Assistance.
One hand gripped her hip, and the other slid down her belly, dipping between her legs as he tugged her closer. Her breath fled her chest. The thrill of not knowing ignited her more, and she felt a rush of heat between her legs. She wanted him to feel it too. To know what he was doing to her. She was After Hours Michelle with him, so she let go of her other self, allowing herself to fully be the sexy, alluring woman who appeared when Jack Sullivan was inches away. “Touch me,” she said.
She felt it. The first press against her throbbing clit. The slide through her wet folds. The pressure from something that wasn’t his finger. Something that had been made. That had been created to bring her bliss.
“What is it?” she asked in between staccato breaths.
“It’s The Lola,” he said in a hot, husky voice, whispering in her ear as he rubbed a small toy against her aching pussy. She looked down—he held a sleek circular device between two fingers, one finger through a silver hole in the middle. The toy was like a large ring, made of the same soft material the world’s best pleasure toys came in. Only this one didn’t just stimulate her with vibrations. Somehow, the toy felt like a tongue against her. Like fast, intense flicks from the most wonderful, amazing, fantastic tongue she’d ever felt. Like Jack today. Times ten.
It was that good.
“I don’t have this one,” she said, in between gasps and moans.
“I know. It’s new. They say it feels fantastic against the skin,” he said, rubbing the vibrator against her. “Tell me if it does.”
She cried out. “Oh, yes.”
She felt as if her body belonged to this toy, to the intensity of the pleasure strumming through her blood and bones. It owned her.
“Does it make you want more of me?”
“So much more,” she moaned.
“This part,” he said, slowing only to press the soft middle section to her clit, the beads beneath the surface rotating against her, simulating the intoxicating sensations of a tongue flicking against her. “Does that feel like the way I licked your pussy earlier today?” he asked in a whisper, his breath hot against her skin.
“Yes. Oh, God. Yes.”
“I can make this feel like a soft swirl, or like I’m fucking you with my tongue,” he said, and began cycling through the levels of vibration. Her vision blurred from the sweet intensity. She wasn’t sure how she was still standing. “I can show you worlds of pleasure.”
“I want it,” she said, now begging because this was a new land of desire he’d taken her to, and she didn’t ever want to leave.
Working the toy expertly between her legs, he yanked her body closer, his erection hitting her backside. His voice was low and dirty as he growled in her ear. “This is what I can do to you for thirty nights.”
“I want it all. I want you,” she said in between pants and moans, her body arching into the toy.
“This is how you’ll be mine,” he said, gliding the toy across her clit that was so swollen she ached with the need to come. She felt desperate in every pore of her body. The intense need to climax was bearing down on her. Her world narrowed to this hot neon need as pleasure took over, spinning wildly out of control, blissfully into chaos as she leaned back into his chest, his arms holding her in place, his finger working her over and over with his toy as she shattered into endless erotic bliss, crying out his name above Manhattan.
Minutes later she turned around, looping her arms around his neck. “You win. That was the best orgasm of my life. I’m yours for thirty nights.”
* * *
He was right. He didn’t fuck her properly. Not one bit. Everything about the way he lifted her skirt and pressed a strong hand on her back, pushing her forward and forcing her to grasp the railing even harder, was thoroughly improper.
Rough. Demanding. Confident.
So was the slap on her ass and the bite on her shoulder blade—oh, the sweet sting of that bite, sure to leave marks. Then there was the way he shifted gears, running his hands down her back, layering kisses along her spine. As if he relished the transition from rough to tender.
“Now that I’ve won you, I’m going to have you,” he said in a hungry voice.
He palmed her ass, digging his thumbs into her cheeks and spreading her open. For the briefest of moments, she tensed. He wasn’t going to do that now, was he?
“Like that,” he said, his voice a rumble against her ear. “I want you like that. Nice and open for me.”
A shot of worry torqued through her. How far would he go? How much did he want from her? But the worry was less about him, and more about her. Everything he’d done so far was like a sensual reawakening. A reminder of the kind of sex she wanted to have. Earth-shattering. Mind-blowing. Pleasure beyond her fantasies. As she bowed her back, her hips high in the air, she couldn’t have felt more exposed even though she was half-dressed.