“Hey...” I mutter, my eyes dancing on his lashes.

  He tips his gaze up, and looks deep into my eyes, making me lose my train of thought.

  Slowly, he takes my hand before he lowers his lips to mine.

  At first, he kisses the corner of my lips and then my cheek and the skin below my earlobe before he presses his lips against my neck.

  I feel a swarm of goosebumps on my arms, and soft tingles swirling down my legs.

  “I can’t wait to take your dress off,” he mutters, sliding his palm down my neck.

  I suck in air and hold it in my lungs as I breathlessly relish the feel of his touch tracing down my spine.

  Gentle fingers, learning my body as if he touches me for the first time.

  I feel naked in his arms, my nipples poking at my dress, my silky panties getting damp with warm wetness.

  “We should really get going,” I say.

  He breathes out an amused chuckle.

  “You’re probably right,” he says, the tension in his voice alluding that he might need to adjust his erection.

  My eyes dip.

  He takes my hand and spins me around before he runs his fingers through his hair.

  “Yes, I’m hard,” he says, grinning amused as he walks me to the elevator. “I’ve been hard since I left your place this morning.”

  We have dinner at Le Bernardin in the Theater District before we rush to the Met Opera.

  The evening unfolds smoothly, the music, my surroundings, and his presence making it unforgettable.

  Throughout the hours that we spend together, I can’t but look at him and study him as if he is my new favorite puzzle.

  I find him intriguing, mysterious, passionate, attentive, and full of contrasts. His manners are impeccable––this is not the first time I notice it, and his undivided attention to me beyond flattering.

  As my mind sifts through the moments we’ve had together, I find myself captivated by him without a chance of holding myself back or taming my enthusiasm.

  Not that I want to. And not that he gives me any reasons to, and yet I’m doing my best not to lose my head over him. Although I’m afraid that ship has sailed already.

  “Did you like it?” he asks as we near our limo afterward.

  “I love it.”

  The driver holds the door open for us as we climb in and slide onto the back bench. He gives instructions to the man on where we’re going before the driver walks around the car and settles in his seat, behind the privacy screen.

  The door on Christian’s side closes with a muffled sound before he turns to me.

  “I can’t come to your place tonight,” he says.

  His voice is smooth, yet his words explode in my ears like firecrackers.

  What?

  I do my best to keep my expression under control and take the news with a smile. Except that my smile refuses to stay put on my lips and keeps sliding off.

  “You don’t like my bed?” I ask, trying to give the news a humorous spin.

  “I have to wake up early in the morning, and be rested,” he says.

  Is he implying that he might be up for some physical activity early in the morning?

  My stomach drops.

  “Is this another way of saying that I wear you out?” I tease, using the same light voice, hoping not to give away my irritation.

  “Not at all,” he says, smiling as if he knows what goes through my mind.

  Our limo rolls smoothly to a stop as we hit a portion of the road that is under construction.

  “It’s really important,” he says, sliding his hand to my thigh.

  Puzzled, I bite my lip.

  There’s nothing I can say to him.

  We just spent the perfect night together, and his schedule is his schedule. My annoyance with the situation is my problem.

  Why can’t I be as cool about it as he is?

  That’s what gets on my nerves.

  I finally find the power to talk.

  “Okay,” I say with a clipped voice.

  His eyes don’t leave my face.

  I look down as if it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to leave the impression that I’m clingy, and for the most part, I am not–– not that I know of, but for some reason, I feel as if he set me up.

  Helping me to have certain expectations, making me anticipate, whetting my appetite the entire evening, teasing me before we left my place.

  What was that all about?

  I can’t believe that I’m pissed that he doesn’t make himself available for me, that I crave sex with him, and now he delays gratification.

  Was this a trap from the get-go?

  “Are you okay?” he asks as the car begins to roll but only for a few moments before it stops again.

  “Yes, I’m perfectly fine,” I say, sounding fake.

  He slides his hand up my thigh while I turn my eyes away from him.

  He leans closer to me.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” he murmurs in my ear, making my skin tingle and my nipples harden.

  His grin tells me that he’s having fun–– teasing me and all.

  “I am not mad,” I say, my teeth gritting.

  “You are so fucking mad...” he murmurs, smiling again, dragging his breath across my cheek to my lips, before settling it on my mouth.

  I clench my thighs and move my knees away from him as I get tense and feel a rush below my waist.

  With one smooth gesture, he opens my coat and slips his hands inside my sleeves, sliding it off my shoulders.

  I let it fall, but I move an inch away from him, despite the fact that I crave his touch.

  “I don’t like games, Christian,” I say.

  “It’s not a game,” he says seriously this time, prompting me to turn my eyes to him.

  He has one arm curled around my shoulders, his free hand sliding up my thigh slowly.

  “Why do you tease me so much if it’s not a game?”

  “It’s not a game,” he says, his hand not stopping.

  His palm slips to the apex of my thighs, sweeps my stomach and heads to my chest.

  My nipples feel like little pebbles when he slides his hand onto my mounds.

