4 The Billionaire's Seduction All That He Requires (13 page)

He laughed, then settled into a grin. “So… what are you going to do for
me?”

A seductive smile slowly dawned on my face, and I looked down at his pants.

There was a
very
large shape pressing beneath the cloth, sort of at an angle. It looked incredibly uncomfortable for him, poor boy.

Time to make it MORE uncomfortable.

I unbuckled my seat belt (which, I might add, freaked me out a bit, but… oh well. Living dangerously and all that) and slid a bit closer to him – as close as I could manage with the car’s center console in the way.

I moved my hand over to his lap and let my fingers rest on his upper thigh. Then, with the tip of one fingernail, I slowly brushed that massive shape inside his pants, generating the slightest bit of friction against the cloth.

He lost his smile and got a look of severe tension on his face as he stared straight ahead at the road.

“On the phone, you said you wanted me to hold your cock… didn’t you?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

“Didn’t you?” I asked louder.

“…yes,” he said.

Now the tables were reversed.

I grinned.

I started stroking the shape in his pants with my fingertips, slowly, tracing from the base up to the head, then slowly back down.

“You said you wanted me to stroke your cock for you… didn’t you?” I purred.

“…yes,” he whispered.

My fingertips found the zipper on his fly, and I slowly pulled it down.

Ziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip.

But I didn’t do anything else.

“You said you wanted me to use my gorgeous little mouth on that big, thick cock of yours, didn’t you?”

His face looked like he was in serious pain. He stared straight ahead at the road like he couldn’t afford to do anything else, or he would be lost.

“…yes,” he whispered.

I put my fingers inside the fly of his pants and slowly probed until I found the front flap of his boxers.

Then I eased my fingers in until I touched hot, scalding skin.

“Unh,” he groaned, and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

“You sure do talk big for a guy who doesn’t want to be photographed on the top of a thirty-story building,” I teased.

“That’s not true. Last night – ”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot… you’ll have sex outdoors if you’re a thousand miles away, out in the desert, in the middle of the night.”

“You didn’t enjoy it?”

“Oh, I
loved
it. But something tells me you’re not exactly Mr. Risk Taker when it comes to getting caught.”

“Oh really?” he grinned, and then the grin faded to an open mouth and a feverish frown as I stroked his shaft again. Only a few inches, up and down – I couldn’t reach any further than that because of the pressure of his pants against my fingers.

“Please,” he said urgently.

“Please what?” I teased.

“Do it.”

“Do what?” I asked, as though I was soooo innocent and had absolutely
no
idea what he was talking about.

And I stopped stroking him when I said it.

“Keep going,” he choked out.

“You mean… this?” I asked, and slowly stroked again.

“More,” he whispered.

“Even though we’re driving in a car in the middle of the day where everybody can see us?”

He paused, as though thinking it over.

I suddenly felt alarmed, as though I might have just killed the moment.

Don’t stop,
I pleaded in my head.
Don’t stop –

“Yes,” he finally whispered. “Keep going.”

I figured I wouldn’t push my luck any more than I already had, so I just shut up and let my fingers do the talking.

I pulled my hand away from his fly, grasped his belt, and unbuckled it. Then I unbuttoned the top of his pants. It took some doing – I’m not the most adroit or practiced girl in these types of situations – but I think I did relatively well.

His pants almost popped open from the straining pressure inside.

Now I had more room to play.

I put my fingers inside his boxers again, and caressed his entire rock-hard shaft all the way up to his swollen head.

Damn, I wasn’t the only one who was wet.

He had soaked the top of his boxers with his own juices, he had been so turned on.

“Did I do this to you?” I whispered, letting my fingers glide over his slick, wet skin.

“Yes,” he nodded, his eyes intent on the road.

“Do you like thinking about my…”

I didn’t want to say it – it was too much –

You’re a bad girl now, or don’t you remember that?
a little voice said gleefully in my head.

 I guess I better talk like one, then,
I answered back.

“…my little wet pussy?” I whispered in his ear.

He groaned.

My fingers were wet with him now, and I let them glide over the underside of his shaft. The sensation of my skin slick and slippery over his was
amazing.

“Do you like thinking about putting that big… thick… amazing cock… inside me?” I purred as I slowly stroked him up and down.

His arms were trembling as he gripped the wheel of the car.

“Yes,” he said savagely.

I let my fingers glide back up to the top of his shaft and rubbed my thumb over the head, slicking the swollen skin with his own pre-cum, massaging him, enveloping him, teasing him, pleasing him… all incredibly slowly.

