DrillingDownDeep (10 page)

He laughed. “You’re tight too, Vanny.” His fingers explored.
“Why is that? Not getting enough?”

“Just good genes, I guess,” she cracked.

“Well, let’s try to stretch you out a little, shall we?” And
with that he replaced his fingers with his cock and quickly shoved inside her,
pushing her forward with the movement so that the front of her legs bumped the
desk. She sucked in a breath, groping with her palms against the oak surface to
get her purchase. She had forgotten how big he was. He was stretching her all
right, his cock throbbing inside her, testing her inner walls, but it felt so
good, so right.

For a few seconds he stayed embedded in her, one hand
wandering up to the wings of her shoulder blades and then her neck, caressing.
She would have liked to think he was letting her get used to him, but he was
probably merely savoring the possession of it. He’d bought her. Just as he
could buy whatever he wanted.

That her skin tingled at his light touch, combined with the
hard, heavy feel of him inside her, was not her fault.

He put his big hand flat on her back, as if to hold her down
though she wasn’t going anywhere, and pulled his cock almost all the way out of
her and then shoved himself in again and started to move, rhythmically, quickly
and above all, forcefully. She could hear his harsh breathing behind her, feel
his convulsive grip on her hip, holding her still for his cock, and the
incredible sensation of him driving inside her as she got wetter and wetter.
For the first time in her life she felt
taken
.

Her breath hitched at one particularly exquisitely aimed
thrust and he paused. The hand on her back drifted up to the tangle of curls at
her neck, rubbing, massaging. “Too rough?”

She heard a taunt in his tone, but he
had
stopped. He
was quietly waiting, playing with her hair, caressing her neck. Even those
casual touches brought her some kind of hypnotic, intoxicating pleasure all out
of proportion with their innocent nature. Of course there was still the matter
of his hard cock motionless inside her. There was nothing innocent about that.

And it wasn’t too rough. The feel of him moving inside her,
that purposeful fucking, had been exquisite, whether she wanted to admit it or
not. And she certainly wanted it to keep going. But his question was there.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. His dark hair fell
forward as he dipped his head toward her, his eyes narrowed, waiting for her
response. He looked very young suddenly, unguarded. As turned-on as he
obviously was, as they both were, he was exercising restraint for once, holding
himself back while his cock pulsed inside her. Predictably, the idea of it made
her want to goad him on. She rotated her hips deliberately, causing a delicious
tingle in her depths and an answering, almost automatic flex of his hips. “What
do you think?” she whispered.

Eyes locked with hers, he put both hands solidly on her hips
and withdrew his cock slowly. Then he thrust all the way back into her as she
arched against him. “I think you can take it.”

He was so far up her that she groaned with it. Okay so maybe
that
was what they meant by a G-spot. Was it possible no man had even
been so deeply inside her before? She didn’t know. Looking into his eyes as he
moved against her, she felt at this very moment as if she’d never had another
man but Michael Reynolds.

He pulled his cock out again even as her inner muscles
hugged him tightly, silently begging for him to stay, or at the very least to
give her the relief she knew he could. The friction of it touched a thousand
pleasure points tucked up inside her as did the opposite friction of him
thrusting deep.

But she didn’t need him watching her, invading her very soul
with those dark-blue eyes, as he started up his hot, steady slam of pleasure.
So she dropped her head forward and closed her eyes. The oak underneath her
palms was damp now with her sweat and she slipped a little against the surface
as he worked her.

“I think you can take it,” he repeated in a low voice, the
rhythm of his thrusts hard and rapid. “And I think you like it.”

She certainly couldn’t deny that.

“What about you, Michael? Do you like it?” Her voice sounded
breathy and plaintive to her own ears and he didn’t bother to answer, instead
moving more precisely, as if he knew just where to thrust and just how to swirl
his cock in deep as he did.

She came with a soft moan, not trying to hide her orgasm, shuddering
back against him, expecting him to let go and join her. But though he paused,
tugging her even closer as the spasms overtook her, their bodies hot with the
vigor of their sex, he did not. When she came back to herself she realized he
was still rock-hard deep within her.

