your father want any chance of getting that building from us, then you best make sure that Kathryn Alison doesn’t botch up your presentation. It’s bad enough we let her get away with screwing up once. We won’t stand for it again.”
Those are her parting words to me, before she goes off to make nice with Henry Warren and his blushing fiancée. I’m left by the damned bar with half my drink warming in my hand. I don’t care. I finish it off in one gulp.
If no one else talks to me about Kathryn today, I can die happy. Because I am so tired of hearing that name, even if I’m incapable of saying anyone’s name but hers.
