“Perfect,” he whispered, and she realized that her face was right in front of his zipper, and the fabric of his slacks was obviously stretched to the limit.
“Undo my pants. Hold me in your hands.”
Her breath whooshed in. She was about to see this man, feel him. This was it. There was no turning back once she did this, not that she’d been able to turn back from the moment she’d set foot inside his car.
Without a word, she tugged his button free, and then slowly drew the zipper down. Excitement built inside her, higher and higher, in anticipation of seeing him. She should hate him, hate this moment, but she felt perversely intrigued.
Pulling his pants open, she freed him from the confines of his cotton briefs, and…oh my. Another, greater wave of panic seized her as she stared at the solid length now resting in her palm. She couldn’t wrap her fingers completely around his arousal, and if he couldn’t even fit in her fist, how in the world would he ever fit in her body? She unconsciously squeezed him, and was rewarded by a low groan rumbling from his throat.
“Make me come.”
Despite his whispering, his words came through loud and clear, but she could also hear the tension in his voice. He wanted her to believe he was in total control, but this man, a man who liked so much to issue orders, was shaking beneath her touch.
That knowledge gave her more confidence than anything else could. Without waiting for his next command, she slid her palm over the slick tip of his shaft, and she used his own lubrication as her hand glided up and down its length. When his breathing quickened and she began moving faster, she knew it wouldn’t take her long to learn what would make him explode.
Yes, she might not have done this before, but his sighs and his praise told her what he liked, told her to move faster, to brush her thumb over his sensitive tip, to hold him tightly in her palm.
“Your mouth. I want your mouth on me,” he groaned, throwing back his head and breathing heavily. She leaned forward and took two inches of his arousal inside the warm recesses of her mouth.
As she sucked hard and continued to stroke him with one hand, while steadying herself on his body with the other, his pleasure resounded off the parking garage walls, and, even more encouraged, she took him deeper into her mouth. She felt him pulse, and her sighs mixed with his when his warm release coated her tongue and throat. His ecstatic groans sent euphoria through her entire body. She continued sucking him, intent on drawing out the last of his release, and then she slowly pulled back to look up at the man she’d pleasured — the first man. He leaned back farther against the car, and a sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead as he returned her look.
When several moments passed and her thighs began to wobble from the strain of her position, she wanted to get up but was afraid to do something wrong, something that would make him punish her by keeping her right there. As much as her body was screaming for something she didn’t understand, she wanted out of this very public place. If she was going to lose her virginity to this man, she would much, much rather have it happen behind closed doors.
“Stand up.”
Because her muscles were overworked, this command was more difficult to do, but she used his body as leverage and hoisted herself up, then took a second to stabilize herself before she retreated a step backward as he pulled his clothing back into place.
“You’ve done better than I expected,” he told her before looking at her pile of clothes. “Get dressed. It’s time to go inside and finish this.”
With that, he turned away from her and began walking toward what seemed to be a private elevator in the corner. Terrified he would leave her there, she quickly threw on her outer clothes, clutching her underclothes tightly in her hands as she chased after him, adjusting her blouse while stepping behind him into the elevator.
Fear had become a constant inside her, but fear wasn’t the only thing she was feeling right now — her body was burning with need, a need she’d never before experienced. Her thighs clenched together and she wondered what was wrong with her that she didn’t feel any shame after what had just happened.
Maybe it was the circumstances of being where she was with a man such as him, or maybe she didn’t think she should feel anything other than concern for her brother, but whatever it was, her heart pounded when the doors to the elevator opened and she stepped out along with Blake.
She feared that very soon she’d learn more about herself than she wanted to. Would she ever be able to look into the mirror again?
Chapter Eight
Though Blake had disguised his emotions like a professional poker player, he was shaken up. Yes, he was no newcomer to sexual pleasure — in fact, he’d thought he’d seen and felt it all. But when Jewell had performed her striptease for him, at his command, he’d had to force himself not to reach out for her.
He’d nearly lost control when she lowered herself to the ground and her sweet plump lips had closed around the head of his arousal. That just didn’t happen to him — he was always in complete command of his emotions. He wouldn’t allow himself to slip again.
He couldn’t escape her tantalizing scent as she stood silently beside him and finished adjusting her clothes. Unable to help himself, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. Although she’d just given him a mind-blowing orgasm, he wanted more. He wanted to feel himself sinking deep within her heat, feel her body cradling him.
Yes, Blake loved sex. He loved all sorts of sex, loved how for ten seconds the only thing he felt was pleasure — no stress, no worries, no thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow. That was his haven in a world that had been less than good to him.
And yes, he enjoyed the buildup to sex. He loved the way it felt to caress a woman’s body, to taste every inch of her skin, to hear her sounds as she was being pleasured. But something was different with the woman standing next to him. He wanted more, and that was unacceptable. She was basically a prostitute, a woman he’d paid for.
Most women were, though, weren’t they? It didn’t matter what their profession was. In the end they were all willing to use what turned men on to get an advantage, to get whatever they could.
He closed his eyes and was suddenly assailed by the sound of his mother screaming in pain. Snapping his eyes back open, he shook his head and forced out the eerie note of her dying voice.
It had been twenty-five years, and the anniversary of their death was approaching. He knew what that meant. He knew the next week was going to be hell. It didn’t matter how much he hardened himself. Nothing helped. Therapists had told him that time healed all wounds — they’d lied.