I could feel his manhood straining, harder than I’d ever felt it before.

“Do you like thinking about making me come with that loooong… thick cock of yours?” I whispered.

His eyes rolled briefly back in his head, and he forced himself to focus again on the road.

“Yes,” he gasped.

I leaned way over and used my other hand to rearrange his boxers so that his shaft was finally freed through the flap in the front.

God, it was gorgeous.

Held in place by the cloth, it was standing straight up, a beautiful, sculpted piece of art – perfectly pink, very long, mouthwateringly thick. His balls were still in his boxers, so there was nothing but a long, uninterrupted, silky smooth column of pure sex.

I caressed him again, slowly up and down. His shaft contracted violently, just once, a single tremor, and a tiny bead of clear dew eased up from the tip of his swollen head.

I thought about using it to continue slicking him down with my hand – and then decided, no, I wanted to taste him instead.

I bent over the middle console, which was incredibly uncomfortable.

But the rewards were worth it.

After a bit of negotiating, I got my mouth right above his swollen head.

I used my tongue to swirl around the soft, hot skin… and then slowly took his head in my mouth, salty and wet and slippery against my tongue.

God I loved feeling him in my mouth. Just the softness of his skin… the heat of his skin on mine… the wet, sensual feel of my lips surrounding him…

And I
loved
hearing him. He was groaning now, moaning, a desperate man caught between pleasure and a burning need for more.

I was starting to
really
get turned on again.

I slowly moved down on him, letting my lips slide over his wet skin, taking him as far in my mouth as I dared. I was at an odd angle, it was uncomfortable, and he
was
incredibly large… I could only do so much.

That, apparently, was enough.

He grunted as I moved up and down, slowly, teasing him with my tongue. I took him out of my mouth, then brushed my wet lips down the underside of his shaft, taking extra care on the ridge of skin just beneath the head.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

I settled the side of my head into his lap, my right ear between his legs, and worked my tongue down around the base of his cock, probing into the folds of cloth, seeing how deeply down there I could lick –

And then I felt the car change course.

He turned the steering wheel and accelerated a little too quickly.

I looked up at him, which was a bit comical considering where my head was, and what was just a few millimeters away from it.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I have to have you. NOW,” he said, his face wild and furious, his eyes intent on the road.

“Are we at the hotel?!” I asked, fear freezing my stomach.

“No,” he said, his voice husky and low.

“Ummm…”

This was a little alarming.

I pushed up on my arms and raised myself from his lap, then looked out the window, hoping to God nobody would see the worst cliché in the world: gorgeous guy in Lamborghini, disheveled chick rising up from his lap.

We were away from the Strip and the crowds. I wouldn’t call where we were ‘seedy,’ but it wasn’t nearly as glitzy as the main drag. Not nearly as tacky, either. Vegas by night is a wonderland of lights; Vegas by day is a monument to excess and the question ‘Did they really think that would look
good?’

We were outside something that looked like a condo or a timeshare – a bunch of tan, nondescript buildings. More subdued, not as tacky, pretty boring.

Not many cars were in the parking lot. Nobody was walking around outside, either. I guess they were all down at the main drag, and this was where they came to sleep.

“What are we doing here?”

Connor parked the Lamborghini, then hastily stuffed his erection back into his pants. It was kind of a process, considering how much there was to work with.

“I told you – I need you. NOW.”

There was something animalistic in his voice, a tone that was absolutely
not
going to be denied.

It was a little scary.

And very, very hot.

“What – here in the car?” I asked, freaking out – and puzzled, too.
Why’s he zipping up if he wants to do it in here?

“No,” he said simply as he buttoned and zipped up. The head of his shaft protruded beyond the beltline of his pants, but it was hidden by his tucked-in shirt. I only know because I had watched him rearrange himself.

I
so
wanted to reach out and touch him again, but he was already out the door, slamming it, and then walking around to my side.

He yanked the passenger door open, reached down, and took my hand. He didn’t hurt me, but he was
very
firm
about it as he dragged me out.

The heat slammed into me like he’d just opened an oven.

I staggered onto my feet as he shut the door and locked it with his keychain remote. Then he started pulling me towards the building.

“Wait – what are we doing?”

“I told you – I need to fuck you
now.
”

My breath caught in my throat, and my already drenched panties got a little wetter.

“Do you have a place here?” I asked. The idea seemed a little ludicrous – Connor was strictly a
Nothing but the best will do
kind of guy, and this place seemed more suited to my budget back when I was still a struggling secretary.

Like, yesterday morning.

