All That He Requires(25)

“No!” I whispered, batting his hands away.

He raised his head and looked straight in my eyes. They were almost demented in their need – and as I stared into their sapphire depths, I felt my resolve slowly slipping away.

“Please, Lily,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Please, I’m begging you. Please let me fuck you.”

Ohhhhhhhh my God.

Please let me fuck you.

My knees trembled when he said that.

“But… someone might see…” I whispered, fearful. “We might get caught.”

The wild, animal expression of lust suddenly broke into the roguish grin I knew so well.

“That’s half the fun,” he said, and lowered his tongue again to my breast.

I moaned, then tried to form a coherent sentence. “…getting caught is fun…?”

He lifted his lips back up to my neck, caressed my ear with his lips, and whispered, “No… the danger of getting caught.”

After that, there was no way possible I could have said no.

The idea of it – of someone seeing us – was like gasoline on the fire raging inside me.

I was scared to death of it –

And yet, a deep, primal part of me wanted it.

Wanted someone to catch us.

Wanted someone to see this gorgeous, incredible, powerful man fucking me.

“Will you let me?” he growled into my ear, soft and dangerous and insanely hot. “Please. Please, Lily – please let me fuck you.”

I closed my eyes and dug my fingernails into his shoulders.

“…yes,” I whispered.

His mouth met mine, and he kissed me again, his tongue meeting mine, his lips possessing mine.

Then he tugged down on the right side of my dress and completely exposed both my breasts.

As he bent and sucked greedily again, switching blissfully from one nipple to the other, I felt his fingers hook through my panties and pull them down around my thighs.

I opened my eyes again and looked, terrified, to see if someone was outside the patio.

We were still alone.

I pressed my legs close together so he could tug my panties away more easily, and felt the damp cloth slide against my skin.

He bunched the black lace in his hand and shoved it in his pocket. Then he unzipped his pants, hitched backwards a little to give himself more room, and pulled out his cock.

I watched, fascinated, as his fingers grasped the thick base – and then I moaned as he pressed the tip against me.

The swollen head, still wet from his pre-cum, glided across my drenched lips. Then he moved the crown upwards, pressing against my clit, sliding up and down. No matter how rock-hard it looked, the tip was soft – firm, but soft – and the pressure sent a surge of pleasure through my whole body.

Then he let go of his shaft, put a hand under each of my cheeks, and lifted me effortlessly into the air.

I circled my arms around his neck and bit my lip as I stared into his eyes.

I felt something firm and wet hit the inside of my thigh – then slide across my skin – and then, finally, part my lips.

OH GOD.

Then he slowly lowered me down on him, his full length reaching deep inside me, his thickness totally filling me up.

I cried out loud with joy and raked my fingers down the back of his sports jacket.

The blissful fullness… that sweet pressure of being completely filled up… every inch of him pressing against me, inside me, with me – like liquid honey and sugar and chocolate and every sweet-tasting thing transformed into sensation, into sweet, sweet touch –

And then he began to fuck me.

Unnnnnnnhhhhhhh…

This wasn’t the gentle, sweet Connor, taking his time.

This was a beast unleashed.

And oh my GOD if I didn’t love it.

Just feeling his frenzy, hearing his guttural noises as he thrust deep within me – knowing the animal passion I was inspiring in him –

It brought out the animal in me.

And I started fucking him back.

I mean, he was in total control; he held my body effortlessly as he filled me over and over again.

But I raked my nails across his back, through his hair, bit his neck, could barely contain myself. I felt like something had been unleashed in me, and I couldn’t get enough of him, of his touch, of his smell, of his taste, of his skin, of his cock.

I cried out with every jolt of his body slapping my ass – not ladylike, sensual moans, but animal noises, high-pitched cries and groans and grunts, as I felt my pleasure spiraling higher and higher –

And then I came, gloriously, overpoweringly, a massive roll of thunder that shook me to my core, not stopping, kept coming with every glorious stroke and thrust of Connor inside me, lifting me higher and higher into bliss –

And then my orgasm began to subside, with longer spaces between the contractions, but Connor wasn’t letting up. I felt like I might come again – I felt myself start to lift again, felt the pleasure building, amazed that this could be happening –

And then I opened my eyes.

