Lauren Blakely - Night After Night

Her breath caught as he started to open her jacket, first one button, then the next, then another. As he worked his way up her chest, undoing the final button, she rolled her eyes in pleasure, closing them briefly as he slid a hand over her right breast, squeezing her.

She stifled a gasp, biting her lip.

“Don’t pretend you’re not turned on.”

“I’m not pretending,” she whispered.

“Then let me hear you moan. I want to hear everything.” She opened her eyes, as he cupped her breasts over the fabric of her clingy sweater. “Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

He glanced down at her short black skirt, already rising up to show more of her strong, shapely thighs. He desperately wanted to slide his hand under her skirt right the fuck now, but patience would be rewarded. “When did you start getting wet?”

“The exact moment?”

“Yes.”

“On the plane.”

“What were you thinking about at 30,000 feet that was getting you wet?” he asked, as his hand drifted down the front of her sweater, traveling over her flat belly.

“About all the things you might say to me.”

“You like the way I talk to you?”

“Why don’t you check and see how much I like it?”

“Why don’t you wait for me to check,” he fired back as he reached under her sweater, spreading his hand across the soft, sweet flesh of her stomach. She moaned as he touched her, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get enough of those sounds this weekend. He might have to spend the next forty-eight hours making her gasp and moan, groan and scream, because her noises were better than a cold drink on a hot day. The sounds she made fed him.

He ran his callused fingers along the waistband of her skirt, and she wiggled closer to his hand. “So your panties were damp all during the flight, Julia?”

“I wouldn’t say the whole flight. I have control, you know,” she said, shooting him that tough stare that turned him on even more.

“I know you do. You have excellent control. And I love breaking it down. I love watching you lose control,” he said, dipping his hand inside her skirt. “So tell me what you thought about on the plane that aroused you.”

“Your mouth,” she said in a rough whisper.

“Nice answer.” He trailed his fingers along the top of her panties, and her hips arched closer.

“Got any other questions for me?”

He nodded. “Did you get wetter when you saw me? Tell me the truth,” he said, pulling his hand out of her skirt. She looked up at him, wide eyes full of need.

“What do you think?” She reached for his hand, locking fingers with him. She tried to tug his hand down to her legs, but he didn’t budge.

“I think you’re as hot between your legs as I am hard just from looking at you,” he said and brought her hand to his erection, letting her press her palm against him. She grinned as she touched him, stroking him. He hissed in a breath, but then moved her hand away. “So tell me. Did I make you wetter when you saw me?”

“Yes. You leaning against the car with that tie all loosened and your jacket on, looking like a hot guy in a suit. Only I knew you weren’t thinking of business deals, you were thinking of bedroom deals.”

“I was watching you the whole time, getting harder as you walked toward me. Seeing you wore what I told you to wear,” he said, teasing with the top of her lacy stockings. He could feel her heat without even touching her. He bent his head to her neck, flicking his tongue against her collar bone, then up to her ear. “Tell me one word to describe how wet you are now.”

“What is this? Mad Libs foreplay?” She said in as challenging a tone as she could likely muster. He was impressed with her fierceness. She didn’t give it up easily, even as her body was melting under his touch. He traveled higher with his fingers, inching closer to the promised land.

“Yes it is. Now, I want one word,” he said firmly, giving her a clear command. He stroked the soft skin of her inner thigh, causing her to quiver.

“Soaked,” she said, breathing hard.

“No, your panties are soaked. I want to know about your pussy. One word about your beautiful pussy that I have been thinking about all week long.”

“Slippery. Does that work for your little wordplay, Clay?”

“It does. Did anyone else on the plane know you were so turned on?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Because I fucking love the image I have in my head now. You flying high above the country, your sexy legs crossed, trying to hold in how much you wanted me to touch you. Not being able to touch yourself, but wanting to so badly. Did you want to masturbate on the plane?”

“No. I wanted you to touch me. I was waiting for you to touch me.”

“I’m not going to make you wait any longer.”

She grabbed his arm, wrapping her hand around his bicep, sending him some kind of message with sharp nails that dug into him, likely right along his tattoo. “You better not make me wait any longer.”