“No,” he said as he dragged me up the sidewalk.

“Well then where are we going?” I asked, my panic slowly beginning to rise as I figured out what he had in mind.

On the backside of the building, all the ground-floor units had a series of patios that opened out onto a sidewalk and a grassy area.

I was guessing the sidewalk led to a pool – which meant a moderately high-traffic area.

Even though the place was deserted.

The patios were like little enclosed courtyards, maybe fifteen feet on each side, surrounded by six-foot high stucco walls, with sliding glass doors that led into the apartment. There was a tiny gap in the wall so you could go in and out of the patio, but there weren’t any doors or gates. Anybody could walk into one from the outside.

They were somewhat secluded, in theory – I mean, you could lounge out in your bathing suit, if you wanted, or chat with friends around the glass table with its giant umbrella in the center. But anybody walking by could see what was going on inside the patio. Maybe not back in some of the corners… but you would still get a fleeting glimpse.

Connor was walking past the open doorways and glancing inside.

No one was in any of them. All away at the pool or the casinos, I guessed. But there were signs of life: beach towels drying in the sun, empty beer bottles, long-dead cigarette butts in ashtrays.

At the fifth patio, there was nothing inside – no towels, no bottles, no ashtrays. The blinds were open on the sliding glass doors, and we could see the room was dark, the bed was made up, and there were no suitcases or anything else that might suggest an occupant.

Connor pulled me inside the patio.

“OH NO,” I said, shaking my head.

In answer, he pulled me into the corner, out of sight of anyone casually strolling by, and kissed me.

Hot.

Feverishly.

Lustfully.

It took my breath away.

I couldn’t help myself. I opened my mouth to him, letting him inside me.

He grabbed my waist and pulled me against his body. I could feel the rock-hard pressure of his manhood against my belly. His large, powerful hands grabbed my ass and squeezed tight.

I broke off the kiss. “Connor, no.”

One of his hands ran through my hair, grabbed me at the nape of the neck and pulled down so that my neck was exposed.

The feeling of submission and complete vulnerability was overpowering…

…and an incredible turn-on.

“Please,” he whispered in my ear before he lowered his head and began kissing me frantically on my neck, running his lips along my skin.

My eyes closed and I gasped. He was everywhere, firing my desire with his increasing urgency: his lips on my neck, then his tongue caressing my earlobe, as one hand cupped my ass and the other found its way to my breast.

“Connor,” I whispered. I was trying to protest, but the desire building up in me was overwhelming my ability to speak.

His fingers pulled roughly at my dress and bra straps and tugged down until my left breast was exposed.

That broke the spell.

Barely.

“Connor, no!” I gasped, craning my head around him to look out the patio door.

Nobody was out there.

“Please, Lily,
please,
” he whispered in my ear. “I know this isn’t last night, and I won’t do anything you don’t want me to – but
please.”

When I didn’t say anything in response, he lowered his lips to my breast and began to greedily suck.

“Oh God oh God,” I moaned as his tongue swirled around my nipple and both hands clutched feverishly at my ass.

The spell was back on…

…mostly.

My eyes would close in ecstasy, then flutter open in panic, looking for someone to pop their head in through the patio doorway.

No one did.

His hands roamed under the hem of my dress and slid up my thighs, pushing the dress up to my hips.

“No!” I whispered, batting his hands away.

He raised his head and looked straight in my eyes. They were almost demented in their need – and as I stared into their sapphire depths, I felt my resolve slowly slipping away.

“Please, Lily,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Please, I’m
begging
you.
Please
let me fuck you.”

Ohhhhhhhh my God.

Please let me fuck you.

My knees trembled when he said that.

“But… someone might see…” I whispered, fearful. “We might get caught.”

The wild, animal expression of lust suddenly broke into the roguish grin I knew so well.

“That’s half the fun,” he said, and lowered his tongue again to my breast.

I moaned, then tried to form a coherent sentence. “…getting caught is fun…?”

He lifted his lips back up to my neck, caressed my ear with his lips, and whispered, “No… the
danger
of getting caught.”

After that, there was no way possible I could have said no.

The idea of it – of someone seeing us – was like gasoline on the fire raging inside me.

I was scared to death of it –

And yet, a deep, primal part of me
wanted
it.

Wanted someone to catch us.

Wanted someone to see this gorgeous, incredible, powerful man
fucking
me.

“Will you let me?” he growled into my ear, soft and dangerous and insanely hot. “Please. Please, Lily –
please
let me fuck you.”

I closed my eyes and dug my fingernails into his shoulders.

“…yes,” I whispered.

