Dirty Filthy Fix Page 6
I was already halfway to orgasm when he pointed the tip of his tongue and wedged it between my lips, finally caressing my nub, this time with the brush of an artist, his strokes now refined and detailed. The way he curved this way along my clit, and then that. So scrupulous. So precise. So divine.
I exploded like a firecracker my legs shaking and trembling as I tightened them around his ears in a vise grip. I put my arms behind me to steady myself and screamed his name.
When he brought his head up to look at me, his face was covered in my ecstasy. He smiled. “You tasted even better than I suspected from those panties of yours.”
He kissed me, and I tasted myself on him as he fingered me to a second orgasm. This one was intense, coming so quickly after the first. I barely knew my own name when I was done flooding all over his hand.
And I was desperate for more. For him.
“I need you,” I begged when I found my voice. “Now.”
“You’re so greedy.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“Fuck, no.”
He lifted me down from the cabinet. Immediately, he slipped the straps of my dress down my arms and pushed the satin material from my breasts. The gown fell to the floor. I’d already lost my shoes when he’d propped me up to go down on me, and now I was naked in front of him.
I stood with my back straight and let him look at me in the moonlight that streamed in through the large windows facing the river. His gaze both kindled my desire and made my stomach flutter. Which was…different. I was usually comfortable in my nudity. Usually proud and unashamed, and I still was, but with Nathan I was also humbled. He looked at me not just like he wanted me, but like he revered me. Like he adored me. Like he respected me.
I didn’t know how to feel about that.
I didn’t want to feel anything about it.
I wanted to feel naughty and kinky instead, so I ignored the flip of my stomach and tugged at his tie, pulling him farther into the apartment.
It was hard to focus on much other than the amazing, attractive man in front of me, but I was aware enough to recognize he lived in a studio, big and open. I spotted his bed on the other side of the room. It looked far away.
Too far away.
Nathan seemed to be on the same page. He pulled me instead to a drafting table nearby. He swung the chair around and pushed me down into it. Then he began stripping off his jacket while I worked on his zipper, eager to have his cock out, desperate to touch him and feel him, and see more than just the very tip that I’d spied across the circle in the game earlier in the evening.
He wasn’t wearing any underwear either, and even after everything else, even naked, fresh off two orgasms, the knowledge that he’d been freeballing wound new tension inside me.
Then I got a good look at him—at all of him—and the excitement twining inside me doubled. He was magnificent. Thick. Long. Built like a stallion. He probably intimidated some women with his size.
I was about to be a very lucky girl.
I stroked my hand along his length, purring as I did. “I can’t believe you hid this,” I admonished. “This cock deserves to be sucked and licked and praised.”
“Made to be fucked?” he asked, bucking into my hands. “Made to get lost inside your pussy?”
I bit my lip. “Mm-hm.” It was the best I could do, the only sound I could utter. I was so desperate, so in want of him.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I scrambled up to my knees and turned to brace my elbows on the drafting table, then looked back at him to see if I’d done what he’d meant. He was digging a condom from his wallet. I watched, riveted, as he unrolled it over his cock.
Then he stepped forward, still dressed in his tuxedo shirt, his tie now hanging loose and his pants around his ankles. He smacked my outer thigh, then lined himself up between my legs. His head slid along my damp slit a couple of times and then he nudged his crown into my pussy—just barely.
I pushed back, urging him to move forward. But he grabbed my hips, stilling me. “Hold on, gorgeous. You need to be ready for me.” But he said it with gritted teeth, and I didn’t know if it was really me he was preparing or himself.
After a minute that felt like a lifetime, he went deeper, steadily, so I could feel each new inch of him, and when he was all the way in, I could have sworn he was touching the inside of my belly button.
It was fucking amazing.
He fit tight inside me, but I clenched down around him, wanting to feel as full as I could. Wanting to grip him with every part of my pussy so that when he moved, I might feel him everywhere.
“Yes, baby. Just like that.” He moved his hips in a circle then began rocking in and out.
And fuck, I did feel him everywhere. Every bit of my insides experienced the massage of his cock.
I moved with him, inching back to meet him when he thrust forward, stretching away as he pulled out. Each move was ecstasy, a new exquisite friction with every stroke. It had been too long since I’d done this. Too long since I’d let a man put his cock inside me. I’d forgotten how incredible it was to feel the slap of flesh against my thighs and the hot pulse of an erection, so different from the toys and fingers that had invaded my pussy in the last year.
I reached down between my legs to rub my clit and moaned with pleasure. Then I reached further to where we were joined so I could feel him glide in and out.
“Do that again,” he ordered, his voice frayed. “Touch yourself. Then touch my cock as I fuck you.”
I did. He groaned. The sound throbbed through to where his body met mine.
“I’m going to come soon, Trish, baby,” he said. “You make yourself come first. I want to feel what it feels like to have you coming around me. And then I’m going to pull out and come on your ass.”
Fuck. That almost did it for me right there.
