COME WHEN CALLED (Billionaire & Biker Menage Romance) Page 6

  Stroking his erection, he stared at her, his eyes dark and fiery. “Now Evie,” he commanded. “Put my cock in your mouth.”

  The way he looked at that moment—so refined, yet so dirty—and with his silky voice commanding her to service him, it made her out of her head with hunger for him. Evie squeezed her legs together hard against the throbbing in her pussy and nearly came on the spot.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FORD HAD UNCOVERED a primal need she hadn’t realized she’d been missing—the need to be sexually dominated, to be someone’s plaything. And Ford seemed as thrilled as she was to find a partner with whom to explore his apparent complementary need to control. Their gazes still locked together, Evie whispered, “Yes, Mr. Hawthorne,” and saw a flicker of what looked close to joy pass over his features. The affection they’d shared for months seemed to solidify in that moment into something sturdy and believable, unlocked by their mutual kink.

  Evie felt his thighs go rigid under her fingers and his jaw flexed. He reached for her, his eyes glinting like a predator’s. “I can’t wait. I need to fuck your mouth now.” He wrapped his free hand around the back of her head and pulled her face toward his lap, using his other hand to tilt his cock to her lips. Although it seemed wrong to enjoy such treatment, the idea of what is right and proper made no difference to her swollen clit. She loved what he was doing to her. It felt deliciously wrong of him to push her head down to his erection, demanding she suck him.

  His normally refined speech became ragged. “I’m going to fuck your mouth. I’ve waited so long to do this, and you’re going to swallow my cum.” She moaned low in her throat as his crude words sent her further toward unfamiliar levels of arousal. Without thinking any more about possible consequences, she opened her mouth to swallow him like he insisted. He tangled his hands in her hair and pushed her mouth down onto his cock with a long, low groan.

  Tasting his tangy pre-cum, Evie swirled her tongue against the hot skin of his erection. His cock filled her mouth completely, connecting Ford and her in a way she’d only fantasized about until then. She wanted to reach up and caress his balls, feel the weight of them in her hand, but she kept her hands where they were—gripping his strong thighs. Ford was in control. That’s how they both wanted it, and so she pleasured him with her mouth and waited for him to tell her what he wanted from her.

  “Oh yes…god, like that.” His silky voice had turned rough and husky. She felt his leg muscles contract under her fingers. With his hands in her hair controlling her, she let him move her head up and down on his cock slowly, taking him in her mouth however he wanted it. Tilting her head back, she looked at him, drinking in his reactions. His eyes slid shut and he let his head drop back in ecstasy. “Your mouth feels amazing. Just like I knew it would.”

  She’d wanted for so long to devour him, and so she did. Even though Ford was the one receiving the pleasure, Evie greedily relished every detail of the act—the clean smell of his skin, the salty taste of his pre-cum, the stiff tension of the muscles in his thighs. She hadn’t been prepared for how hot it made her and she showed him—sucking and licking him as though his cum down her throat was the thing she wanted most in the world.

  He grew even harder in her mouth and stood up on shaky legs, pulling her up to kneeling and tightening his grip in her hair. “I’m going to fuck your mouth now.” His voice was tight with strained control, but his words were clear and brazen. He held her head still with both hands and slowly rocked his hips, pushing his thick shaft between her lips, in and out, fucking her mouth like he said he would, gently at first. She was easily able to accept his thrusts—he wasn’t aware of her unique talent.

  With practiced control, he pressed his sizable cock against the back of her mouth as he thrust, a little deeper each time. Evie knew he was working up to see what she could handle, and she was ready to show him just what she could do. Ford had everything he could want in the world, except maybe someone who could do what she could. And what she could do made her feel powerful—to have a man in awe of her abilities, make him putty in her hands. As Ford pulled back in preparation for another gentle thrust, she pulled her mouth off his cock and looked up at him, whispering simply, “More. All of it.”