He leaned over her, closer, kissing her damp curls, his
chest to her back, feverish skin to feverish skin. They fit so well together
this way, almost spooning, that, ignoring the awkward circumstances, she
welcomed his embrace. His mouth came to her ear, kissing and nipping, and his
fingers found her sensitized nipples, playing with them while his cock started
to move again below. “Your tits are so sweet,” he whispered.

For all her swearing, she’d never been one to use much
language in bed with a man. Maybe because it was too much a part of her
ordinary life. She didn’t eroticize it. Despite his vulgarity, or because of
it, she felt on the verge of coming again and strained against him, reaching
her arms back to ruffle her fingers through his hair. But he pulled out of her
abruptly and stepped away.

She couldn’t stifle her moan of disappointment and he
laughed. “Such a hot little thing. Just as I remembered.”

His voice sounded so calm and level again that when she
straightened and turned around, she was almost surprised to see his incredible
cock still sticking straight out, hard and angry, and wet with her juices. But
of course it was. He hadn’t come yet. If he seemed embarrassed by his erection
when she’d caught him with one in the cabin on the rig, he certainly wasn’t
bothered by it now. Different time, different place, she guessed.

He leaned back casually against the windowsill and she took
a deep breath to calm herself. Other than that enormous exposed erection and
the sweat glistening on his chest and brow, he could have been standing in line
to order mocha he looked so collected and unruffled. One glance at the mirror
on the wall across from them, though, told her she looked anything but. Her
hair was a wild mess of curls, her topless breasts heaving, with their nipples
rosy from his fondling. She had barely recovered from her first orgasm when he
had teased her into expecting a second and then rudely deprived her of it just
so he could stand so calmly before her. As if she’d been the only one having
wild sex here.

He folded his arms across his chest, considering her.

She glanced at the wide-open view behind him, skyscrapers in
the distance almost, but not quite as tall as the Transcoastal headquarters
itself. “You better watch out, Reynolds. Being bare assed against a window is
inviting trouble, no matter how high up. They have news helicopters in Texas
too, you know.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” He pulled the back of his pants
up, not exactly what she had been aiming for, though his cock still stuck
straight out from his un-zippered lap.

It should have looked comical. But it sure as fuck did not.

She headed for him again, intending to climb right on top of
his lap, regardless of why he’d called a sudden halt, or for that matter any
traffic helicopters that might be in range, and he tutted, the sound stopping
her. “No, no, no, Miss Donald. No second orgasm for you just yet.”

“What about a first one for you?”

“All in good time.”

His calm voice and considering stare were annoying her, big
time.

“Let’s play a little game, Vanny.”

“Okay with me. ’Cause I sure as hell wouldn’t mind whipping
your ass right now. Where’s the crop or whatever it’s called?”

“I’m afraid I was serious when I said that particular fetish
doesn’t appeal to me, but I do appreciate you thinking outside the box. Feel
free to keep that up.”

“And what about that?” She nodded at his cock. “You proving
you can
keep it up
without fucking or something?”

“Keeping it up isn’t really a problem with you in the room,
especially topless as you are and with your pants pulled down.”

“Thank
you
for
that
reminder because I’m about
to get dressed again if you don’t do something with that cock of yours.”

“Sit down.” He indicated the straight-back desk chair.

“Fine.” She pulled her jeans up again and flounced over to
it, turning it toward him and sitting down. “Now what?”

“Bare-assed, as you so delightfully put it, if you don’t
mind.”

“Is the object of this game to order me around?”

“The object of this game is to remind you who’s the boss.”

She stood up again and took her jeans off and then sat
spread-eagle on the chair. He watched her. Maybe she had another game in mind.

It was one she’d played that night at the Four Seasons.
Making Michael Reynolds lose control.

