Diablo Blanco Club, Unfair Advantage Page 8

  “Cock of the Walk.”

  “What?”

  Bryce chuckled, his fingers stroking through the curls beside her ear. “It’s one of three kinds of kisses.”

  “There are ‘kinds’ of kisses?” Mattie’s attention was now focused on the heat the closeness of his body engendered. Through his trousers, she could feel the firm length of his arousal against her hips, reassuring her that, though his words might seem offhand, his body was responding to hers.

  “Over the years, I’ve discovered there are basically three types of kisses. Each one can have any number of kisses, but the styles are broken down into three distinct categories.”

  Needing to feel him, Mattie eased her hands up to the buttons on Bryce’s shirt. Fingers hovering over the first, she waited until he nodded approval before opening it. Keeping the conversation going as she slid each button free of its hole, Mattie offered, “So the slimy, groping kind of kiss is…”

  “Cock of the Walk.” He pushed himself up so she could tug the tail of his shirt loose from his trousers before he settled back into place, this time allowing his hips to rest firmly over hers. “It’s the type of kiss I consider the one-night stand. Lots of tongue and groping, little finesse.”

  Mattie grimaced at the reminder of the other man’s attentions.

  Bryce chuckled. “I take it Victor needs to work on his finesse?”

  “And how.” She nodded, her gaze transfixed by the tanned muscles roping his chest and abdomen. A T-shaped dusting of fine, white blond curls stretched between his nipples and arrowed down toward his belly.

  The brush of Bryce’s lips beside hers drew her attention back to his face. “Then there’s the Big Brother.”

  “Big Brother?”

  He nodded. “Um-hm.” Leaning down, he pressed a light kiss to her cheek, then one to her forehead. “You know. The type a close friend or relative gives when they haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Oh, familial,” Mattie grated out. Having him so close, his attentions focused on her, spun the coil of arousal tight in her belly. The awareness of her nude body pressed against his was playing havoc with her concentration. The heat from her spanked bottom seemed to be seeping into her pussy, warming it, drawing forth fluids. “Oh—” She cleared her throat as she tried to ignore the sensations stirring between her thighs. “Okay, so there’s the Big Brother and the Cock of the Walk. What’s the third type?”

  “That’s the kiss that takes the most time and the most patience to learn,” Bryce assured her.

  The wry grin lifting his lips was a subtle warning Mattie recognized, but with her senses as muddled as they were, she was unable to prepare for it. Instead, she stepped into the trap he’d set and didn’t realize it until it snapped closed behind her. “It is? Why?”

  “Because the ‘Knock the Socks Off’-type kiss incorporates all the senses.” His gaze held hers as one hand slipped beneath her hair to stroke the muscles at the back of her neck. With his weight braced on the arm beneath her, the other hand rose to stroke the fluttering pulse at the base of her neck.

  The warm, callused fingers trailed over the slopes of her breasts as his words whispered against her lips. “If done correctly, the sense of touch increases the arousal.” His cheek touched hers before smoothing along the firm jut of her jaw. “The feel of a lover’s skin against a fingertip or cheek heightens the awareness, the knowledge of the inevitable conclusion just waiting for them.”

  The rasp of his evening beard seemed loud in the silence of the office. “Hearing adds to the tension building between a man and a woman. The rustling of fabric against fabric, or”—his hips pressed into hers, the feel of his hard length stilling her breath as he finished—“fabric against flesh, stirs images that stimulate and seduce.”

  His lips settled over hers, sipping at the curves, coaxing them open before delving inside to tangle his tongue with hers. Taking his time, he teased and taunted her with a rhythmic advance and retreat until her own lips sought his as he pulled away.

  “But one of the best things”—his voice was a raspy throb as he eased his hands from beneath her and moved down her body, pressing a sucking caress on a breast, a tug on a beaded nipple, a nip from his teeth to the light swell of her stomach—“is that the ‘Knock the Socks Off’ isn’t limited in where it can be used.”

  The breadth of his shoulders pressed her thighs apart as he dipped his head and settled his mouth over the damp curls hiding her sex. The first swipe of his tongue over the sensitive flesh had Mattie crying out. The second had her hips arching upward, her hands clutching at the leather beneath her.