He dragged one finger against the cotton panel of her panties, and a growl erupted from him. A long, slow, appreciative growl. Her breathing grew harder, nearing a pant as he stroked her. “I was wrong,” he said in a low voice.

“About what?”

“You are fucking soaked, and I can’t let you sit like this. I can’t let this delicious wetness go to waste,” he said, reaching under her skirt with both hands, and tugging her panties down past her knees. He stopped at her ankles, and she arched an eyebrow in question.

“The panties stay here. I want to hold your ankles in place.”

“You weren’t kidding when you told me what was on the menu this weekend,” she said, her lips curving up in a delicious grin.

“I take my restraints very seriously,” he said, twisting her panties in his hand, tightening the hold on her feet.

Keeping the underwear in place, he ran his fingers across her sweet, slippery pussy, watching her mouth fall open, and her eyes drift closed. “It would be so wrong of me to just finger you,” he mused playfully as he coated his fingers in her wetness.

“Are you going to fuck me then?” Her voice was so desperate, her body so in need of what he planned to give her.

“I’m going to fuck you with my tongue,” he said, letting go of the scrap of fabric to grab her hips and slide her down onto the seat. He spread her open as he pushed his leg down hard on her panties to keep her high-heeled feet bound together. He was ready, so ready, to taste his woman. “The last time I did this to you, I tied you up, Julia. But this time I want your hands free to grab my face, pull hard on my hair, do whatever you need to do. You can fuck my face hard. When I get out of this car, I want to look like a man who was eating pussy.”

“Oh god,” she gasped as her head fell back against the seat.

He buried his face between her legs, and she cried out. A loud, no-holds-barred yell that echoed off the windows of the car, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. She gripped his head with her strong thighs, an involuntary reaction to the first touch as he licked her. Then she let her knees fall open for him and he savored her, working her up and down with his tongue, his lips, his mouth. He lapped up all her juices, the taste of her intoxicating and making his cock even harder, if that were possible.

He drove his tongue inside her, setting off another shattering moan that was music to his ears. She was quite an instrument to play, so finely tuned, and if he touched her right, she made the most glorious sounds – raw, intense, absolutely delicious noises of pleasure as he plundered her with his tongue. She grabbed his hair, yanked and pulled him closer as he’d told her to do. She started rocking her hips against his face, her exquisite pussy rubbing all over his stubbled jaw. She moved faster, and harder, and she was fucking him furiously right now, taking charge of how she liked it, her breathing turning wildly erratic, her moans signaling how close she was to release. He thrust one finger inside her, crooking it and hitting her in the spot that turned her moans into one long, high-pitched orgasm. She shuddered against him, her legs quaking, and when he finally slowed to look up at her, he saw her hair was a wild tumble, and her face was glowing.

He watched her reactions, enjoying the way the aftershocks seemed to radiate through her body, like waves. He moved to the seat, slid alongside her, and pulled her close, tucking her sexy body against his.

“Forgive my manners. I didn’t even ask how your flight was.”

“It was worth it, Clay. My flight was worth it.”

They barely made it inside his apartment. Before the door even closed, he’d hiked up her skirt. Were they on the fourth floor? Or the fifth floor? Hell if she knew. Hell if she cared.

She grappled with the zipper on his pants, tugging and pulling as he caged her in against the wall with his strong arms. She pushed his pants down, then his briefs, and she wrapped an eager hand around his cock, hot and throbbing in her palm. He drew a sharp breath at the first touch, and she loved this; the moment when a man was helpless to her touch. When the control all swung back to her. They were so simple, men. When it came down to it, they were ruled by their erections. Even when she gave in to a man, she still knew who was always in charge. She was, the woman was. Especially as she watched the expression on his gorgeous face, his eyes rolling back in his head as she stroked him. He rocked into her fist, fucking her hand once, twice, three times.

She dipped her free hand into her sweater, then inside the cup of her bra, hunting out the condom she’d stowed there earlier. Never could be too safe or too ready, she reasoned.