Dirty Devil / The Fling. Stefanie London

tasting him. His flavour was rich and salty and suddenly I was starving for more.

      I licked around the sensitive head, holding on tight, teasing the ring then playing a little with it, and he groaned.

      It echoed through me, settling down between my thighs, making the hungry ache that pulsed there even worse. Because for once in my life I wasn’t hiding. I wasn’t passing by unnoticed.

      I had his attention. I was right in the spotlight. And it made me feel brave.

      So I lifted my gaze to his as I slid him deep into my mouth, sucking gently, wanting to see the expression on his face. It was tight, his features drawn in harsh lines, almost a snarl twisting his beautiful mouth. His gaze was electric and there was nothing of the charming storyteller I’d seen on the terrace in him at all now. This was nothing but raw, primal masculinity.

      A shiver coursed through me, my sex throbbing.

      If this was what a blow job was like every time, then I could get used it.

      I held his gaze as I sucked him, watching pleasure blaze like a fire in his eyes, and he watched me in return, so intently it was as if he was trying to imprint me onto his memory.

      A sliver of doubt crept under my skin, a bone-deep instinct murmuring that the way this man was looking at me could put my entire livelihood in danger.

      But for once I couldn’t bring myself to care. I didn’t want to be like Mr Chen, dying alone, unnoticed and un-mourned by anyone except me. I wanted to have one person remember me, just one. To feel as though I’d been part of the world in some small way.

      Blackwood lifted his hands. His long fingers were in my hair and I braced myself for him to hold on tight. But he didn’t. He simply pulled his fingers gently through my hair over and over, his hips beginning to move as I sucked.

      ‘Yes,’ he murmured, his voice hot, dark and rich, like melted chocolate. ‘Yes, Sugar. That’s so good.’

      All thoughts of Mr Chen vanished. The note of heat in the words stroked down my spine like a touch, the ache between my legs intensifying. I gripped him tighter, sucking harder.

      ‘Fuck, yeah.’ He spread his fingers out, cradling my head, massaging my skull. ‘Love the way you’re doing that. Fucking unbelievable.’

      Something shifted inside me at the praise, something vulnerable and needy. I sucked even harder, teasing the ring with my teeth, and he groaned, his hips moving faster, sliding his cock deeper.

      His features were twisted in agonised pleasure and he still didn’t look away from me, his fingers firm on my scalp. He was looking at me as if he’d never seen anything like me before in his whole life. ‘You’re going to make me come, Sugar,’ he growled. ‘Is that what you want? Are you going to take everything I give you?’

      I couldn’t do anything but nod, because I did. I wanted to make him come; I wanted the hot taste of him to scare away the dark.

      And he was as good as his word; he was careful of me as he began to thrust harder, holding me steady. I gripped him tight with one hand, the other spread on his rock-hard thigh for balance, sucking hard as he gave one last deep thrust then came, a growling curse escaping him, his head going back, his hips shuddering.

      I swallowed him down, thick and hot and salty, watching the tension in his face, the cords of his neck tight, his jaw rigid.

      Because, if I wanted him to remember me, I wanted to remember him too. Damian Blackwood in my power, brought to the edge by little old me.

       Don’t get too confident. Remember what you’re here to do.

      Realisation washed through me, cold and unwelcome.

      Oh, yes, that’s right. The necklace. No matter what I’d done to Blackwood, I still hadn’t finished here.

      The silence had deepened around us, punctuated only by the faint thump of the music outside and the sound of his harsh breathing. The salty, masculine scent of his body surrounded me, underlain by that warm spice.

      The ache between my thighs was hot, demanding.

       Get up and run. Now. While he’s still recovering.

      But my legs felt rubbery and his hand was still in my hair, stroking me, and I didn’t want to move. Besides, if I ran now, I wouldn’t get the necklace and not being able to fulfil a client’s request wouldn’t exactly help keep Mr Chen’s business afloat.

      No, I needed to stay. Occupy Blackwood’s attention enough that he wouldn’t ask me awkward questions, then wait until he eventually went to sleep so I could have some time to look around without being interrupted.

      He was leaning back against the window now, his eyes half-closed, his impressive chest rising and falling with his quickened breaths. His fingers were still moving in my hair, massaging my scalp gently, and it felt so good I didn’t want to move away.

      I shut my eyes, leaning my forehead against his taut stomach, the tension in my muscles relaxing under the pressure of his fingers, even as a different kind of tension—the one situated between my thighs—got even tighter.

      ‘That was perfect,’ Blackwood murmured into the silence. ‘Fucking perfect. But I’m thinking I need to return the favour.’

      Return the favour. Did that mean...?

       Yes, of course that’s what it means.

      I broke out in a sweat, a surge of adrenaline stealing my breath and putting my pulse into overdrive. I couldn’t tell if it was fear, excitement or a combination of the two. Probably a combo. Which shouldn’t work but somehow it did.

      ‘Well?’ he purred, his fingers gently massaging down the back of my neck, making me want to sigh in pure, sensual pleasure. ‘Would you like that, Sugar? Would you like me to put my mouth on you? Get you off the way you did for me?’

      Another surge of adrenaline hit me, making me breathless. ‘Yes,’ I gasped out, before I had a chance to think twice. ‘I would like it.’

      The massaging fingers stopped and I nearly moaned in protest as he drew them away, quickly sorting out his own clothing before helping me up off the floor. Once again he was gentle, handling me carefully as he urged me over to his desk, but nervousness collected in my gut all the same.

      To distract myself, I looked around at the pristine work surface of his desk. ‘Is this really your office? Looks like you barely live in here, let alone work in here.’

      ‘I don’t work in here.’ He eased me up onto the desktop, his grip firm, urging me to sit back on it. ‘I’m not a fan of sitting still.’

      My curiosity tightened, the instinct to get more information from him irresistible. ‘So where do you work, then?’

      He gave me one of those wicked smiles. ‘In bed.’

      Oh, yes, I could see him sitting in a massive bed heaped with pillows, wrapped in nothing but a crisp, white cotton sheet, all those colourful tattoos and hard muscles on show, tapping industriously on a laptop...

      Warm hands wrapped around my ankles, easing them apart, and the image of him in bed working fractured then shattered. His fingers were so hot, painting fire on my bare skin, and he was watching me with that single-minded focus. As if I was the centre of his universe.

      ‘Let your knees fall open,’ he murmured, the look in his silver eyes making me dizzy.

      I’d wanted to be in his spotlight and, now that I was, I could hardly breathe.

      Slowly, I leaned back on my hands and let my knees fall wide, the fabric of my uniform sliding up, the subtle stretch of my inner thigh muscles a surprisingly erotic sensation.

      ‘Perfect.’ Blackwood pulled out the chair and seated himself at the desk, right between my thighs, as if he was sitting down for a meal.

       And you’re his meal.