  Around her waist, Bryce used one arm to reduce her movements while the second slipped between her thighs and parted the swollen petals, exposing the wet, pink flesh to his attentions. The vibrations of a rumbling growl set off tiny explosions through her center. Heat filled her belly and worked its way up through her chest and into her cheeks as the juices of her arousal seeped out. His hold kept her from pulling away, and the long, slow swipe of his tongue over her exposed flesh pulled another cry from her lips.

  Chapter Six

  “Christ.” His words were muffled against her skin as he feasted on the delicate flesh. “You taste so good, Lawrence. Sweet, but just a bit spicy.” Again she shifted beneath him, but he stilled her movements with his words. “The urge to spread you out and feast on you was hard to override on Saturday.”

  Lifting his head, he captured her gaze and continued, “But we needed to focus on setting the ground rules, so I held off.” Now that she’d broken one of them and taken her punishment without protest—or much of one—his reward for abstaining lay before him.

  Settling his grip more firmly at her hips, he stilled their rocking while using the fingers of his left hand to tease the hidden knot of nerves from beneath its hood. The discovery that his wish regarding the size and nature of her clitoris was granted had him pressing his aching cock into the leather seat beneath him. Testing her arousal was the primary goal of this particular exercise, Bryce reminded himself. The fact that one of the benefits happened to allow him to indulge in suckling and teasing her clit had no bearing on the situation.

  Stroking his tongue, and then his fingers, over the sensitive nubbin, Bryce monitored the various reactions of her body from the pulse of her hips, the increase in her respiration, to the steadily increasing production of juices. Sliding away from the knot he’d coaxed from its hiding place, Bryce slipped his fingers into the tight opening of her sheath. First one finger was introduced to the narrow channel. Stroking slowly, he carefully investigated the throbbing walls, searching out and finding the soft spots that stole her breath or caused the muscles to clutch at his digit.

  With his tongue and teeth stroking and nipping at the tiny bit of flesh, Bryce coaxed her tight pussy to accept a second digit. The way her body tensed had him pausing. Despite the moisture coating his fingers, the walls surrounding them resisted deeper penetration. His thumb replaced his mouth on her clit as he lifted his gaze to her face. Slow, deliberate pressure increased the flush of arousal reddening her breasts, neck, and cheeks, but the difficulty in advancing remained.

  Before he could ponder his suspicions further, the flutter of her intimate flesh and the shuddering breaths signaled her approaching climax. Needing to test her ability to hold off orgasm, he slipped his fingers free of her channel. Her protest filled the room as she released the cushions beneath her to clutch at his shoulders.

  “Hush,” Bryce ordered, fighting his own need to strip away his slacks and slide into her hot, wet pussy. Lifting his moist fingers to her lips, he coated the swollen, pink curves with her juices. “Taste, Lawrence,” he urged, holding her stunned gaze.

  Even as he watched her tongue tentatively sample her flavor, he moved his fingers to the stiff peaks of her breast, anointing each crest thoroughly. Heat flared in her eyes, and the pressure of her fingers on his shoulders would surely leave impressions from her short nails. Holding her gaze, he licked th
e last of her moisture from his fingertips before dipping his head toward her breasts.

  Millimeters from his goal, he stopped, lifted his head just enough to regain her attention, and ordered firmly, “No climaxing.” Leaving her little time to absorb his command, he fastened his lips around one nipple and concentrated on removing the residue of her passion from the hot, puckered tip.

  Beneath him, Mattie squirmed. Her hips thrust against his rock-hard cock while her fingers flexed, leaving more half-moon-shaped indentations in his skin. The heated flesh of her thighs wrapped around his waist. Pleas spilled out between gasps and moans, each sound increasing his arousal and determination to extend her passion for as long as possible.

  Long before he’d had enough, but not as soon as he’d expected, the first shudder of climax rippled through her body. She’d held herself still so long that he knew from her movements that she’d fought coming until gaining his permission. Returning his lips to hers, he sipped the last of her taste from her mouth, eased away and down, so her thighs once again bracketed his shoulders, and urged, “That’s it, Lawrence, come for me.”

