High (12 page)

I spit on his bell end and he groans. “Shit, Blake.”

I wrap my lips around him and gently scrape my teeth over his length, making his entire body shudder. I’m high as fuck and making Rhett Torres squirm, I feel like fucking God.

The car stops moving, and then his hand is in my hair, the other tugging his boxers and jeans further down. He pushes lightly on the back of my head, and maybe I should be indignant about it but I’m not. I love that he knows what he wants, that he takes it without apology, without any of the niceties and bullshit. He hits the back of my throat and I swallow, trying not to gag. I bob up and back down, and this time, I do gag. He groans, rolling his hips up towards me.

“Choke on my dick, Duchess.” He groans. My pussy clenches at his words and I moan around his cock. His hips move in rhythm, meeting my mouth with every thrust until he’s fucking my face.

My nails dig into the tops of his thighs, and again I offer just a hint of teeth. He stiffens, calling me every filthy name under the sun as his salty come hits the back of my throat. I swallow everything he gives me and then lick him clean. 

When I sit up, his head is thrown back against the head rest. His broad chest rises and falls on heavy breaths. I watch as he swallows, his Adams apple bobbing up and down in a way that makes me want to drag my teeth over every inch of him. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to find just a little friction, and then decide it’s best not to look at him. His looks are not helping.

I hear him zip his fly, and then he’s pulling away from the side alley he parked in. Neither of us says anything until he stops outside the Carlton hotel.

“This isn’t my house.”

“Observant. You can stay with me.” He says. I don’t care right now, I just want a bed.

I shove the door open and the cold outside suddenly feels icy after the heat of the car. I shiver and prepare to make a run for it inside. He leans over my lap and yanks the door shut.

“Duchess, as much as you seem to like running around in your bra, it’s cold.” He shrugs out of his leather jacket and grabs my wrist, shoving it through the arm. I pull my other arm through the sleeve and smile, it’s warm and it smells of him, mixed with the scent of leather.

“Thanks.” Rhett Torres, the dangerous gentleman.

I wake up in the morning and get that instant feeling where I just know that someone is in the bed with me. I inwardly groan at myself and pull the duvet over my face. Why
do it, I hear you ask. Because it seems like a good idea at the time, until you realize that the guy is punching so hard, you probably should be charging for this shit. 

There’s a groan from the other side of the bed. “What time is it?”

I frown. “Rhett?”

I pull the duvet down and crack an eye open, I’m met with his golden irises. He raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing. I lean up on my elbows and blow a strand of hair out of my face.

“Uh…you were so great last night.” I plaster a smile on my face, even though my head feels like an angry gorilla just took up residence inside it.

“Really?” He asks sardonically.

I flop back on the bed. “Okay, I can’t remember.” I admit. “But I’m like ninety percent sure you rocked my world.”

“Wow, you really need to lay off the coke, Duchess.” His voice is raspy from sleep and it makes it sound even sexier than normal.

I swat at him. “I’m not a morning person.”

“And by that, you mean you have spontaneous amnesia?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s coming back to me.” I force my throbbing brain to remember something. “You picked me up…” Fuck, I can’t remember anything. Maybe I should start laying off the drugs. If I actually added up all my lost memories, I reckon I’m probably missing about six months of my life, but I bet they were fun.

He laughs. “And you fell asleep before I could even get you out of that lovely outfit.”

I glance down at my tiny beaded skirt, bra and oversized leather jacket that smells of him.

“Where’s my top?” I ask.

“You tell me. I found you like that.”

“Damn it, I like that top.”

He shoves the duvet off and sits on the edge of the bed. “So you said, several times. What you did not explain, however, is how your bra got broken.” There’s an edge to his voice, something I’ve never heard before, and it sends up warning flags. My mind blinks like a broken light, something furry, a guy…

“Uh, I don’t remember.”

His gaze lifts to mine and I almost want to flinch away from him, but instead I focus on a spot on the duvet. His weight dips the bed, and then his fingers are around my jaw, forcing me to look at him as he kneels over me.

“I know how it looks, and I’m telling you, if that’s the case, I will find out.” He says.

I swallow hard and want to make a smart remark, but my mouth has gone dry. The independent woman I know I should be is screaming at me to tell him to fuck off, but the less civilized, less rational side of my mind is ready to strip off and fuck him like a cheap hooker. Why is that alpha male shit so hot?

“Okay.” I whisper.

As he holds my gaze, that spark of possession in his eyes, my breath quickens along with my pulse. His expression gradually softens and he leans forward, dragging his lips over mine. His fingers dig into my jaw, demanding, controlling, as he tilts my head back and bites my bottom lip.

“We need to go. I have a meeting this morning.” He says against my lips, giving me one last kiss and releasing me. I feel drunk on him, my head spinning as I try to focus on anything that doesn’t involve him, his lips, or his dick.

He starts looking for his clothes, and my stomach sinks a bit. If my vagina could scowl it would right now.

Fuck him with his, ‘I’m so fucking goddamn sexy’ thing. I can do that…with about two hours preparation. Fuck knows what my face looks like right now. One can only hope the homeless crack whore look is his thing.

“Okay.” I get off the bed and shrug out of his leather jacket before reaching around and unzipping my skirt, allowing it to slip down my thighs. He pauses half way through pulling his shirt on, his gaze fixed on my body. I cock a brow and reach behind me again unfastening my bra. I pause for a second, and his eyes narrow. I slowly slide the straps down my arms, holding the bra out between my fingers and dropping it onto the floor.

