Vice(16)

"Things." He swallowed, the rise and fall of his Adam's apple painfully  obvious, shifting his attention back to the road and increasing his  speed. He had to be going close to seventy and if Pete Underwood did  happen to catch us there'd be all kinds of hell to pay. "Touch  yourself."

"What?" I would have laughed if I thought he was joking but the set of his jaw made me think that wasn't the case. "Seriously?"

"You weren't shy a few minutes ago when you were all but giving me a  handjob." He flicked a gaze my direction which was nothing short of  scorching. "I want to watch you touch yourself. I want you as worked up  as I am. I need you that way because ten seconds after I park this car  I'm going to be inside you."

"Ten seconds, hmm?" I shifted until I was able to spread my legs a  little bit wider, giving me space to slide my hand between my thighs. I  sucked in a breath when my fingertips brushed over the already wet folds  of my cunt, exhaling on a shaky laugh. "It's going to take longer than  ten seconds to get me off, Mr. Hansom."

"Fuck." Taking one hand off the wheel, he reached over and grabbed my  wrist, pushing my hand tight against my core. "You've got about two  minutes to get on my level. And then we'll see how long it takes to get  you off."         

     



 

"Oh, yes, sir." I meant it as a joke but if the way he tightened his  grip was a hint, I'd have to remember to be more... not submissive...  demure, perhaps. Clearly, it did things to him, things which would no  doubt turn out to be very, very good for me as well.

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back against the window,  concentrating on the slick warmth of my outer lips, my inner muscles  clenching at the first press of a fingertip to my clit. Even with his  limpet like grip on my wrist, it was only a matter of seconds before I  all but forgot he was there. As badly as I wanted to slip a finger deep  in my pussy, I held back, focusing all my attention on my clit, driving  myself up to an orgasm with nearly the same speed as Abraham was driving  the car.

I was five seconds, probably less, away from coming when he tugged on my  wrist, pulling my hand away from my cunt with an intensity which  bordered on vicious. I gasped, gripping the back of the seat with my  free hand and opening my eyes to glare at him. "Bastard. I was so close.  I am so close. I can practically taste it."

"Great idea." He lifted my hand to his mouth, sucking my fingers clean,  the swirl of his tongue over each digit only tightening the knot of  arousal deep in my core. "You taste amazing, by the way. Just in case  you want to know."

"What I want is to come so hard I see goddamn stars." I bit out the  words, digging my nails in to the upholstery. "Or go blind. Or both."

Apparently, orgasm denial made me cranky.

"I think I can arrange that." He jerked the wheel and I realized, with  no small degree of shock, we were finally at the bar. He jerked the  wheel hard again, sending the car fishtailing for a few scary,  exhilarating seconds before slamming on the brakes, coming to a  screeching halt parallel to the building. He threw the gear shift in to  park, killed the engine, and yanked me over with such smooth precision  it was arousing all on its own.

I fumbled with his belt buckle, swallowing back something which felt  suspiciously like a sob. I would have been embarrassed at how obviously I  wanted-hell, needed-him if it wasn't for the fact his hands were  shaking as he pushed my dress up to my hips. When I finally managed to  undo the button of his slacks and tear down the zipper, I muttered,  "Thank God."

"Not yet." He wrapped one arm around my waist, arching toward me as he  pulled his cock free, the head and barbell piercing already wet with  precum. "In thirty seconds."

Before I could make a comment about his ego, he twisted his hips and  pulled me down, sinking the entire length of his cock inside me in one  smooth motion.

It might have been the angle. Or the piercing. Or the simple fact I was still teetering on the edge of orgasm.

Whatever the reason, when the tiny barbell scraped over my G-spot, I got my wish.

I came so hard I saw stars, the edges of my vision going white hot  before I closed my eyes and tipped my head back on a strangled whimper.

"Jesus." My ears were still ringing but I thought I caught a hint of reverence in his voice. "Jesus, Jeannie. Do that again."

It was a struggle but I managed to lift my head and open my eyes,  forcing myself to smirk even though my reply was low and hoarse. "Why  don't you make me?"