His mouth met mine, and he kissed me again, his tongue meeting mine, his lips possessing mine.

Then he tugged down on the right side of my dress and completely exposed both my breasts.

As he bent and sucked greedily again, switching blissfully from one nipple to the other, I felt his fingers hook through my panties and pull them down around my thighs.

I opened my eyes again and looked, terrified, to see if someone was outside the patio.

We were still alone.

I pressed my legs close together so he could tug my panties away more easily, and felt the damp cloth slide against my skin.

He bunched the black lace in his hand and shoved it in his pocket. Then he unzipped his pants, hitched backwards a little to give himself more room, and pulled out his cock.

I watched, fascinated, as his fingers grasped the thick base – and then I moaned as he pressed the tip against me.

The swollen head, still wet from his pre-cum, glided across my drenched lips. Then he moved the crown upwards, pressing against my clit, sliding up and down. No matter how rock-hard it looked, the tip was soft – firm, but soft – and the pressure sent a surge of pleasure through my whole body.

Then he let go of his shaft, put a hand under each of my cheeks, and lifted me effortlessly into the air.

I circled my arms around his neck and bit my lip as I stared into his eyes.

I felt something firm and wet hit the inside of my thigh – then slide across my skin – and then, finally, part my lips.

OH GOD.

Then he slowly lowered me down on him, his full length reaching deep inside me, his thickness totally filling me up.

I cried out loud with joy and raked my fingers down the back of his sports jacket.

The blissful fullness… that sweet pressure of being completely filled up… every inch of him pressing against me, inside me, with me – like liquid honey and sugar and chocolate and every sweet-tasting thing transformed into sensation, into sweet, sweet touch –

And then he began to fuck me.

Unnnnnnnhhhhhhh…

This wasn’t the gentle, sweet Connor, taking his time.

This was a beast unleashed.

And oh my GOD if I didn’t love it.

Just feeling his frenzy, hearing his guttural noises as he thrust deep within me – knowing the animal passion I was inspiring in him –

It brought out the animal in me.

And I started fucking him back.

I mean, he was in total control; he held my body effortlessly as he filled me over and over again.

But I raked my nails across his back, through his hair, bit his neck, could barely contain myself. I felt like something had been unleashed in me, and I couldn’t get enough of him, of his touch, of his smell, of his taste, of his skin, of his cock.

I cried out with every jolt of his body slapping my ass – not ladylike, sensual moans, but animal noises, high-pitched cries and groans and grunts, as I felt my pleasure spiraling higher and higher –

And then I came, gloriously, overpoweringly, a massive roll of thunder that shook me to my core, not stopping, kept coming with every glorious stroke and thrust of Connor inside me, lifting me higher and higher into bliss –

And then my orgasm began to subside, with longer spaces between the contractions, but Connor wasn’t letting up. I felt like I might come again – I felt myself start to lift again, felt the pleasure building, amazed that this could be happening –

And then I opened my eyes.

There was someone out on the path staring in.

It wasn’t like they had poked their head in; it’s just that the angle where they were standing allowed them to glance in and get a peek. Not much, but enough to see what was going on.

There were two people, actually, but I only saw the woman first.

She was probably about my age, and she was beautiful. She had black hair, with pretty features and big green eyes and tan skin. She was wearing a bikini top that barely covered her. She had a slim, Pilates-sculpted stomach, with a kind of sarong wrapped around her hips and a tiny diamond bellybutton piercing.

She looked like she’d been a popular girl in school – one of the beautiful people.

And she was staring at me, watching me in the throes of passion.

And I could see, despite the shocked expression and her mouth being slightly open –

That she wanted to
be
me.

She was looking at me with wonder, and jealousy, and longing.

Maybe it was the back of Connor’s head, or the broad, powerful shoulders, or his perfect ass in his $5000 suit… but I could see her look him over, and then at me, and I could see that she wanted to be exactly where I was.

There was a guy with her, too – a good-looking guy, kind of a rock-n-roll dude, with tats on his muscular arms and an Adam Levine haircut. Before I’d met Connor, I would have said he was insanely hot. Now he was just pretty good-looking by comparison.

He was grinning ear to ear as he stood holding his girlfriend’s hand.

But I didn’t look at him long.

I returned to her eyes, watching me, wanting what I had.

If you had asked me before, I’d have said I would freak out if someone caught us.

Instead, it was like I stepped outside of my body and saw me the way
she
saw me:

As the luckiest woman in the world.

And I figured something else out:

…I kind of like being watched.

A little.

Thank God it was a woman my age.