  He looked down at her, hesitating, his eyes narrowing in consideration, and then a wicked smile teased the corners of his mouth. “Okay, prepare yourself.”

  She took a deep breath and dropped her eyes to the task at hand, concentrating on relaxing her throat. When she closed her lips around him again, he thrust forward with his hands still firmly in her hair, burying his entire hard length down her throat. She adjusted her position, swallowing against the urge to gag and flattening the back of her tongue until the discomfort passed.

  He pulled her head hard against his erection until he had no more length to force into her throat, and at that point his knees buckled. Releasing a hand from her hair, he grabbed at the Property Law bookshelf to steady himself as she pulled her mouth off his cock to gasp in a deep breath before swallowing him again, this time on her own. He groaned so deeply she thought he was going to come instantly, but he didn’t. Instead he found his balance again and made a low, animal sound as he began thrusting into her mouth in earnest, finally gasping “Oh god” like a liturgy every time he plunged his shaft to the hilt into her wet mouth. With each thrust that took him deep into her throat she could feel his hands tremble in her hair. It didn’t take long after that.

  He grunted as he pumped his hard cock in and out, and she worked her breathing around it and her tongue against it, keeping her lips wrapped tightly. He moaned loudly one last time, stilling completely for a moment, and then she felt his hot cum explode down her throat. She made an appreciative noise around his pulsing erection as she eagerly drank every drop of the liquid she’d spurred from him. He pressed her face against him with one hand to hold himself deep in her mouth as he came, keeping himself upright with his other hand on the bookshelf as he rode out every last wave of his orgasm in her mouth, whispering, “Goddamn, Evie. Goddamn.”

  Finally spent, he pulled out of her mouth, collapsing down onto the institutional upholstery of the dark wooden chair, the exact copy of several that populated the dim library. She worked to catch her breath as his legs shook under her hands. When he looked down at her, his face was dazed, causing a thrill of pride she felt to her toes.

  She had rocked Ford Hawthorne’s world.

  He probably hadn’t expected that. Still aroused for him, she slowly licked him clean as he grew soft under her tongue.

  She’d discovered her talent for deep-throating when an old boyfriend had challenged her to see how far she could take him into her mouth. Much to his surprise and delight, with a little practice she was able to take his considerable cock all the way down her throat. She apparently had an excellent and natural control over her gag reflex, or not much of a gag reflex at all. When she was done and he’d come so far down into her throat that she hadn’t even needed to swallow, he’d stared at her in disbelief. “What?” she’d asked. “Was that good?” Reading his continued shock, she’d realized what she’d done was special.

  After that, just like some men inspire a much-whispered-about reputation for having a particularly amazing technique in bed, Evie had her own secret weapon. And “unleashing” it for the benefit of her current lover always turned her on like nothing else.

  Ford had that same kind of look on his face as Evie’s old boyfriend when she’d performed that first deep-throat blowjob—half amazement, half elation. She was still kneeling between his legs, the soft hair on his thighs tickling her fingertips. He stared at her for a moment, then in a visible effort to collect himself, cleared his throat and straightened his posture. Wetting his lips, he blinked a few times.

  Evie pulled herself back up on her chair to give him room as he stood to re-dress. She’d thought she might feel awkward at that moment, when their heat had been sated and the ugly light of the library fluorescents put the work setting back into sharp foc
us, but there seemed to be no way to dampen her mood. Desire still drove a pounding and distracting pulse between her legs. She kept thinking about his cock, anxious for him to touch her again.

  When his clothes were tucked neatly back into place he pulled her onto his lap, his strong arms handling her as easily as if she were a child. Wrapping her up, he kissed her cheek. “Evie, love, that was… My god. That was everything I imagined it would be.” He paused, then, “No—it was so much better.” He didn’t have a definable accent that she could identify, but his confident voice was layered with such an educated and proper manner of speaking that it somehow sounded as if he did.

  He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply. “So smart, so professional. I never would have guessed you could suck me off like that,” he whispered against the nape of her neck, making her smile. Strange sometimes, the things that make you proud.