“Nice. Very nice, Vanny.” He stroked his cock casually.
“Let’s slow things down a little. Show me how you play with yourself. I want to
see it.”

The corner of her mouth went up. Now that was a request she
could get into.

She reached a hand down to her pussy, so wet from his
attentions that she had to wipe her fingers dry on her skin first to get some
bearings. Then she put her middle finger to her clit and pressed in a small
circle lightly. “How’s this?”

And actually, it felt darn good to her. She was very close
given how far he’d brought her. Her eyes narrowed. At least she’d be able to
give herself some relief.

“Don’t come.”

She paused.

“Sexual tension can be even more pleasurable if it’s drawn
out. I think you need to learn some control, Vanny.”

“Oh yeah?” Deliberately, she inserted two fingers inside her
warm, wet pussy, watching his reflexive grip on his cock tighten at the sight.
“Well, I think you need to learn how to
lose
some control.”

Fingers moving inside her, she flicked her thumb against her
clit but didn’t close her eyes this time. She watched him. “This feels so good.
I’m imagining it’s your cock and you’re fucking me again.” Low and breathy, she
knew her voice sounded anything but calm. And she didn’t care. “God, when I
came and tightened my pussy around your cock…wow.”

She moved her hips slightly as she talked, feeling his
intense blue eyes on her. His cock was in his own hand, jerking the length of
it now. It was all so hot that even though she’d just been teasing him, she
thought she would come any second. Her eyelids drifted shut and in a split
second he had yanked her off the chair and bent her over it, kicking her legs
open.

“I said don’t come,” he barked, no longer in possession of
that annoyingly calm voice. He rammed his cock inside her and she took him,
greedily, pushing her ass out toward him as she gripped the rungs of the chair.

“You’ll come,” he flexed against her in time to his words,
each thrust slick and hard and welcome to a body that had already begun to
crave his touch, “when I say you’ll come.”

She laughed—satisfied at both unsettling him and getting him
back inside her again.

With one hand he grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked
her head back to demand a kiss, which she gave eagerly, their tongues tangling
as their bodies coupled. With his other hand, he reached in front of her,
feeling unerringly for her clit, puffy and moist and on a hair-trigger now.
Funny how it felt so much better when he did it. He fondled her as he fucked
her, as he kissed her, and she shuddered with the pleasure.

She got her orgasm with that, his fingers rubbing her clit,
his cock pounding up deep inside her and his mouth taking hers. With such a
triumvirate of sensation, how could she not? And this time, he came with her,
silently, shuddering as well. Her head fell forward, curls obscuring her
vision, and as she drifted down from the sexual high, he kissed the nape of her
neck. Softly.

But he rested against her only for a moment before his hands
fell away and he pulled out.

Breathing heavily, she stood straight again, slowly, as he
took off the condom and threw it in a wastebin and then fastened his trousers.
The room suddenly seemed inordinately quiet and for some ridiculous reason she
felt shy. The smile she was wearing dimmed in view of the enigmatic expression
on his face and the fact he wasn’t looking at her. In fact, he was sort of
acting as if she wasn’t in the room anymore.

Without even searching for a tissue to wipe between her legs
or anything, she followed suit, picking up her jeans and searching for her bra
and the white shirt, leaving the ripped tank top as ruined.

Neither of them said anything at first.

As pleasurable as her orgasms were, this was not at all what
she had expected. He finally lost control at the end of it, true, but her
triumph was short-lived with this wordless no-nonsense wrapping up. It felt so
sterile compared to her other times with him. Of course he didn’t realize it
was her during that first one. Maybe this was how he treated all his
mistresses. Maybe it was even more of a business arrangement than she had ever
imagined.

As if confirming that, he said, “I don’t like to wear a
condom. I do it only when I’m not sure of my partner’s, ah,
health
.”

“Or don’t,” she said in an obvious reference to his failure
to do so the last time on the rig.

“I’m afraid you made me forget myself that time. You seem to
be into making me lose control.”

“I think you’re into it too,” she observed, though he
ignored it.