Living in Secret: Living In..., Book 3 (10 page)

Well, shit, neither are you.

No, Christ, when was the last time he’d had a blowjob? Before they were married…

He looked down at her, into her eyes. She was so familiar to him and yet he’d never had her here before. On her knees with her lips wrapped around his cock, wearing a net of chains showcasing full, beautiful breasts. And black panties barely covering her pussy. That were transparent and through which he could see silky black curls.

Oh…Jesus…

“That feels good,” he murmured, pleasure continuing to build inside him. “You like that? You like my cock in your mouth?”

Her throat moved, her gaze never leaving his. She nodded.

“Of course you do.” He tugged again on her hair, not missing the soft moan that escaped her. “Now touch me, dirty girl. Put your hands on me.”

She lifted her hands immediately, as if she’d been waiting for the command all along. One warm palm settled on his abdomen, her touch sending ripples of fire through him. Then she reached for his cock, wrapping her fingers tightly around the base and holding on, drawing him even deeper into her mouth.

“Oh…fuck…” This was more intense than he’d ever imagined. Watching her take him and the movement of her breasts as he thrust, the glitter of the chains. Hearing the slight panting sounds she made, the soft moans. Her hand on his stomach was so soft, her touch gentle.

It was too much.

He closed his eyes, the pleasure drawing into a tight, vicious knot.

Victoria’s fingers flexed on his abdomen, her nails digging in, her fingers around his cock squeezing. Her mouth was so hot and she was doing things with her tongue, circling the head of his cock, sucking hungrily on him.

“You dirty fucking girl,” Connor whispered, his voice hoarse, letting all the filthy things he’d wanted to say out. All the things he’d been keeping inside since he married her. “You beautiful little slut. I’m going to come and it’s all your fault.”

He wanted to keep this going, wanted to keep fucking her beautiful mouth for as long as he could, but it had been too long and he was too damn hungry.

The orgasm detonated inside him, a nova starburst burning along every single nerve ending he had. Setting him alight. He groaned aloud, his fingers tightening hard in her hair, his rhythm becoming rough and unfocused, his hips jerking as the pleasure uncoiled like a whip.

His last coherent thought was thank God he had a whole night. Because he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get able to get enough of this.

Victoria rested her head against the heat of Connor’s stomach, her heart thundering, the pulse of desire inside her so insistent it was all she could do not to beg. Her scalp tingled from where he’d pulled her hair and the brush of those damn chains against her exquisitely sensitive nipples was enough to make her scream.

You beautiful slut.

Why did she find that so damn hot? Why did she find him calling her dirty so damn hot? Why was being on her knees, taking instructions and sucking him off so arousing she couldn’t speak?

It didn’t make sense. And yet there had been a moment when it had. When she’d looked up into his eyes and saw how completely he wanted her. How desperate he was. Like he had been the night before. And it had all become beautifully clear.

She could have walked away from him and his orders. Told him where to stick it. But she hadn’t wanted to. She wanted this. Desperation and heat and hunger, and all for her.

She closed her eyes, relishing the thick, salty taste of him in her mouth. She hadn’t given a guy a blowjob since the night she’d first discovered sex, when Simon Curtis had wanted her to go down on him. She’d enjoyed it then, finding the whole experience new and exciting, amazed at her own feminine power. Simon had been into it too and she’d thought—stupid girl that she was—that his response had meant love. And maybe it had, at least for a little while. Until she’d told him she was pregnant and then he’d told her he didn’t care and didn’t want to see her again.

Fingers moved in her hair, more tugging that sent little shockwaves of pleasure right through her.

“Up,” Connor said, his voice all sexy and rough. “On your feet.”

Reluctantly, she eased back from him and did as she was told, rising up from her knees to stand. He adjusted himself, pulling up his zipper unhurriedly, his gaze open and hungry as it swept over her.

She shivered, her mouth dry, the ache between her thighs intensifying.

God, he was hot. Normally he wore suits and that’s what she’d come to expect, but not tonight. He was in a pair of old jeans sitting low on his lean hips and a plain, black T-shirt. The knees of his jeans were worn and his feet were bare. A far cry from the polished prosecutor he was during the day. Had he ever worn casual clothing like this when they were together? He must have and yet she couldn’t remember it.