  Another gasp slipped between her lips as the two fingers within her began thrusting in tandem with the attentions of his tongue on her clit. Yes, she’d touched herself and masturbated before, but the orgasms she’d attained had never been anything like this. The knot twisting tighter and tighter within her belly frightened her with its intensity. Her tits felt as if they would explode; they swelled, and the nipples were so hard she didn’t think they’d ever return to normal. Her eyes closed, her head tipped back, as she relinquished control and let herself drown in the sensations washing over her.

  Those last three words were her undoing. Unable to hold back her cries, she lost herself in the pulsing wash of orgasm. Stronger than any she’d created on her own, she was barely aware of the way her thighs squeezed tight around his shoulders. Moisture flooded her passage and coated her thighs. The swipe of Bryce’s tongue and the growl of approval rising from his chest as he lapped up her juices sent another wave of pleasure through her, surprising her at the almost-painful pulse of her body.

  Spent, her body feeling boneless and tired, Mattie lay beneath his rangy frame as he licked away all evidence of her climax. Aching but sated, she remained still, awaiting Bryce’s next direction. His first words were a bit of a surprise, but not unexpected considering how intense her reaction had been to his attentions.

  “I take it it’s been some time since you’ve had sex, huh?”

  “Mmmm-hmm,” Mattie responded, without giving away the whole truth. Try never. Of all the things she knew about Bryce, the one thing that worried her most was his avoidance of innocents. Having watched him over the years, and the relationships he’d drifted in and out of, Mattie concluded that a woman’s virginity was the last gift Bryce would want bestowed on him.

  Bryce shifted into a seated position, tugging her along so she straddled his lap, her wet pussy centered over his cock, held safely away from her flesh by the barrier of his slacks. One hand stroked the damp curls away from her cheeks and behind her ears, while the other seemed to measure the weight of her breasts, the beat of her heart, perhaps even the texture of her sweat-soaked skin as he smoothed his callused palm over her body. The lower it moved, the more ragged her breathing grew.

  Even as she thought to voice a protest at the arousing stroke of his fingertips, he slipped them between her thighs and had one finger buried knuckles deep inside her. Arching upward, her hands clutched at his shoulders. “Please.” She wasn’t quite sure what she was begging for, she only knew the need was growing again.

  His gaze held hers as he pulled her close; his free hand shifted from her cheek to the nape of her neck, and finally, to her back. “Please what, Lawrence?” Lips drifting against hers in a soft caress, he slid his hand against her back in counterpoint to the digit stroking the moist walls of her pussy.

  “I…” Mattie swallowed, her thoughts lost in the tangle of feelings his touch invoked. Unbidden, her body moved in the same rhythm as his touch. Rising and falling with the advance and retreat of each stroke of his finger.

  “Please what, Lawrence?” Bryce prompted again, his thumb coming into play against her sensitive clit. Circling, then applying just the lightest pressure to the nerve-rich tissue, he smiled against her lips. “Tell me.”

  “Uhmmmm.” Her eyes squeezed shut, the better to enjoy the building tension constricting her lower belly. Words were lost to her as she indulged her body’s need to ride the digit filling her.

  Teeth nipped at her ear, and his breath stirred the damp curls as he whispered, “Your ass isn’t the only part of you that needs stretching, huh, Lawrence?”

  A startled cry left her lips as he again tried to introduce a second finger into her taut sheath. Despite her earlier orgasm and the flow of her body’s own lubricating syrup, Mattie tensed at the painful stretching the new invader was creating. Even more confusing for her was the spike in arousal that bit of pain was producing.

  It went against so many preconceived notions that she’d held, this correlation of pain and pleasure. At the same time she railed at herself that the pain shouldn’t turn her on so much, a part of her was remembering the stirring his spanking had induced. The application of his hand against her ass followed by her sore butt against the sofa cushions had turned her on more than any other man she’d dated.

  Holding still, thighs tensed to avoid lowering herself farther onto his broad fingers, Mattie met his gaze. How could eyes that were usually so cool and emotionless when conducting business be so hot, intense? She wasn’t sure. But the darkening centers focused on her, as if he needed to gauge every emotion that flickered across her face.