“I need a shower first.” I flick my hair over my shoulder as I turn away from him, putting just a little pop into my hips as I walk to the ensuite. See, I can do his fucking…thing he does.

I leave the door open a crack as I turn the shower on. Please come in here. Okay, I’ll admit I’m that girl right now. But desperate times call for desperate measures and I desperately need his penis right now.

I slide my thumbs into the sides of my lace knickers and his hands slam over mine, stopping me from pushing them down my legs.

“You’re going to pay for that little show, Duchess.” He growls against my ear, pressing his massive erection into the crack of my arse. My whole body trembles with want. He bites down on my earlobe and rips the lace at my hips until the scrap of material falls to the floor.

“You keep ruining my underwear.”

“Good. Stop wearing it.” His breath stirs the hair on the back of my neck.

“That’s awfully slutty.” I breathe.

He cups me roughly, pressing one finger against my clit. I throw my hand out against the glass shower wall, bracing against his onslaught. “I like you slutty.” He hisses.

Oh god, I’m such a raging whore for him.

“Spread.” He growls, and I spread my legs willingly, my body bowing to his commands almost involuntarily.

He moves his finger over my clit, swiping across my entrance and dragging the moisture over me in a circular motion. His dick pushes against my arsehole, rubbing, pressing, threatening.

I gasp as his finger works over my clit, driving me insane. His teeth sink into my neck and I can feel myself on that blissful brink, ready to fall headfirst into whatever torturous pleasure Rhett is willing to give me, but then he stops, and I want to scream in frustration.

“Patience, Duchess.” He laughs.

Patience! He wants me to have fucking patience? Spinning me around, he pins me against the shower wall by my throat. It shouldn’t turn me on, but fuck it does. My eyes flutter closed.
I swallow hard as he brings his face close to mine and brushes his lips down my cheek before placing a kiss on the corner of my mouth. 

“Tell me, did you fuck anyone last night?” He asks. My eyes flash open and my body stiffens. “Ah, ah, ah.” He shakes his head. “It’s a simple question, Blake.” He shifts his hand from my throat until it’s buried in my hair, pulling my head back and forcing me to look up at his much taller frame. “I don’t do double dipping, Duchess, and I’m really not good at sharing my toys.”

“Good job, I’m not your fucking toy then.” I bite. When did this become a thing? I feel like I missed something.

He laughs. “So you don’t want me to play with you?” Damn him and his stupid fucking sex appeal, and damn my traitorous hormones for being so fucking into him. He brings his lips close to my ear. “Did. You. Fuck. Anyone?” The words are a guttural growl and I can feel myself getting wetter, seduced by that possession, the hint of jealousy in his voice.

My gaze fixes on him and the gold of his irises seem to swirl as though molten. Something in me bows under the weight of his stare, and the retort on the tip of my tongue dies away. “No.”

There’s a beat of silence and all I can hear is our intermingled breaths, the water falling from the shower and splashing against the tile floor.

“Good.” He whispers, and then his lips are on mine, his tongue thrusting inside my mouth in nothing short of an assault. He picks me up around my waist and I spread my legs, wrapping my thighs around his hips. He moves, stepping into the shower and slamming my back against the tile. My skin bursts into goose bumps as the cold tile touches my back and the hot water pummels my front. He grips my jaw, forcing me to tilt my head back, exposing my throat. His touch is forceful, demanding, and I love it.

His teeth skim down my throat and I moan, digging my nails into his shoulders as my back bows, my body straining to get closer to him. I feel his cock press against me, and then he’s sliding inside me, inch by inch. My mouth drops open on a silent scream as my pussy clenches around him, adjusting to the sudden yet welcome intrusion.

He groans, burying his face into my neck as he bites down on my shoulder. “Fuck, Duchess.”

He thrusts inside me as the water cascades between us, our bodies slapping together. I grab handfuls of his dark hair, which looks even sexier wet, and I pull him towards me. I kiss him, teasing his lips with my own. He fucks me until I feel like I can’t breathe—until the need to come is all I can think, all I can feel. His fingers dig into my hips harder, pinning me to the wall as he pulls out of me.

My feet have barely touched the ground before he drops to his knees in front of me, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder. He glances up at me, a sexy smile on his lips as his eyes lock with mine. There’s something incredibly hot about seeing Rhett on his knees, as though he’s worshiping me. I tilt my head to the side and flash him a smile of my own before I use my leg to yank him forward into my pussy. He throws a hand out against the tile to stop himself from literally face planting my pussy. He laughs as he swipes his tongue over my clit and, holy shit, his tongue is magic. My fingers grip his hair as my hips roll shamelessly, fucking his face. I watch him fuck me with his mouth, and the view alone has me hurtling full speed towards an orgasm.

“Oh, shit!” I moan as my body tightens and waves of pleasure ripple through my core. He stands up and he’s frantically stroking himself, fisting his cock hard enough that his forearm is roped in veins.

His abs tense and flex with each heavy breath, the muscles in his thighs tightening. He throws his free hand out, bracing it against the wall next to my head. I can feel his ragged breaths on my lips as he groans, his eyes slamming shut as the corded muscles of his neck pop out. He comes, and I feel it hit my stomach before it’s washed away.

He hangs his head, resting it on my shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. I brush the hair off his forehead, and he lifts his face, his golden gaze crashing into mine.

I don’t do this. Whatever this is, but he makes me want it.