I flash a mischievous smile, then shift my position so that I am kneeling on the floorboard of the limo, my hands resting on his thighs. “But perhaps I might file one tiny change order?” My fingers make swift work of the button fly of his jeans.
“Nikki . . . ” His voice is full of heat and amusement and a hint of warning.
“What? I mean, fair is fair. You’ve never fingerfucked me in a club in Munich before tonight. And unless I’m mistaken, I’ve never gone down on you in a moving limo in Munich, either. That’s one of those oversights I want to remedy right now.”
I slide my hand into his jeans, relishing his low groan as I stroke and tease, working my way into the fly of his briefs. He’s deliciously hard, and I only have to shift his cock a little before it springs free, as excited about the possibilities as I am. Slowly, I bend my head, but lift my eyes, so that I am looking at Damien’s face as I gently brush the tip of my tongue over his glans.
I see the shudder that runs through him, and something swells inside me. Lust, power, possessiveness. Control. I know it drives him insane not to be firmly in charge. And I also know that of all the people in his life, I’m the only one to whom he willingly abdicates that control. In small doses, yes. But I still get my moments.
This is one of them.
“Dear God, Nikki,” he says, his voice tight. “Sometimes you surprise the hell out of me.”
I only smile. I want to taste him, to touch him, and there is nothing keeping me from taking exactly what I want. Gently, I circle the base of his cock with my hand, the sensation like soft steel against my palm. I press my lips to the head of his cock, then draw him in, my tongue teasing him as I piston my mouth in time with the strokes of my hand against him.
He is already desperately hard, but I feel his body responding, tightening. I hear his low groans. I feel his fingers twining in my hair, then the tension filling his body as he comes closer and closer, and I know that I am doing that to him.
The knowledge empowers me, and I think of my earlier fears about reality sneaking in and breaking through our perfect little plastic bubble of a life. In this moment, though, my fears seem a million miles away.
A ripple of passion cuts through him, and I feel the corresponding pressure in my sex as my body responds to his desire and to the knowledge that I have brought him to the brink.
A sensual hunger courses through me, my own arousal as potent as if his fingers were stroking me. I writhe a bit, wriggling my hips in time with the need growing inside me. I am smug with satisfaction and ripe with the knowledge that Damien is as turned on as I am.
And then I’m shocked as hell when his hands close around my ribs and he lifts me up—then dumps me back on the seat and hooks my legs over his shoulders.
“What are you—” But I don’t bother to finish the question. I know exactly what he’s doing, and I’m proven right when he leans forward, his hands stroking my thighs in time with the movement. His laves his tongue over the delicate skin right next to the edge of my thong.
A tremor runs through my body. “Damien,” I moan. “Holy shit.”
“Hold still.” His breath burns hot upon my sex. “Don’t move,” he demands, and then ensures that there is no way I can obey when he simultaneously flips on the vibrator in my ass, but also nips at the thong with his teeth, teasing my clit in the process.
I cry out and arch up, both in surprise and from the nearly unendurable sensations that are ricocheting through my body.
“Naughty,” Damien says as he turns off the vibration, then cups my ass with his hands. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
I see the devious gleam in his eye and swallow. “I’ll be still.”
“Too late,” he says, then removes the plug, sending another wave of sensations rolling through me as my body rocks in protest. He smiles as he wraps it in a handkerchief and slips it in his pocket. “I think someone likes my toys,” he says. “I’ll have to think of more ways to play.”
“Oh, God, yes,” I say impulsively, eager for whatever he wants to bring on.
He slides down my body, trailing kisses along my left leg as he eases down my stocking until he reaches the strap of my shoe. “This should do nicely.”
I bite my lip, uncertain what he has in mind. “You realize that if you mess up my shoes, you’re in serious trouble.”
“Even if it gets you off?” He strokes my foot along the side of the arch, which is exposed in these shoes.
I close my eyes, trying to think despite this assault upon a deliciously new erogenous zone. “Some things are as sacred as sex,” I say. “Shoes among them.”
He chuckles. “Touché, Ms. Fairchild.” I feel his lips press where his finger once was and have to bite my lip in order to remain still as ordered. “I’ll be gentle.”
My eyes widen as he takes the seat belt and wraps it around my ankle. He clicks the buckle into place, then tightens the strap. After that, he flashes me a smug grin. “One down.”
I am speechless. I’m also unable to move my left leg. “Damien,” I begin, but there’s no point in protesting. He’s not going to stop. And the truth is that I don’t want him to.
“Now let’s see what we can do about this one.” I remember that this limo is part of the Stark International fleet when he moves without hesitation to a camouflaged floor panel. He pulls it open and removes a white box emblazoned with a red cross.
I prop myself up on my elbows. “First aid? What exactly are you doing?” I’m teasing, of course. Well, mostly teasing.