But his fingers deftly work at his belt and then the button slips free. The quiet teeth of the zipper sound loud from my proximity, and then I see the thick ridge of his fully erect cock covered by black cotton. I lean forward, nuzzling it against my cheek as I walk my fingers to the waistband of his boxer briefs.
I hold my breath as I pull the cotton down, revealing his hard length. There’s a clear drop of precum on the tip, and I lick my lips, imagining how he tastes.
“Elle . . .” He’s muttering deep and dark, barely words. I feel like all the power is in my hands, or well, in my mouth, and whether I choose to give him what we both desperately want.
I lap at his slit, groaning as his salty-sweet flavor covers my tongue. I kiss the crown and then envelop him in my mouth, taking him deeper and deeper with every bobbing movement of my head. I hum against him, feeling the vibrations in my palms where I grip his base.
He steps forward, blocking me in the car. If anyone came into the garage right now, they’d see him air humping his car, not knowing that my open mouth was right here in the passenger seat, gobbling him down.
He fucks my mouth, his intensity building as he gets impossibly harder in my mouth. “Fuck . . .” he grits out a moment before I feel his balls tighten up against my fist and then the first spurts of his cum splash across my tongue. I swallow him down, not wanting to miss a drop.
My legs scissor, and I know I’m soaked through with desire. I just blew my boss in the parking garage after our first date . . . was this a date? I should be freaking out right now, but the thought turns me on even more, giving me the same high that a successful dare does even though this dare was for him.
“Holy shit,” Colton whispers softly, more emotion than I would’ve expected post-orgasm from a powerful man like him. “Let’s go.”
He takes his cock from my mouth, and I whimper like he’s taking away my favorite candy. He quickly adjusts his underwear and half-ass fastens his pants, leaving the belt undone in favor of grabbing my arm to help me from the car.
He hustles me toward an elevator that seems unexpectedly fancy for a parking garage. But as the doors close and we rise just one floor up, the glass walls suddenly make sense. The view takes my breath away as we float higher and higher into the air, the entire town unveiling itself slowly as we climb toward the clouds.
“How do you leave your place with views like this?”
Colton chuckles and steps behind me, his hands resting on my hips as he lightly presses his body against me, almost the way he kept doing on the putt-putt course. I still can’t believe I got him to do that, but I arch instinctively now the way I wanted to then. My ass presses back toward him, and my nipples harden in my bra as I lift my chest. “I’ve seen much prettier things tonight.”
I know he wants to take me right here in the elevator, both of us riding a torrid tidal wave of sexual arousal that would steam up the glass walls of this great elevator. But he holds back, wanting to draw this out.
Because he’s not on edge the same way I am. I’m hungry, needy, ready for this.
The elevator dings, opening up to reveal a sight even more opulent and stunning than the elevator ride. The far wall of the space is two floors tall, sloping with the slant of the building’s roof downward to the doors to an outside balcony that rings half the building.
The inside’s just as beautiful as the outside. Just as classically opulent as his office, everything’s high quality, black marble and cherry wood, chocolate-brown leather and high-end electronics. It looks exactly how I’d expect, like a British bachelor pad.
“Nice place,” I say with a wink. Nice is the understatement of the century.
Colton gestures to the couch, his lips twitching at my slight. “Have a seat.”
I sit down, and Colton goes to the open kitchen area, where a cabinet door reveals a well-stocked liquor cabinet. “What’s your poison?” he asks, already pouring himself a whiskey.
He’s slowing us down, something I don’t want. I want the unrestrained lust we were floating in moments ago, the mindless drive of our bodies toward one another, and the pleasure pinging from him to me and back again. I don’t want to think. I want to do.
My blood rushes in my ears as I stand up, heading over to the kitchen to pluck the whiskey tumbler from Colt’s fingers. “Whatever you’re having,” I purr, letting the liquid rush down my throat. It’s smoky, deep, and rich . . . like him.
He takes the now-empty tumbler back, setting it on the counter behind him. His thumb comes up to trace my lip as he lowers his head toward mine. His tongue peeks out, licking at me, tasting the whiskey from my lips. Before he even truly kisses me again, he pulls back, eyes searching mine.
“So?” he questions me, but I don’t know what about, nor can I pull together a reasonable thought right now.
Fuck him, get fucked by him. Missionary, doggie, sixty-nine, pretzel, cowgirl, prone bone, butter churner.
My brain is listing out sex positions like a Cosmopolitan writer who moonlights for Penthouse and consults for Pornhub.
“So?” I repeat cluelessly.
His grin is pure arrogant bastard. “The dare was to come home with me and do what you want with me. So, what do you want to do? Or was the scene in the car the sum total of your fantasies?”
Oh, if he only knew the filthy images flipping through my mind like a retro ViewMaster.
Click . . . bent over the counter. Click . . . spread eagle on his bed like he described earlier. Click . . . slick and soapy against the shower wall. Click . . . face down on his desk with him licking me from behind.
“Bedroom. Now.” My voice is steady and certain, no doubt that I mean precisely what it sounds like.
Colton’s jaw clenches, and he takes me by the hand, leading me to a staircase and upstairs to a huge bedroom suite. The space is blanketed by rich navy walls, giving it a warm, masculine feel, and it’s easily bigger than my apartment.
His bed’s just as big as the rest of the bedroom, a fluffy white comforter roughly the size of a tennis court stretched out over the thick mattress. Well, maybe it’s not that big, but you could fit three or four people in there easily.
Maybe Colton has. I don’t know.
The errant thought gives me a moment’s pause, but no more. Especially when Colton steps in front of me, looking at my lips like he wants to consume me.
“I know I won, and the prize is for you to call the shots, but I’d like to offer a new dare if you’re game.”
My brow jumps, inviting him to tell me more. Anticipation, excitement, and restlessness begin their familiar buzz again.
“You tell me your boundaries, exactly how far you want to go tonight, and then let me get us there.”
I purse my lips, not surprised at all that he wants control back. “Are you a control freak, sir?” I use the endearment intentionally, wanting to gauge his response. If I agree to this, I want to be specific in my rules.
“I do prefer to be in charge, but I’m certainly fine if you’d prefer to call the shots.” He shrugs, and that answers enough.
“Okay,” I say, thinking carefully about tonight but also the future, about what my choices now are going to mean at the office tomorrow. “No sex.”
Colton flinches, disappointment shooting through his eyes, but he swallows thickly and nods. It’s a test and he passed.