Yours for the Night (34 page)

“Condom,” she managed, shoving her evening bag into Dax’s hand. She never traveled light.

Streetlights along the road flashed over the hood of the car as it glided through the near-empty neighborhood, then headed downhill toward the vast blackness of the ocean.

Sliding forward, balancing herself with hands on both front seats, she felt Dax’s fingers work the condom on. Her driver—yes, hers—the padded shoulder of his jacket lay only an inch from her fingertips. She stretched, touched, dug her nails in deep enough for him to feel through the material. He grunted.

She almost came.

Holding the hem of her dress out of the way, revealing her pussy to the hungry gaze in the mirror, Dax lifted her hips. He pulled her back, breaching her with the head of his cock. She moaned, closed her eyes, held still to relish the feel of him, just there, right there, pulsing. Then she snapped her lids open because she couldn’t miss a moment. Clutching the seat in front of her, fingertips still connected to her big, beautiful driver, she pushed back and took 216

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Dax’s every magnificent inch deep inside.

“Oh yes.” She spoke for all of them. Then she rode him hard, his grip guiding, her breasts bouncing, her nipples breaking free of the dress’s scooped neckline. One hand still in contact with the beefy shoulder, she pinched her nipple hard. A lightning strike zinged to her clitoris. Inside, Dax touched a spot high and deep, forcing a cry from her lips.

Ahead lay the ocean and a red light. God, she was plainly visible fucking a man in the backseat. While the street wasn’t crowded, neither was it completely empty. If they had to stop for that light, anyone could see them. The risk made her hotter, slippery, wild.

“Touch yourself,” Dax demanded. Maybe he didn’t see the light. Probably he didn’t care.

The Latino didn’t slow, as if he wasn’t even aware of the intersection. They were going to die, fly straight into the ocean. Yet she rode the edge of orgasm, incapable of stopping until Dax’s cock reached all the way to her throat. At the last moment, the light flashed to green, and they careened around the corner with a high-pitched squeal. She held on tight, her knuckles white against the driver’s black jacket until the car straightened. He reached out to raise the mirror, focusing it on her face.

“Touch yourself.” Dax’s harsh voice rasped at her ear. “Your left hand.”

So much, too much, overload, yet she wanted everything he asked for. She had to do it or die. Her pussy was coated with her own cream, the nub of her clitoris so sensitive it almost hurt to touch. A raw pleasure-pain swept through her.

“Let him scent you on your fingers.”

The thought made her dizzy. The way Dax must have felt watching that nubile girl take her clothes off, revealing herself, performing for him. Noelle raised her hand once again to the seat in front of her. Dax held her hips still, took control of her body, pistoned deep. And Noelle stretched for the hot young man to smell the perfume of her come. She was close enough to hear his breath, hard puffs through his nostrils. Then he grabbed her fingers in one big hand, his gaze capturing hers in the mirror as he pulled them to his mouth, sucking her juice from her skin.

Dax’s cock inside her, this big sexy man sucking on her, it was more than she could take, more than she’d ever had. Then Dax whispered, “Come. Come now.”

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And she was lost.

She burst into flames, screamed, and let her body drag her under, either to heaven or to hell.

HOLY HELL. SHE LAY IN ORGASMIC EXHAUSTION ACROSS HIS LAP, her hair obscuring her face, her breathing in the easy rhythm of sleep. Or she’d passed out. She’d come so hard, Dax didn’t dismiss the idea. Disposing of the condom, smoothing her dress, pulling her close—nothing had disturbed her.

“Where to, sir?”

“I think it’s time to take us home, Manuel.”

“Your home or hers, sir?

He answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Mine.”

Manuel made a slow, careful U-turn, unlike the left he’d made while Dax had been buried hilt deep in her.

He’d planned to have her suck him in the back of the car, visible to Manuel in the front seat. The rest of it? She’d inspired him. He’d watched her watching Manuel—in the mirror, mesmerized by her moans, her sounds, her dilated pupils—and the familiar ache rose in him. He’d wanted to test her limits, see how far she’d let him take her the first time. When she’d touched Manuel’s shoulder, he was a goner. He’d fucked her deep and come hard as Manuel licked her come from her fingers.

It was beyond voyeurism. Yet it only whet his appetite for more of her. God, the things he wanted her to do for him.

He stroked her shoulder. She didn’t stir. “Thank you, Manuel, I appreciate your participation. I trust we didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

A passing car lit Manuel’s face, and his smile. “It was my pleasure to help out, sir.”

When he had need of a driver, he always chose Manuel. And it just so happened that Manuel also drove for Courtesans. Coincidence? He preferred to think of it as providence.

She turned then, as if she’d heard his thought. Providence. Divine intervention. She opened her lovely eyes, pushed her hair back from her face, and gazed at him through long lashes.

“That was incredible,” she whispered, her voice almost reverent in the quiet 218

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glide of the car along the street.

He nodded, oddly overcome, with no words better than hers. She pushed herself up, twisted slightly to look out the side window. “Where are we?”

“On our way home.”

She blinked. It was enough of a question.

“My home.”

She didn’t argue, didn’t ask if Manuel was coming in to fuck her, too, or if Dax would take her alone this time. She simply laid her head down upon his lap and wound one arm around his waist. “Wake me when we get there.”

SHE SHOULD HAVE CARED WHERE HE WAS TAKING HER AND WHAT he planned for her once they got there. She should have called Isabel or someone at Courtesans to let them know where she’d be. Instead she simply snuggled into the warmth of his body, his salty male scent teasing her, the gentle glide of his fingers over her skin lulling her.