  “It’s not a game,” he says again, this time looking down, teasing the small nub of hard flesh through the fabric of my dress.

  “Where do you need to be in the morning?”

  “You can come with me if you want to.”

  A part of my angst evaporates.

  “It’s a sports club,” he says as he feels my stare on him.

  He lifts his gaze from my chest.

  “Are you working out or something?”

  He clicks his tongue, kneading my breasts. The more he does it, the more difficult it is to have a decent conversation.

  The limo starts moving before it stops again, a moment later.

  “It’s more than that,” he says as I toss a distracted glance to the dark partition wall.

  “It’s a sports promo event.”

  My eyebrows push up as I shoot him a questioning look.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m getting paid,” he says as if he wants to add a layer of legitimacy to the morning event.

  “So it’s more like work.”

  Tilting his chin down, he flashes a grin.

  “Not exactly, but yeah...”

  Slowly, I start to relax and slacken in my seat.

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes. You could’ve told me that from the beginning.”

  He leans to me again, this time slipping his hand below my skirt, making the trip up to my thigh high silky stockings, reaching the skin between my thighs and then my panties.

  His lips are on my neck, but my mind is focused on his hand.

  Slowly, he touches my folds through the thin fabric.

  “I could’ve...” he says quietly and then pauses for effect. “But how else would I have gotten you all worked up?” he adds teasingly.

  “I’m sure you would’ve found a different way,” I mutter flirtatiously as I get swept into his little game.

  “Leave it to me, baby,” he says amused, his thumb running little circles on my clit.

  A wave of warmth surges through me.

  “If you’re doing this only to drop me home...”

  My voice trails off as he bites my neck.

  “I said leave it to me,” he says, grinning and demanding at the same time.

  A quiet laugh vibrates in my chest.

  “I like it when you’re bossy.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he says nasally, grazing my neck with his teeth again, and swirling the tip of his tongue on a small patch a skin before he bites me one more time.

  My back arches, his fingers smoothly slipping inside my panties.

  I cuff his wrist.

  “We’re not alone, Christian.”

  “The driver doesn’t hear us,” he murmurs.

  “We’ll get home in a few minutes or so.”

  Without peeling his eyes from mine, he slips his hand into his pocket and retrieves his phone.

  He glances at the screen only for a few seconds, enough to type a message to the driver.

  The cell phone slips into his pocket.

  “He’ll take us home when I give him the instructions to do so,” he says, looking at me this time.

  My smile drops from my lips.

  “I’ve never done this before,” I say seriously.

  “I know. That’s why I want you to do it with me.”

  6

  Eve

  He no longer smiles as if the whole point of this evening was to get me to this moment, and perhaps to test me, to make me walk onto a different path than the one I usually take.

  “Are you sure?” I ask as I glance at the privacy screen again.

  This is to me as close as it could be to having sex in a public space.

  He waits for me to shift my eyes to him.

  “Don’t be afraid...” he murmurs, smiling warmly, tempting me.

  Compelling me.

  Slowly, he snakes his arm around my waist and starts tugging at my panties.

  The light fabric of my thong slips down to my thighs after he nudges me to lift my bottom so that he can pull them off my hips.

  He slides them all the way down and peels them off with ease. Off they go into his pocket.

  A teasing arousing sensation sweeps my bare sex.

  There’s freedom in having my sex exposed to the warm air beneath my skirt even if I’m are trapped in a limo with a beautiful man and a driver who pretends that he has no idea what is going on in the back. Not to mention the workers who patch the road outside while the arctic air dances on the streets.

  I can think of a thousand ways in which this naughty adventure could turn into a disaster. If the partition wall malfunctions and goes down all of a sudden, if someone knocks on the window to ask a question, or if a cop stops the car.

  And yet, my mind has no say, my body all stirred up, hungry to experience feelings and sensations and emotions.

  And he sure knows how to whip up a storm.

  His lips going down my neck again, loving every inch of skin. His arm curling around me as I shift to face him. And his hand brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs before gently touching my slit and my folds.

  This is going down fast–– faster than I thought.

  As his hand draws trips of pleasure on my skin, he quickly brings me to the point where I no longer care that I’m almost naked on the back bench of a limo, and in vicinity of other people.

  He presses his thumb between my folds while I slide my hand to his groin.

  Rock hard, he parts his legs giving me access to his sex. That move alone makes my blood simmer with lust.

  “Come to me,” he says, tossing me a drunken stare that makes me shiver in pleasure.

  I inch closer, his hand already on my neckline. His fingers already peeling my dress off my shoulders. Already finding my erected nipples.

  His arm already snaking around my flank and touching my bare back.

  “Oh.... damn it...” I mutter as he splays his hand on my smooth skin.

  I grab his erection, squeezing it through the fabric of his pants.

  He tears my hand away only to pull his zipper down and free his cock out of his boxers shorts.

  Touching his silky skin makes me shudder in delight, the sensation also bringing to me the awareness that we are doing this for real.