  The surrealism of it all kept twanging against her thoughts. A man who she was not dating—a client!—just complimented her on the way she’d “sucked him off”, and she was flattered. Grinning as if he’d given her the greatest praise she’d heard from a suitor. Yet she wasn’t frightened by the interaction, or disturbed by it. She was excited. She wanted more. This was different. Fun. Maybe a little wrong, and she was loving every minute of it.

  “You are a rare find, and I love to possess rare things.” His voice was silky, and he nuzzled his lips against the delicate skin under her ear, sending chills everywhere.

  She had only a moment to wonder what he’d meant about “possessing rare things” before he stood abruptly, setting her neatly onto her feet. His voice was formal again. “Thank you for a wonderful time.” He kissed her on the forehead, lingering, his lips soft. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the deal closing then,” he whispered. “It was a great pleasure doing business with you.”

  Smiling at her teasingly, his eyes sparkling anew with his usual playboy charm, he turned and strode out of the library before she could think to call him back. Or throw a book at him. Or tackle him and screw him on the floor. Instead she just stood, astonished, and watched his tight rear end, cupped beautifully in expensive trousers, disappear from view.

  She blew out a lungful of air indignantly. Their work wasn’t even complete, and she was still horny. Ready to go again, in fact—deal be damned. And he took her underwear!

  That jackass. How could he just leave her in this state?

  Collapsing into her chair, she dropped her head onto the table. She was still wound tight with lust. She picked her head up and tucked her hair behind her ear, sighing miserably. She was going to have to take care of her lingering excitement herself, alone as usual.

  This situation with John, the one that had caused her celibate state, had to stop. Maybe if she hadn’t been so deprived she’d have made a better choice in the library with Ford, a choice that wouldn’t have potentially put them both in danger. Only now she had another problem. One that only further complicated her already screwed-up life.

  She wanted more of whatever it was Ford had done to her.

  That dominion. That control. She needed it, and she only wanted it from him. Ford Hawthorne. The worst possible choice…for both of them.

  *****

  As Evie headed for her office, the ruined contracts in her hands, she didn’t notice the sleek camera mounted in the corner of the library, winking its tiny red light as if in warning.

  ~THE OFFER~

  CHAPTER SIX

  BACK IN HER office, the scorching encounter Evie and Ford had shared in the law firm library replayed in her head as she reprinted the ruined contract documents. She was still aroused, but energized. She’d needed that encounter—needed something to reinvigorate her nonexistent sex life—and her deal with Ford had been just the thing. His controlling behavior had awakened something animal and alive in her. She’d intended to rush directly home to her vibrator to relieve more of her sexual tension, but she made it only as far as her car.

  Ford’s hands on the back of her head, pushing her mouth further down onto his hard cock. Insistent. Almost as if he was making her do it.

  She couldn’t even wait for the drive home.

  Sitting behind the wheel of her car in the dark parking garage with her hand up her skirt, Evie rubbed her fingers desperately against her still-slick clit. She replayed it all—Ford’s cock filling her mouth as he grunted and pumped into her, telling her to make him come—and she easily orgasmed.

  Later at home she tossed and turned in bed, still frustrated. Using her vibrator, she called out Ford’s name as she came again, this time thrusting the toy in and out of her pussy at the point of release as she imagined him bending her over the library table and fucking her hard as he’d described in her ear. Three orgasms in one day. She couldn’t remember the last time that’d happened, if ever. And what both thrilled her and scared her was that she still wasn’t satisfied. She was hungry for more of Ford Hawthorne. But finally, exhausted, she was able to sleep.

  In the morning, she opened her lingerie drawer and rifled around in the back for the good stuff she hadn’t worn in some time. She settled on a sheer black bra with a black satin ribbon outlining the edges, a matching thong, and high, shiny black heels. It was a skimpy bra, just a slip of a thing, and she turned in front of the mirror inspecting her image.