The car rocked into the turns, then finally slowed to a stop. She heard them talking but was too sated to listen.

This was better than Pistachio Crème and Blue Moon all rolled into one. First the rooftop dinner, the sexy talk, sharing secrets, then the hardness of his cock inside her and the heat of Manuel’s gaze, his tongue caressing her fingers. The car door opened, and she felt herself lifted against Dax’s firm chest, her shoes dangling from one hand. She wasn’t petite and couldn’t fathom how he carried her so easily. Cold air caressed her, the salt of the ocean tickled her nose, the crash of waves was like music.

He lived on the edge of cliff overlooking the ocean outside the Golden Gate. With the beep of a remote he unlocked his front door. The aroma of expensive leather permeated the house. A wall of windows stretched across the back, only blackness beyond.

Upstairs in the bedroom, he let her feet slide to the floor. Holding her against him, pulling her arms around his neck to steady her, he reached behind to unzip her dress. He backed off, allowing the silk to pool at her feet, then lifted her out of it.

“Get into bed, sleepyhead.”

She wasn’t sleepy, she was dazed, and she adored the way he pampered her. 219

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No one had ever carried her before.

She was wet for a slow, lazy fuck in his big bed. When he raised the covers, she slid between cotton sheets. The soft pad of his feet headed across the carpet, a light went on, water ran, sounds, the rustle of clothing.

Then his warm body heated her back. “Spread your legs,” he murmured, his breath minty with toothpaste.

What delicious thing did he have planned now? She parted her thighs. Draping her leg over his, he pressed a heated washcloth against her pussy. Oh God. He was cleaning her, soothing the flesh he’d ridden.

“God, that feels good.”

“You worked hard. You deserve it.”

She tipped her head back to look at him. He was an inky spot in the dark. “I was very naughty for you.”

“Yes, you were. It was too fucking hot for words.”

She laughed from deep in her belly, satisfied. He leaned back and tossed the washcloth. It landed with a wet thwap, then he surrounded her.

“Go to sleep, baby.” His voice was like a lullaby. She was sure he’d wake her in the night and take her. Again and again. She fell asleep dreaming about his tongue on her.

She woke twice to the darkness and his even breathing. He never moved, never let her go.

In her chest, something grew. In her sweetest fantasies, she’d dreamed of this, a hot, naughty episode, one special man watching, even participating, then afterward, his heat all over her.

She’d never been able to ask it of her husbands, not any of them. She hadn’t stopped wanting the men she’d married; she’d just needed excitement. It had become an obsession. Each time. Ruining everything. She’d hated herself for cheating.

But what if she’d had this? A man whose excitement peaked when other men wanted her. His voyeuristic needs fueling her desires. She fell asleep once more to dream of Dax watching her go down on another man.

In the morning, he was gone, the bed and the house empty. Her stomach trembled. He’d left her cash and a note.

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“When’s your next Courtesan date?”

Thank you, God. For a moment, she’d thought he was giving her the brushoff. For the first time in a long time, she couldn’t bear not to see a man again. This man.

She held the note to her chest. Her heart swelled. Infatuation. Lust at first sight. It was exactly what she’d been waiting for. 221

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5

“TELL ME ABOUT HIM,” DAX CAJOLED HER.

Almost two weeks later, Thursday night, ten p.m. Dax lay naked on the bed, lights off, Bluetooth in his ear, cock in his hand, Noelle’s voice making him hard.

“He’s close to six feet, a hundred and ninety pounds, nice, thick medium brown hair, brown eyes, about my age, a very nice smile and—” She paused; Dax could hear the rumble of a male voice, then she laughed, the music of it making his dick twitch. “And he told me to tell you he’s incredibly hot.”

“Do you think he’s hot?”

“Mmm.” The purr thrummed along his cock.

“Have you ever done him before?”

“No, he’s new. From—” She paused again. “Fargo, North Da kota. Can you believe that? Just like the movie. It’s snowing back there.”

“Tell him to get naked, but I want you to keep your clothes on.”

She snapped her fingers right near the mouthpiece. “Off. Now.”

She’d gone on three dates since he’d seen her, and after each one, she’d called him, described in detail the things she’d done, turning him inside out with her erotic words and sexy voice. Then on Tuesday, she’d informed him she’d arranged a date for Thursday night with a guy willing to play their game, allowing Dax to listen in. The man probably found it hot as hell. She was going in hands free and plugged in, ready to do anything. It was too fucking hot. Dax had always wanted this. He’d once had a woman friend who called him after she’d fucked another guy, but he’d never had every facet illustrated for him, punctuated by the emotion she felt and the sounds she made.

He’d never had a woman like Noelle. She was addictive. The night she’d lain in his arms had been heaven. He’d never slept so well, hated to leave her in the morning, and he wouldn’t have except for an early golf date with a major supplier. If he’d known the effect she would have, literally enthralling him, he’d have canceled the game despite the fact that a lot of business was conducted over golf.

“Oh my God, Dax, he’s huge.” Awe dripped from her voice. Male laughter drifted to him. He closed his eyes and lightly stroked his dick. 222

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Not too much yet; he wanted his tension to rise as theirs did, as if he were in the room.

“Describe it to me.”

She made little noises, and a deep voice reached across the distance. “That’s it, baby, take a real good look.” She’d obviously moved closer.