There was someone out on the path staring in.

It wasn’t like they had poked their head in; it’s just that the angle where they were standing allowed them to glance in and get a peek. Not much, but enough to see what was going on.

There were two people, actually, but I only saw the woman first.

She was probably about my age, and she was beautiful. She had black hair, with pretty features and big green eyes and tan skin. She was wearing a bikini top that barely covered her. She had a slim, Pilates-sculpted stomach, with a kind of sarong wrapped around her hips and a tiny diamond bellybutton piercing.

She looked like she’d been a popular girl in school – one of the beautiful people.

And she was staring at me, watching me in the throes of passion.

And I could see, despite the shocked expression and her mouth being slightly open –

That she wanted to be me.

She was looking at me with wonder, and jealousy, and longing.

Maybe it was the back of Connor’s head, or the broad, powerful shoulders, or his perfect ass in his $5000 suit… but I could see her look him over, and then at me, and I could see that she wanted to be exactly where I was.

There was a guy with her, too – a good-looking guy, kind of a rock-n-roll dude, with tats on his muscular arms and an Adam Levine haircut. Before I’d met Connor, I would have said he was insanely hot. Now he was just pretty good-looking by comparison.

He was grinning ear to ear as he stood holding his girlfriend’s hand.

But I didn’t look at him long.

I returned to her eyes, watching me, wanting what I had.

If you had asked me before, I’d have said I would freak out if someone caught us.

Instead, it was like I stepped outside of my body and saw me the way she saw me:

As the luckiest woman in the world.

And I figured something else out:

…I kind of like being watched.

A little.

Thank God it was a woman my age.

But instead of it throwing a wet blanket over me – instead of my pushing Connor away frantically – I just stared into her eyes, and I felt the ecstasy building in me again as I felt him thrusting deep and thick and powerful inside me.

My eyes fluttered closed, then I opened them as I moaned – and I saw rock-n-roll dude pull her away, obviously inspired to go start a little mischief of their own.

She stayed as long as possible, though, her eyes locked on mine, occasionally flitting away to Connor, to his body, then back up to me – and then her boyfriend pulled her out of view.

The last thing I saw was her eyes looking into mine, and the jealousy and desire and longing behind them.

Then they were gone.

I clutched Connor as hard as I could again and wrapped my arms around his neck.

I heard him groaning as he approached his climax, and I felt my own build up again to a fever pitch.

Then he cried out in my ear.

Hot wetness burst inside me, and as he continued to groan with pleasure, I came again, too – hard, fast, hot, wet, full of light and bliss and sweet, overwhelming contractions that left me trembling and weak in his arms.

I clutched his head and ran my fingers through his hair. I leaned against his neck, and I could smell the warm musk of his cologne, taste the salt of his sweat.

“Thank you,” he whispered in my ear, grateful and sated and sane once again.

I kissed his ear and licked him softly, then whispered back as cocky and devilish as he would have: “You’re welcome.”

He laughed, pulled his face back to look in my eyes, and then kissed me, softly and romantically.

We arranged ourselves as best we could – sweaty, messy, and disheveled – and then walked back to the car, hand in hand, occasionally sharing a brief, stolen kiss and a laugh or two.

I didn’t see the woman on the way back.

And I didn’t tell Connor about it.

I don’t know why, exactly… except that it was something I wanted to keep for myself.





30





We got back to the hotel safe and sound, though I basically looked like a hot mess. Not even the Lamborghini’s air conditioning could cure that. Bird-nest hair syndrome and streaks of sweat everywhere. Thank God my new dress was black, or there would have been some pretty unattractive stains showing.

Connor looked great. He wore the sweaty and disheveled look like a movie star in a big action thriller, where you know some makeup artist has touched up the beads of perspiration dewing his brow – because nobody looks that good after running five blocks through New Orleans in the summertime.

Except Connor did.

Okay, so we weren’t in New Orleans. And we hadn’t been running. But you get the picture.