Dirty Pleasures (Page 18)
“Hands on the table.”
She complies, and her big brown eyes stare back at me in the reflection of the mirror.
“Spread your legs.”
One bare foot slides a few inches to the right.
Her other foot slides a few inches to the left. I step between her legs, pressing a hand to her lower back, and push her feet apart.
She’s still wearing a tiny thong, and I don’t hesitate to give the waistband a tug to snap it. Through every movement, we never break eye contact. I flick open the button of my jeans and unzip, freeing my cock. I’m already rock hard and dying to be inside her.
I fist my dick and say, “Be quiet, or I’ll have to gag you. Do you understand?” I don’t carry a gag in my pocket, but I’m sure I could find an adequate substitute.
“I can be quiet,” she whispers.
“Yes. Please. I need you.”
The grin that stretches across my face reflects back at me as I stare into her eyes. “You better hold on, baby, and be quiet. Because I’m going to do everything I can to make you scream my name.”
I fit myself to her entrance and drive into her soaked pussy. Our groans echo in the small room before we both stifle them. Gripping her with both hands, I pull out and thrust again and again into the tightest, sweetest cunt I’ve ever had the pleasure to fuck.
And it’s all mine. Mine. I don’t even realize I’ve said the word aloud until I see Holly’s eyes flash in the mirror and she mouths the word yours.
Wanting her mindless with pleasure, I vary my strokes. As I find her clit with my fingers, it doesn’t take much for me to push her over the edge into a silent orgasm. I follow, just as silently, and hate that I’m not able to yell her name as I empty myself inside her.
She’s slumped on the vanity when I pull out, and I use her wrecked thong to catch my cum as it slips out of her. I meet her eyes again in the mirror. They’re bright and fevered, and I want to turn her around and fuck her again, but she says, “I’ve never wanted to skip a meet and greet before. Never. But right now . . . damn it. I can’t.”
“It’s okay. You have more underwear?” She shakes her head, and I swear. “And you think you’re going out there in front of all those people with nothing on under that dress? No fucking way. Not a goddamn chance.”
Her laugh is low and husky, and my dick perks up again at the sound. “You know I’m fucking with you, right? I have Spanx that go on under it. Not as sexy, but definitely required.”
I open my mouth to say something else, but a knock followed by the sound of the door handle jiggling stalls my words. Tossing her panties into the trash, I go answer it while she retrieves her Spanx.
The woman from earlier looks put out that the door is locked. She looks even more put out when I won’t let her in.
“Give us another minute.”
She bristles. “She’s going to be late if she doesn’t hurry.”
“Two fucking minutes. I’m not asking.”
“Fine. But hurry.”
I shut the door in her face, resisting the urge to slam it. I don’t like that woman. At all. I have to remind myself that she’s just doing her job, and her job is to help Holly. For that, I won’t do whatever I would need to in order to get her ass fired.
I turn and once again, Holly has her back to me, waiting for assistance with the zipper. I slide it up, my eyes drinking in the smooth skin that was under my palms only minutes ago. She does a sexy little shimmy and straightens the dress before reaching for her boots. She slides her feet in one at a time and turns to me, and her bright pink lips curve into a shy smile.
The shyness is ironic considering what we just did.
“How do I look?”
I take her in from head to toe. Dark waves that curl to midway down her back. Snapping brown eyes with thick black lashes. The slick pink lips I’d like wrapped around my cock. A tiny silver excuse for a dress barely covering curves that could stop traffic. Toned legs I want my face between. Turquoise cowboy boots with black-and-silver angel wings embroidered on them that I’d probably let walk all over me.
Christ, this woman is like none other; she’s a complete contradiction. An innocent sex kitten. A tentative temptress. My every fantasy wrapped up in a package that’s more dangerous to handle than dynamite.
“You look fucking beautiful. If I didn’t give a shit about your career, I’d kidnap you and drag you off to some harem in the desert where men can still own women like property.” I shake my head. “You need to get out of this room before I can’t let you leave.”
Her eyes, still bright from her orgasm, blink twice before she swallows and crosses to the door.
I follow her out into the hallway, and the dingy gray walls are blocked by three security guys the size of the Alps. They eye me suspiciously, and I return the favor. I don’t like the idea of people who aren’t on my payroll protecting her. That needs to be remedied. Holly’s too precious to put at risk.
As it turns out, I have more reason to be concerned because they aren’t there to protect her; they’re forming a wall around Boone Thrasher.
Two women are being dragged down the hallway screaming, “Boone! We love you!”
He’s holding a red lacy bra in one hand and a black thong in the other. He tosses both to one of the security guys. The man looks less than thrilled to be handling what was presumably covering some women’s tits and ass until just recently.
“Do . . . whatever you do with this shit,” he grunts.