“
Milaya moya,
” he mumbled with a deep sigh. She looked up at him from her knees and smiled.
Stroking his length with both hands, she told him, “This, this is
my
sweetness.” And then she leaned in, pursed her lips and dropped a sensual kiss right on the head of his cock.
When her tongue flicked out and swiped a droplet of fluid on the tip, he nearly dropped like a rock.
“Here’s where
I
am, baby. On my knees, ready to worship what’s mine. Enough of the stoic bullshit, Liam. I know how much you liked fucking my mouth and you know damn straight what an eager wanton you make me.”
The way she was mapping his length with her fingers was driving him wild. Fisting a hand in the hair tumbling down her back, he groaned and shifted his hips, effectively wagging his hardened dick in her face.
“But know this,” she told him softly. After another sweet kiss, this time on the underside of his cock, which was quickly followed by a flat-tongued lick from the base to tip, she looked up at him with a deadly serious expression.
“I’m not sharing. Either you belong to me or you don’t. It’s that simple. Decide now,” she told him with a wicked tug.
He answered so quickly it shocked him. And her, too.
“I love you.”
The room lit up with mental fireworks as he finally gave in to the inevitable. Of course, he was hers. Always had been. And she knew it, too, judging by the shit-eating grin on her face.
“Now suck,” he told her with a wicked grin of his own. “And make it good, woman, or you can pay for your own dinner.”
“Always with the dealmaking,” she tut-tutted.
“Jesus Christ,” he growled when she licked her lips and massaged his balls, cupping them in one of her small hands.
With a delightfully naughty leer, she guided his staff toward her mouth and said, “Fuck dinner. I’m going to be plenty full after this.”
There was something mesmerizing and beautiful about watching her open wide as his throbbing cock slid along her tongue until, on that very first lunge, she took him deep into her mouth, moaning for all she was worth. How the hell did she do that?
As she worked his turgid flesh, gobbling and slurping, while she toyed with his balls, he marveled at the view he had. He also hoped he could commit this scene to memory forever.
What was it about Rhiann on her knees, her beautiful tits swaying from her efforts and the tiny whimpers and moans she made, which filled him with such satisfaction? She wasn’t playacting. He knew that. She enjoyed sucking him, and even without a shit ton of experience, turned the act into a sexy, seductive show that nearly unmanned him.
It wasn’t just that she took him deep. She knew he got off on the little gags that forced her to release him and never failed to meet his heated gaze with one of her own as she swallowed the reflex, composed herself for more and stroked his saliva covered staff.
No, it was deeper than that. He’d certainly had his share of blowjobs over the years—most of them fake and performed solely with an eye to the end game. Money and position did that.
But Rhiann? She couldn’t care less about his money or who he was. She willingly gave more than she took. And with each soft whimper, he fell further under her spell.
“Look at me,” he demanded roughly, his fist yanking on her hair.
With his cock in her mouth, she responded with lust-filled eyes that begged for more.
“All the way, Rhiann,” he growled low and deep.
Her answering moan was a green light. Both hands on either side of her head, he started flexing his hips, slowly fucking her mouth. When her hands grabbed onto his ass and urged him deeper, he almost lost it.
Twice she had to release him and compose herself but she never looked away and eagerly opened wide again encouraging him to continue.
With his orgasm building, he asked gruffly, “Do you want me to come in your mouth?”
This part was always her call. He never took for granted that he had her consent. She had to tell him yes or no.
Those wicked green eyes glittered as her mouth plunged deep, and then backed off. He saw her smile and felt the curl of her naughty lips on his straining flesh.
On a deep groan, she cupped his balls and swallowed his cock whole, until her cute little nose buried in the hair surrounding his sex. He held her there for seconds then released. Without pause, she replayed the movement over and over. He could feel his orgasm dancing along his nerve endings, speeding toward completion.
“Suck my cock,
milaya moya,
” he ground out.
And she did with a ferocity that blinded him until he exploded deep in her mouth. He heard her grunt and felt the muscles of her throat pulse when his essence filled her mouth.
“Fuck!” he roared, grabbing her head for a final plunge and holding her on him as he shot hot cum into her throat.
How he stayed standing, he had no idea. And with his pants tangled around his feet, it was a wonder he hadn’t lost his balance and ended up sprawled on the floor. Knowing it wouldn’t have stopped her from sucking him to completion filled him with wonder.
When it was over and he could see again, Liam looked down at her and marveled at the satisfied expression on her face. With one finger, she wiped the corners of her mouth, gathering remnants of saliva and what he’d brought to the proceedings then sucked her finger clean.
Never one to let an opportunity slide by without a well-placed comment, she winked, gave him a saucy pout, and said, “Now that’s what I call a blue plate special.”
Dinner was a test of Liam’s cool. Completely unable to wipe the image of Rhiann on her knees at his feet with her mouth full of . . . well, of him, he was having a hard time behaving like a civilized human.
Didn’t help that Roman,
that asshole,
was openly smirking at him.
Also didn’t help that from the minute they stepped out in public, the little green-eyed witch he was salivating over made quite the show of hanging all over his head of security. In fact, she was putting on a bravura performance that would do Bryanna Charles Baron-Wilde proud.
He was on his second martini when Roman, laughing at something Princess Snarks-a-Lot said, slung his arm across the back of her chair and leaned close to whisper something. She reared back and laughed, smacking him on the arm like a naughty kid.