His eyes glinted. “See something you like?”

Oh hell. He knew what she wanted. He knew she was desperate. And that knowledge was exposing. Not concealing her feelings was a difficult habit to break and even now, when there was no hiding them, she felt uncertain. Vulnerable.

In fact she hadn’t realized till now how vulnerable he actually made her feel.

“Connor,” she began, not really knowing what she wanted to say.

Yet he didn’t wait for her to finish. “Into the lounge. If you’re good, you might just get what you want.”

“But—”

His hands rested on her shoulders, turning her around. And then the warmth of his body was up against her back, fingers moving down to rest lightly on the bare skin of her hips. “It’s okay, Victoria.” His voice was quiet, his breath warm against her neck, near her ear. “It’s okay to want it.” Then he gave her a gentle push. “Go on. Walk ahead of me. I want to watch you.”

Damn it. Did she really need his reassurance? After she’d had him shaking and at her mercy?

Pulling herself together, she walked forward, the high red sandals that had seemed the obvious choice with the thing she was wearing, clicking on the wooden floorboards.

No, she didn’t need it. So, she wanted him. Well, he’d wanted her and had let her see it, hadn’t hidden it. She’d gotten that from him and hell, she was going to keep it.

The thought kept her going to the end of the hallway that opened up into a massive open plan lounge and dining room.

She walked in and then stopped, overcome by a wave of familiarity.

She remembered this room, with the long windows facing the garden. They’d spent so much money on buying the house and then getting an interior decorator in to renovate it. She’d wanted white because it was calming and restful, and Connor had agreed because he liked the minimalism of it.

So their lounge was a symphony of white. White carpeted floor, white walls. Thick white curtains drawn over those windows. A long white leather couch and a glass coffee table. White armchairs. White dining table and dining chairs. The only things that weren’t white were the sleek, black banks of electronics Connor had insisted on—TV and stereo and some kind of house monitoring thing. Oh yes and the black-and-white art photos on the walls.

She’d once loved this room. Especially the peace of it when she was by herself. When Connor wasn’t home and she could sit and work without his disturbing presence.

He brushed past her now, walking soundlessly over to the glass liquor cabinet in one corner. He didn’t offer her a drink, pouring himself a tumbler of single malt whisky instead. How odd. She didn’t think he drank whisky.

Grabbing the tumbler, he walked over to one of the white armchairs and sat down, long legs outstretched and slightly apart. “Sit down,” he said and pointed to the floor directly in front of him.

She wanted to protest, say something about how she wasn’t a dog and he didn’t need to treat her like one. But he was looking at her like she was something good he wanted to eat and she couldn’t find it in herself to protest after all. Instead she walked toward him, watching how his gaze moved and shifted. From her mouth to her breasts, to her hips and then lower, down between her thighs, that restless blue flame in his eyes glowing deeper, darker.

It’s okay to want…

She found herself breathing hard as she finally came to a stop in front of him, standing between his spread legs. He looked up at her, his gaze searching. “Tell me what you want, Victoria.”

A shock of surprise went through her. “What I want? I thought this was all about what you want?”

“It is. I’m going to get off on hearing you say it.” He didn’t take his eyes off her as he lifted the tumbler and took a sip of whisky. “Go on. I want to hear.”

What did she want?

You know…

Well, of course she knew.

“You,” she said, proud of the fact that her voice didn’t shake. “I want you.”

“But I already know that. Where and how do you want me?”

“Why? Are you going to let me give you an order?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, studying her. And she found herself studying him in return, as if they were fighters measuring each other up. “I might,” he said after a moment. “But not if you’re being blatantly disobedient.”

Her breath caught, strange pleasure twisting inside her. “Disobedient?”

“I asked you to sit.”

“Why do you get off on telling me what to do?”

“Why do you get off on being told what to do?” His eyes gleamed, a slight curve to his mouth.