  Though she seemed to always be struggling to lose some amount of weight, the target amount was currently a smaller number than it’d been in a while. She had a curvy figure, too thick to be seen in the pages of a fashion magazine—a little too much ass and a lot too much up top—but men like curves, even if fashion magazines don’t.

  As always, she reminded herself to concentrate on what she liked most about her body rather than what she didn’t. Her breasts were full, but still high enough that she could get away with going braless now and then, and her backside had a pleasantly rounded shape. Sexy, she determined.

  She’d almost forgotten how to feel sexy after John.

  The black mesh of the thong disappeared between the twin curves of her ass cheeks. She’d see Ford today at the deal closing. Maybe afterward he’d get up-close enough to find out where that fabric disappeared to… Her nipples came to hard points at the idea, and she considered using her vibrator again quickly before she finished dressing—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this sexually charged—but noting the time she sighed and slipped on her fitted, black dress.

  Stuffing some clean workout gear into her duffel bag, her hand brushed the suede carrying case of her throwing knives. Reassured they were safely tucked in her bag, she tossed her gym shoes on top and made her way out the door. The scary trouble she’d had with John had prompted her to take up some strange hobbies—first kung fu, then knife-throwing. The deadlier the hobby, the safer it made her feel. Clearly, knitting was out.

  She hummed as she left the house, wondering how she could find time alone with Ford to celebrate the deal closing. He owed her a thorough fucking—something about “until she screamed”?—and she intended to collect. It had been way too long since she’d had sex. She practically skipped into the office.

  But when the elevator doors opened into the lobby of the law firm, her bright day came to a gut-twisting halt with the suddenness of a needle raking across a happy record.

  Stepping out of the elevator, she was hit with the sensation everyone was staring at her. More than one woman whipped her head in Evie’s direction and then quickly looked away, as if hiding a smile. The men stared, and their stares seemed a little too much like leering. Something was up. Her heart began to pound.

  They know.

  She walked the excruciatingly long walkway to her office, her footfalls heavy on the institutional carpet, repeating a desperate mental mantra.

  You’re just being paranoid. You’re just being paranoid.

  She wasn’t. Mr. Northland called her into his office as soon as she reached her desk. It turns out law books are expensive and when some volumes had gone missing a f
ew years back, the firm had installed cameras to monitor after-hours activity in the library.

  Mr. Northland had a beautiful black and white, high-def video of Ford and Evie’s oral-sex-fest, and the clip he chose to play her was an animated little tidbit of Ford fucking her mouth, his chair pushed back against the books on Wills & Trusts, her heels splayed out behind her as she knelt in front of him.

  Son of a bitch.

  Mr. Northland showed her enough of the recording to ensure she wouldn’t put up a fight, then fired her. John was nowhere around. Probably sleeping his night off. But even John couldn’t save her job now. The violation she’d committed was a zero-tolerance one, and lawyers have a funny thing about rules.

  Lawyers also have a funny thing about gossip, and everyone at the firm knew the latest. When she left Mr. Northland’s office, their snickering pricked her like freezing rain on bare skin. She hurried to her own office before she made it worse for herself by throwing up on the hallway carpet. She had to get out of there. Emptying a file box onto the floor, she quickly filled it with her personal items, but her humiliation was complete when a paunchy man from security came in to confiscate her cell phone, which belonged to the firm, ensure she hadn’t taken any firm property or files and escort her out the door.

  Evie closed her eyes while the guard conducted his inspection of her packed box, trying to focus on her kung fu discipline and the empowerment it gave her. She was bigger than this single situation. Clinging to that thought, she centered herself and forced her head high. Hoisting the “Hey, look, I just got fired!” box, she pasted on what she hoped resembled a smile and allowed herself to be escorted out of the firm.

  It seemed everyone came out of their offices to watch her go, and through some trick of the universe, the walk from her desk to the front door had grown from ten yards to a hundred. But she made it, and she was deeply relieved when the elevator doors finally closed in front of her before she started crying.