“I’m right here,” he barked annoyed, frustrated, and quickly setting up camp in the jealousy zone.
Rhiann looked at him, batted her eyes with unashamed innocence, and said, “What? No good?”
“Is it impossible for you to behave?”
“Behave is it, now?” she simpered coyly.
Roman rapped his knuckles on the table and told them, “I think that’s my cue to excuse myself for a few minutes. No yelling, okay,” he instructed before turning and walking into the bar.
“What’s your problem?” she snapped. “I thought making nice with Macho Man was what you expected of me. Throw off the crazy lady, right? Make up your damn mind, would you?”
“My mind was made up an hour ago when my dick was down your throat. Are you trying to make me crazy by hanging all over Bishop? He’s not flypaper, you know.”
Dammit to hell if she didn’t bite her fucking lip to stop from laughing.
“Would it make you feel any better,” she taunted in a crisp, matter-of-fact way, “if I told you that I intend to tie your arrogant, scowling ass to my bed when we get home and keep you there until you make love to me?”
What?
Shit!
How the fuck did she turn the tables on him so neatly and with such little effort? One minute he was growling like a bear, ready to punch Roman’s lights out, and the next she’d flat-footed him with a risqué comeback that frankly, had him panting with need.
She was extraordinary. There she sat, perfectly poised, sipping her glass of wine like she was to the manor born. He watched her lips open to accept the rosy liquid and felt his groin twitch. Only he knew what she’d been doing with those lips earlier. He wondered briefly if the slightly sweet Moscato she ordered went well with the aftertaste of his having come in her mouth.
Her hooded gaze and the way she squirmed in her seat suggested they were sharing the same thought.
Reminding him that she expected a response, her little pout appeared. “Nothing to say to that?” she asked all sweetness and light.
Finishing his drink, he set the glass down, lifted a pick holding the last of the olives he had on the side, and placed it between his teeth. She was watching his every move. Slowly biting down on the briny flesh of the green fruit, he made a show of slowly chewing and then swiping his tongue across his lips. When she put her wine glass on the table next to his drained martini, she did so with slightly trembling hands.
“I have two words for you.”
She swung her eyes to his, but he paused and let the silent, expectant tension build. He watched as her respirations increased and became shallow.
Good.
That was all he needed to know. Roman was safe as long as she looked at him like that.
“Do tell,” she responded in perfect ladylike fashion.
“Fuck,” he said—and then stopped.
She raised an eyebrow. Was he cursing or talking?
Gotcha,
he thought, mildly amused that it had been so easy.
“Me.”
Her mouth opened slightly when his words hit home.
She gave as good as she got, though. Always had.
“Is that a command?” The devilish glint in her eyes had his dick hardening in seconds. “Or a request?”
He loved this verbal game they played. It would never get old.
“Both. The first being the command and the second a request.”
“What if I said yes to the first but chose a different recipient for the request?”
Little witch. She was playing with fire.
“He’d be dead before it got that far. Remember telling me that you didn’t share? Neither do I, Rhiann. It would be wise to keep that in mind.”
Not surprisingly, his comment played into her hand. She was much quicker on her feet than he was when it came to word play.
Leaning so only he could hear, she whispered, “Hold that thought, baby,” close to his ear. Close enough that he felt the words tickle his skin. Close enough that he picked up on her seductive scent as it mingled with the wine on her breath and the sensual perfume she wore.
“Two can play at that, h
mm?
I have no choice but to accept that you fucked that frigid bitch but if it happens again—with her, or anyone else, for that matter—yours will be the first in my body count. Understood?”
Holy shit. With a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth sweetness, she’d just put him on blast, making it very clear where she stood. There was no doubt that she meant every word. He fucking liked that his little firebrand was staking her claim.
Okay, then.
This is good,
he thought. Taking a deep breath that expanded his chest to bursting, he let it out and grinned broadly.
“Understood . . .
ma’am,
” he added for shits and grins.
“You get the check. I’m going to visit the ladies.’ There seems to be a bit of dampness I should take care of.”
Standing, she ran a hand down her hip and across her butt in that way women do when they’re making sure their dress isn’t out of place.
For fun, he suggested, “Make it good, sweetness. The walking away thing. I want to watch your ass and imagine what it’s going to look like sticking up in the air as I fuck you from behind.” Her answering giggle was the sweetest sound.
They were in the car on the way home with he and Roman quietly talking—front seat to backseat—as Rhiann fidgeted non-stop. Liam didn’t have to wonder what she was thinking because it was written all over her face when she came back from the ladies’ room. He guessed that her panties had proved well and truly soaked. One could only hope, right?
Driving along the main road, she suddenly lurched upright and insisted that she had a stop to make.
“I need to go in the CVS,” she stated anxiously.
What the hell was this all about,
he wondered.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Why do you need to do that now?”
“I just do,” she snapped sulkily.
“Really? That’s it? I just
do?
”
Flipping around in her seat, she glared at him. “I need some tampons, okay?” she snapped.
Tampons? Ah, fuck. No way. Her comment shut him up, and Roman wisely said absolutely nothing. When they pulled into the brightly lit parking lot of the big drug store, Liam offered to accompany her inside but she’d have none of it. Some things, it seemed, were best left private.
After she had entered the store, Roman looked at him in the rearview and muttered, “Sucks to be you, huh?”
“Shut up.”