So damn sexy. Sitting there with his long, lean body stretched out on the chair, black hair still spiked up and damp from the shower he must have just had before she’d gotten here. His jeans were unbuttoned, a thin strip of skin showing between the waistband and his T-shirt. His flat, tanned stomach that had felt so hot beneath her hand as she’d sucked him off. Hard muscle and smooth skin…

She was breathless again, shaky with the need to touch him. It was a good question. Why
did
she get off on him telling her what to do? What did she like so much about him being in control?

So you never have to take the blame for liking it…

The voice was a quiet whisper, sitting insistently in the back of her head. And maybe it was true. Maybe it was why she’d put on all the gold chains and nothing else. Why she’d fallen to her knees in the hallway. And even back up in the bar, with Raphael, she’d done all that in response to the challenge in Connor’s eyes. Pushing him to tell her what to do, pushing him to take all the blame from her. So she wouldn’t have to be responsible for anything that might happen…

“Sit down,” he said, his tone quiet and steely.

And she did, going to her knees before him. He leaned forward and reached out, gripping her chin in his fingers, their faces close, his lips millimeters from hers.

She’d never wanted him to close the distance so badly as she did now. Never wanted a kiss as much as she did in this moment.

“You don’t want to be dirty, do you, Victoria?”

Her breath was coming faster. “It’s not just me.”

“No, but I’m willing to come to terms with it. This week I’m letting myself be as dirty, as filthy as I want to be.” He leaned forward slightly, his breath against her mouth, warm and smoky with the whisky. “And I’m giving you permission to be dirty too.”

“I….” She swallowed. “I don’t need your permission.”

“No, but you want it. You want it from someone.” An inch farther, their lips nearly touching. “So take it from me.”

She was almost dizzy with hunger. And when he brushed his mouth against hers, she couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped, or prevent herself from leaning in, wanting more. But it he didn’t deepen the kiss, keeping their lips just touching. “Be dirty, Victoria,” he murmured. “And tell me what you want.”

“I want you to take your clothes off,” she said shakily. “I don’t want to be the only one who’s naked.”

He eased back, his gaze searching hers. And she realized belatedly there were layers to that statement she hadn’t meant. At least not consciously.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he abruptly lifted his tumbler and drained it, putting it on the side table next to the armchair. And in a smooth, economical movement, pulled his T-shirt up and over his head, throwing it carelessly onto the floor beside the chair.

Victoria took an uneven breath, unable to take her eyes off him as he pushed his jeans down his hips, taking his boxers with them, the tight, hard muscles of his abdomen flexing as he eased them lower. Sliding them down his muscular thighs, long calves and finally off onto the floor. He kicked them away then resumed his position in the chair, his legs outstretched, his hands on the arms of the chair, staring at her. Gloriously naked and so damn arrogant with it.

Tanned skin and cut muscle. Narrow hips, broad shoulders. A light sprinkling of crisp, black hair. Lean thighs and between them, the curve of his cock, already hard and ready.

She couldn’t help herself, putting her hands on his thighs and sliding up, her hands shaking. His skin was hot and she could feel his muscles tighten under her hands. She leaned forward, breathing fast, her hands moving higher to his hips then up over his chest. She’d never touched him like this before. At first she’d never thought she’d ever want to and then, after she’d caught a glimpse of the tiger hiding behind the man, she’d never thought she’d get to.

And now she was.

Be dirty…

She leaned forward even farther and pressed her mouth to his stomach, licking the salt of his skin and inhaling him. The ocean fresh scent of him had become warmer, spicy with male arousal, the heat of his cock pressing between her breasts as she leaned down.

He didn’t say anything, letting her touch him for a moment. Then he moved and she felt his body arch over hers as he bent to retrieve something from the floor, the heat of him surrounding her. It was only a second but she felt her heart go still in her chest, an intense, unfamiliar yearning to be held stealing her breath.

Stupid. Why would she want that? She’d never felt the need before so why she should want it now, she had no idea.

Connor sat back and the yearning vanished along with the warmth of him around her. She ignored the emotion, trying to concentrate on the feel of his skin as she moved her hands over him. And then his fingers knotted in her hair, tugging her up, ignoring her gasp of protest.