I worked my clit quickly, my insides getting tighter with each flick of my finger. I was almost there, almost to that place that I’d been so many times, but never got tired of going. That wonderful, euphoric orgasmic heaven. I imagined what it must look like to him—me bent over his drafting table, my ass in the air, his dick getting lost inside me. If I weren’t the one he was fucking, I would have wanted to watch. It had to look so erotic, so sexy, so goddamned filthy from the outside.
Imagining it sent me flying. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God.”
He spit out a string of praises about how beautiful I was, how tight I was when I came, how hard I made him, how he was going to paint me in his cum. Then he pulled out abruptly and barely a handful of seconds passed before I felt the hot, sticky flow of his cum seeping between my ass cheeks.
“You’re beautiful,” he commended in a low rumble. “A masterpiece.”
I pictured him staring at me like I was a piece of art, like I was one of the pieces that his team in Creative handed to him for approval, for his careful inspection.
It made me feel even more sexy and satiated. And something else. Beautiful. Like the kind of beautiful that belonged to itself. The kind of beautiful that no one tried to own.
Which was stupid, because we were just talking about his cum on my backside, and there wasn’t anything that made a guy feel like he owned a woman like when he’d jerked off on her.
But anyway, it was hot. And I liked that he thought it was hot too.
“Take a picture,” I suggested. Because that idea made me hot as well.
“Can I?” He didn’t disguise his excitement, and he was already digging out his phone from his abandoned tuxedo pants. I looked down to make sure he didn’t get my face in the shot. A moment later a flash lit up the room. Another one followed, and then he tossed his phone on the drafting table next to me.
“Take a look,” he said. “I’ll get something to clean you up while you do.”
I stared at the picture on his phone. The angle, the way he’d framed my body in the shot—Nathan had a good eye. I did look like art. If he didn’t jack off to that
image later, I certainly would.
He came back from the bathroom a minute later with a warm washcloth. He wiped me off quickly, and wasn’t too sweet about it, which I appreciated. I hated it when men got all gentle and careful after sex, as though I were fragile, as though I wanted them to be tender with me. I didn’t like tender sex, as a rule, and I didn’t want tender aftercare.
When he was finished, he tossed the washrag to the floor. I turned around to face him, perching myself on the edge of the drafting table. He was still wearing his shirt, though he’d abandoned his pants completely. His socks were gone now as well, I noticed. He must’ve lost those when I wasn’t looking.
I pulled his shirttail, tugging him closer to me. “Do I get to unwrap the rest of the package?”
He ran his hand through my hair, brushing a long curl out of my face. “I’d like that.”
I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his shoulders, revealing an incredible torso with barely an ounce of fat on it and a couple of large tattoos. A three-quarter sleeve tattoo decorated one arm with koi fish and waves in crisp black ink. On his chest on the opposite side of his body was a symbol I didn’t recognize. It looked like a pinwheel of sorts, or a flower with six petals. I studied it, trying to work out its intricacies, trying to figure out exactly what it might mean, and came up empty.
I could always ask, but something about that idea made me uncomfortable.
Instead, I traced my hands up along his firm abs. “You’re a beautiful man, Nathan.”
“My friends call me Nate,” he said with a chuckle.
I almost chuckled with him, because—were we friends now?
Then I remembered what this was. This was the weird part about going home with someone. The part I’d never liked. The part where we started talking to each other, getting to know each other, asking each other personal questions and answering with tidbits of our lives.
It wasn’t that I had anything to hide. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to know about Nathan “Nate” Sinclair.
Quite the contrary, there was so much I wanted to know about him. Like why, if he was a millionaire, was he living in such a sparse apartment? Why was there no furniture? Why had he just decided to start going to the Open Door? He’d lived here in New York for a while. Who’d invited him this time? Why hadn’t he been coming before? Why did he have koi and waves tattooed on his arm—what was the significance? And what was the symbol I’d traced with my fingertips?
But for every question I asked him, he would ask one in return. For every question, for every answer, I would get to know him just a little bit more. And he would get to know me just a little bit more. And it would be harder to say that this was just a one-time thing. It would be harder to want this to be just a one-time thing.
And I really, really needed this to be a one-time thing. Before he got attached and things got complicated. Before he wanted parts of me I wasn’t prepared to give.
So I spoke in the language that I knew best, the one that didn’t require commitments and definitely didn’t help grow attachments. I bent forward and licked my tongue around his nipple.
“Careful, Trish,” he said with a hiss. “If you play dirty, I’m going to have to take you to my bed for another round.”
“What the hell are we waiting for?”
* * * *
A couple of hours later, when I was sure he was asleep, I slipped out of his bed and dressed quietly. I didn’t leave him a note. And I didn’t leave him a shoe because I needed those to get home. Besides, Cinderella only left one behind because she wanted the prince to come find her, and I didn’t want Nathan—or Nate—coming after me.
Did I?
Chapter Six
I’d just opened the office on Monday morning when the elevator doors opened. Out of my periphery, I saw a client walk into the lobby, though my attention was on booting my computer for the day.