  Real is his hand slipping inside my dress, following the swell of my butt. And also real is the whisper of the zipper going down parting my dress at the back.

  Before I know it, my shell of a tightly woven acetate knit falls from my body and here I am––– aside for a pair of thigh high stockings that barely cling to my thighs and my heels, I’m completely naked by his side.

  He looks at me with hungry eyes, his fingers sliding into my hair.

  Gently, he brings his lips to mine.

  “You are so beautiful...” he purrs against my lips as I wind my free arm around his neck, pressing myself against his chest.

  My skin ripples with pleasure as I feel the smoothness of his cotton shirt and the lapels of his brushed wool jacket, and his hand sliding up between my thighs.

  “Open for me, baby.”

  Propped on my side, hand wrapped around his shaft I move one thigh to his lap, spreading my legs.

  “Fucking good...” he mutters with a heavy voice, throbbing against my touch.

  This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.

  Remotely, I register that the car starts moving again, and for once, it doesn’t stop.

  Somehow, the idea that we are no longer stuck in traffic alleviates some of my fears. But fear is good. It makes me taste the thrill and chase the pleasure. It heightens every bit of rawness that I feel.

  He shifts in his seat and spreads his legs to relieve the tension building in his groin, to get a better angle as he strokes my sex.

  I look down.

  “Look at me, baby...”

  I swing my gaze up.

  His eyes are hazy with pleasure, his lips glistening. A smile flashes, embroidered in his gaze.

  “Don’t think about anything right now... Just enjoy it.”

  His words enter my brain and disperse pleasure through my body.

  I tilt my hips. He curls his fingers.

  “That’s perfect...” he purrs again, slowly probing my wetness, sliding a finger into me.

  I shudder in delight again, my fingers sinking into the back of his neck.

  He leans back while I tilt forward, chasing his touch. He slides a second finger in and starts moving them. Carefully. Making sure that he doesn’t hurt me.

  His touch sliding against my walls soaked in wetness.

  My eyes stay locked with his as he pushes a teasing smile to his lips.

  “Come...” he says again.

  I dip my gaze to his parted lips only for a moment before I crash my mouth onto his.

  He locks me fiercely–– biting my lip, plucking my breath out of my lungs, giving me a good taste of the passion simmering in his blood while thrusting his fingers into me.

  A moan fills my mouth and then another, and then I start to move my hips meeting his touch, rocking my body against his frame, grinding against him, stroking his erection with my hand and also rubbing it against my sex.

  The fervor escalates pretty quickly, his grip hardening on my hair, his thumb circling my clit as his fingers keep slipping into me, and his cock gets heavier and heavier, arched upwardly, damp with pre-cum at the tip.

  I tense against him, starved for his mouth, kissing his lips, sucking on his tongue.

  He bites my lip one last time before he pulls his fingers away from me, grabs me by the waist, lifts me and hops me on his lap.

  Slowly, I slide down on him, goosebumps growing on my skin. I can’t go down all the way, not without feeling pain, so I start to grind.

  He grabs my butt cheeks and starts to guide me while I prop my hands against his shoulders and hover over him.

  His breaths come faster, and so do mine.

  And then his mouth comes to my chest, his lips sucking on a nipple. I barely crush a crying moan.

  Heaving, I press my breast against his mouth, my fingers latched onto his hair.

  He bites my nipple, rolling it between his teeth before he sucks on it again.

  Every stroke, and ever lick pushes me closer to the edge.

  “Oh, fuck me…” I breathe out, taken by surprise of how fast I begin to climb.

  It seems impossible to stop myself as my body moves against his, and my hips keep rolling.

  “It’s so good...” I mumble, sweat trickling down my chest.

  He moves his mouth to the other breast while he tears a hand from my butt and starts kneading my other mound.

  It takes seconds before I lose control and he grabs me forcefully, holding me against his body, giving me the final thrusts as we both experience climax.

  I come, growling. And light flashing in front of my eyes.

  7

  Christian

  A smile slides onto her face as she feels relief and calming pleasure. Her image etches on my mind right that very second.

  Her hair tangled, damp, falling over her face. Her face flushed, and her lips plumped and wet and glistening. Her eyelids heavy, sliding slowly on her eyes. Her chest heaving, tits full and swollen, tips poking at the air.

  Catching my breath, I observe her basking in the afterglow of her orgasm–– my eyes heavy as well, my eyelids lowered too, my hunger for her far from quenched.

  I move my gaze down to her tapered waist before my eyes slide onto her hips, her spread legs, and smooth sex.

  Slowly, I retrieve my phone.

  “What are you doing?” she asks with a drunk voice.

  I swipe the screen.

  “Taking a picture of you.”

  Self -awareness falls through her.

  “No,” she protests softly.

  “Yes. I want your sexy pictures.”

  “No,” she says, smiling.

  “Yes,” I say, taking the first snapshot.

  “No face.”

  “Lips.”

  I flick my phone and show her the photo.

  She takes my cell from my hand and studies her picture.