"Yeah." He pushed my arms behind my back, clasping my wrists in one  hand, effectively handcuffing me, while wiggling his other hand up my  dress and pressing his thumb to my clit. "Why don't I?"

Normally, being on top would have given me most, if not all, of the  power. That was, after all, one of the highlights of the position. But  the combination of my bound arms and his thumb on the most sensitive  part of my body-at the moment, anyway-produced the exact opposite  feeling.

He controlled the pace-slow, torturous, even as I struggled and strained  for more. He controlled the depth of his thrusts-deep enough to tease  but too shallow for his piercing to make contact with my G-spot again.  He controlled the kiss-long, liquid, seductive enough there was no way  to hold back a moan.

Abraham controlled everything-his body and mine.

And I wanted to hate him for it.

But I didn't.

Instead, I wanted more.

"Please." I might have whispered it. At least I thought I did. Breaking  the kiss but not moving away, I pressed my forehead to his, struggling  to breathe. My only consolation for my weakness was his breathing was as  wrecked as mine. "Abraham, please."

"Please, what?" He twisted his hips, the barbell barely scraping over my  G-spot, pressing his thumb just a little harder against my clit. "Don't  be shy now, Jeannie Jackson. It doesn't suit you."         

     



 

He was right but I'd never begged for an orgasm in my life. It was more  difficult-more humbling-than I would have imagined. Still, given the  choice between a little submissiveness or not reaching the pinnacle of  what I already knew would be a monster orgasm, I'd take the blow to my  pride any day. Swallowing hard, I rasped out, "Please make me come."

"Fuck." I wouldn't have thought it possible but deep inside me, his cock  grew even harder. He tightened his grip on my wrists, shoving me  tighter against him. He bit my lower lip, not deep enough to draw blood  but hard enough the already oversensitive skin began to throb and ache.  "What do I get?"

"Anything." The wrong thing to say. I knew it but I was too desperate,  too far gone, for playing it safe. "Damn it, Abraham, please."

His only response was to arch upward, finally giving me the full length  of his cock, twisting my clit between his thumb and forefinger at the  same time.

If I saw stars before, this time I saw the entirety of the universe, my  entire body going rigid as the orgasm finally, finally, crashed through  me. Some part of me registered the frantic jerks and thrusts of his  hips, the sudden blossoming of warmth inside me as he found his own  release. The larger part of me was struggling to remember the basics  such as breathing.

When he let go of my wrists, I slumped forward, resting my chin on his  shoulder and closing my eyes as a sudden wave of exhaustion swamped me.  He eased his other hand from between our bodies only to rest his palm on  my thigh, the knowledge of why his fingers were so wet bringing a flush  to my cheeks. He slid his hand up my back, palming the nape of my neck,  the tips of his fingers mussing the low bun I'd pulled my hair in to  that morning. After long minutes, he laughed low in his throat.

"What's so funny?" My voice sounded thick and slurred even in my own  ears and I shifted, turning my face in to the curve of his neck. "Hmm?"

"I keep thinking I'm going to show you things. Surprise you." He pulled  the rubber band from my hair, sighing when the somewhat sweaty locks  tumbled around my shoulders. "And then you...."

"Then I what?" I straightened, blowing a loose strand of hair out of my face so I could see him clearly. "Then I what?"

"I don't know." He brushed his lips over mine, light, almost sweet. If  you could ignore the fact we'd just fucked in a car in front of a closed  bar in broad daylight. "You just... I don't know." He sighed again,  shifting his gaze to the back door. "Want to go inside, get a few  drinks, get naked, and see what happens?"

"I think we both know what'll happen with a lack of clothes and an abundance of alcohol."

He lifted a brow. "So is that a ‘no'?"

I managed a throaty laugh. "I didn't say that, did I?"





CHAPTER TWELVE





An hour later, we'd lost the few clothes we'd stumbled in to the  building with and were on our way to being well and truly lit. Abraham  had gone upstairs long enough to get two or three overstuffed quilts and  had thrown them down on the floor behind the bar. I'd pulled the open  bottle of Don Julio off the shelf and he'd retrieved a second unopened  one from the stockroom. It sat off to the side, still unopened, with the  now empty bottle on the blanket between us along with a bag of tortilla  chips and a jar of salsa.