  “Do it, baby,” he whispered, a blend of challenge and encouragement in his voice.

  The soft pressure of his thumb on her clit teased her. His hand on her back slipped upward. A twist and pull warned her that he’d tangled his free fingers in the loose curls spilling down her back and had her mouth opening on a gasp. His next words had the breath freezing in her lungs.

  “If we don’t get you stretched, darlin’, you’ll never be able to take my cock. And much as you like me paddlin’ your butt, that’s how much I’ve been cravin’ your sweet little candy box. You need to be able to take at least three fingers for me to fit, and even then, it’ll be tight.” His thick drawl hinted at how turned on he was.

  His words had her body soaking his hand, the flow of her cream dripping over and around his touch as she unlocked her muscles and lowered herself, centimeter by centimeter, onto his probing fingers. With each advance, a moan passed her lips, the blend of pain and pleasure intertwined, stirring the heat in her abdomen into a steady blaze. His whispered words of praise were a muted jumble of sound, indistinct encouragement registering, but not clear in the chaos of her mind. Images of repeating this same slow descent with his penis rather than his fingers stretching her had Mattie swallowing heavily to wet her desert-dry mouth. If his fingers feel this good, just how hot will his cock feel?

  She must have spoken the thought aloud because Bryce’s laughter preceded his words. “Like pure, fuckin’ heaven,” he assured her.

  * * *

  Settled in the darkness of his studio, Bryce gazed at the completed painting on the easel. His latest work sat in the center of the room. In the morning and afternoon, the broad expanse of windows on the twin sets of French doors and the skylight above allowed him the luxury of natural light to work in. Now, with the pale, milky wash of moonlight drifting over the stretched canvas, Bryce admired the image.

  The background was a mixture of colors: gold, amber, sienna, and walnut. Hues most complementary to the olive tone of Lawrence’s skin. Each of these shades accented her riot of chocolate curls and highlighted the voluptuous curves of her small frame.

  Every line, every curve his portrait revealed was taken from his imagination and eight years of careful, discreet observation. In a few days, his planning would come
to fruition. She would be his. His fingers tightened on the crystal rocks glass in his hand as he visualized his woman, just as he’d painted her.

  Arms bound above her head, pussy tight around his cock as he thrust in counterpoint to Richard’s advance and retreat within Mattie’s snug little ass. Each emotion would dance across her expressive features, heightening his arousal as her climax built. He could practically feel the wet clasp of her flesh. Hear the ragged breaths soughing in and out of her lips. Sense every subtle tightening of muscle as her body wound closer and closer to release, intensifying his own arousal until the rhythmic ride of his cock within her would escalate into a hammering frenzy of motion. Spiraling need demanding he and Richard fuck her harder, faster in order to assist her in achieving euphoric oblivion. Reaching for the single moment when every nerve in her body stretched to its very limit before snapping. Flinging her entire being into an ecstatic free fall that seemed to last forever and just the blink of an eye all at once.

  Bryce released the tight grip he had on the crystal as he envisioned the hazy, dreamlike quality his possession and sharing of her would produce in Mattie’s wide brown eyes. The deep chocolate color would turn black as she slipped into orgasm. Her strawberry lips would part with a gasping cry of his name, and her tight, wet cunt would squeeze his cock dry.

  Lifting his gaze back to the painting, Bryce smiled. He was looking forward to enacting his eight-year fantasy. After the events of this evening in his office, his imagination now had more material to work with. The grip of her sheath was tighter than he’d thought; just as the taste of her cream left him wanting more. As for the look on her face—his free hand dropped to stroke the hard evidence of his arousal—watching her come as she fucked herself on his fingers surpassed any fantasy he could have contemplated.

  With five more days to go, he knew the need to take her completely would test his control, but it would all be worth it once she married him. Introducing her to the world she’d been born to inhabit, it was his responsibility to protect her even as he pushed her boundaries. His own disquiet at the thought of sharing her would need to be harnessed, despite his never having experienced it with any of his other lovers. Once he’d shared Lawrence with Richard, everything would return to normal. He had to keep reminding himself of that. It was all falling into place.