“Can I help—” I cut myself off when I looked up and my gaze crashed into Nate’s.
“Mr. Sinclair.” I could barely get air in my lungs. “You don’t have an appointment this morning.”
Had he scheduled something I’d forgotten? The computer still wasn’t on so I couldn’t check.
“Actually, I’m here for you.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.” Just…no. I came around my desk and started to shoo him out of the office. I understood what was going on now—exactly the thing I’d feared would happen. The thing that always happened when I went home with someone.
I came over to him and pointed toward the elevator. “You need to go. You need to go before my boss gets here. I told you I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“I wouldn’t have come here if you had given me any other choice,” Nate said, crossing his arms over his chest. When he did, his biceps bulged just under his suit jacket.
And now that I knew how rugged he was underneath his clothes, how toned, it was hard not to think about it.
So I thought about it, but I tried not to think about it too much. “No choice? What do you mean?”
“I mean you snuck out of my apartment without even giving me your phone number. This was the only way that I knew how to contact you.”
“Or you could not contact me. That was the option I was hoping you would go for.” I pushed on his backside, hoping to get him to walk out of the office as my eyes darted toward the elevator. “You have to get out of here before Hudson gets here. I do not want him to know I slept with one of his associates.”
“You didn’t even say good-bye.” He didn’t budge when I pushed at him. He was so solid, so grounded in his place. “You could have at least left me a note.”
“Like I carry a pen and paper around with me. And what would the note say, anyway?” Had a good time, don’t ever call. See you maybe sometime on a Saturday?
“I don’t know, maybe you could give me your number. Tell me where you live.”
“No way. Off limits. The kink was hot and it was fun, but my space is sacred.”
The elevator dinged and I jumped. Fortunately it was only Norma Anders, the chief financial advisor. I waved with a tight grin, then turned back to Nate and scowled.
“Would you get out of here now?” I hissed.
Nate started moving. Unfortunately, he didn’t head in the direction I wanted him to move. Instead, he casually walked over to my desk and sat on it. “Since I don’t know where else to find you, clearly coming to your place of business was my only option. I’ll stay here until you agree to my demands.”
“Demands!” The doors dinged again, and I jumped again. When I turned, I realized they were just closing from when they had been open before. But the sign above the elevator indicated that it was headed down. Any moment it would be coming up again, and with it would be my boss.
Obviously my demands weren’t going to work with Nate.
No, not Nate. Nathan. I was not his friend. I was not his anything.
But since he’d proven himself a sucker for my feminine wiles, maybe I could use them in my favor.
I tossed my hair over a shoulder and strolled to him. “Don’t you think we could maybe settle this on Saturday?” I twirled my finger playfully around his tie, a burnt red hue that brought out the green in his eyes. “We could talk all night long about the things you want to know. You can torture me until I deliver on your demands.” If I decided to show up, that was.
“No way,” Nate said, throwing my words to him back at me. “How do I even know you’ll show up?”
I pouted, unhappy that he’d caught me at my own game. “I don’t know, Nate. But I can’t talk to you about this right now. You have to leave before Hudson gets here. If he walks in and I have to deal with the embarrassment of explaining to my boss why my one-night stand has taken over his waiting room, I will truly die.”
“You can just tell him the truth. Because you ran out on me and didn’t give me your number. I bet the man will give me a high-five with one hand while handing me your number with the other.”
Or would he be furious about me sleeping with an owner of another firm? Was it an ethical violation?
God, I didn’t know. I was sure he wouldn’t give anyone a high-five, but that was about all I was sure of.
Bottom line was, I didn’t want to find out how he’d react.
“Nate!” I exclaimed. My heart rate was going up right along with the elevator.
“Just go out with me.” It was maddening how calm he was in contrast to my anxiety.
The elevator doors opened. It wasn’t Hudson who walked out in a well-tailored suit, but his younger brother, Chandler.
“Hey, Trish.” He winked as he walked by.
Chandler rarely made it to the office before Hudson. Hudson had to be coming up any second. Time was running out.
I was desperate.
“Fine,” I gave in. “I’ll go out with you. Just leave.”
Nate smiled, a grin that went from ear to ear and made my insides turn to mush.
“Now was that so hard?” He leaned in toward me, and I thought for a moment that he’d give me a kiss, but he didn’t. And I was weirdly disappointed that he didn’t.
“Go,” I whispered.
“I’m going.”
He stood and left, and I let out a sigh of relief, but then all of a sudden he was back.
“What?” I groaned.
“I need your number.”
I huffed and held my hand toward him. “Give me your phone.” He passed me his phone, and I entered my phone number into the screen and pressed CALL. I let it ring a couple times and then hung up. “Now it’s in there.” I started to hand the phone back to him.
“I need your address, too.”
I smiled a little at this. “It’s like you don’t trust me or something.” And he was so right not to. But I put my address in his phone, under the new contact that I’d made, and I gave him my last name as well. Basically everything no one at the Open Door had ever learned.