Rough Sketch Page 4

  Until he stopped.

  "No." His gaze skated up my body as my breath came in ragged, heaving pants. "No. Not yet."

  I glared at him. "You are so fucking smug."

  He straightened, tucked a thumb in his pocket, brought his knee to the seat. "I love the way fucking sounds on your lips." He climbed inside the vehicle, slammed the door behind him. "Will you say it again? Will you say it while you're on my dick?"

  I reached for his belt buckle, careful to scrape my nails over the ridge of his erection in the process. He let out a howl. "Say please."

  "I will." He pushed his jeans down once the belt and button-fly were loose. No underwear for Mr. Guillmand. With his hard cock in hand, he stared down at me. "I'll say, 'Please, Neera, get on my dick and ride it like you own it.'" He stroked his hand down his length once, twice, and then settled in the center of the bench seat. He patted his thighs and beckoned to me. "Now, sparrow."

  I skimmed the ruined panties down my legs and crawled onto Gus's lap—as much as any full-figured adult woman could crawl in a back seat. I leaned against him, my back to his chest. His hands found my waist as I reached for his cock, dragged it through my slit. His answering growl was everything I needed to sink down onto him.

  "Jesus. Fuck. Neera. Fuck." His fingertips brushed the tender skin below my belly button, moving back and forth. "Fuck, Neera, this cunt is going to kill me."

  I found my balance by gripping the front seats but I couldn't find my breath. Not when I was full beyond belief. "Fine way to die," I managed.

  "The finest, Miz Malik." His hips shot up, spearing me hard. "Let me hear you say it, sparrow. Tell me how much you love riding this dick."

  Words were lost to me. They were gone, right along with my oxygen, my thoughts, my contempt for this endlessly arrogant man. All I could do was submit to the commands issued by his hold on my hips.

  "You'll say it. Before this night is over, you'll say it," he whispered.

  "Does your pride know no limit?"

  Using the front seats as leverage, I sank down, grinding against him. Taking him inside me this way brought stars to my eyes. It straddled the line between pleasure and pain, but the strangled cry he choked out was worth it.

  "I don't know," he replied. "Maybe you should spend the rest of the night searching for it."

  He shifted his hands, sliding one between my legs and cupping my breast with the other. His touch was unbelievable, each pass of his thumb over my nipple sending a current of electricity straight to my center. The sounds of slapping skin against the chorus of sighs and grunts and the fireball of energy gathered inside me made me desperate to find my release—and his.

  But I wasn't certain I could.

  My body was enthusiastic about this activity. I was as turned on as I'd ever been. Gus met all of my most important criteria. The boxes were checked and this was the sex of gilded legends but I wasn't convinced I'd cross the finish line. Not without some additional intervention.

  Huffing out a sigh, I said, "I'd prefer you spend the next five minutes using that ego of yours finding my orgasm."

  "Look up, sparrow." Gus dragged his hand up my neck, lifting my head from where it hung between my shoulders. "Let them see you."

  Two vehicles ahead, a man stood beside his car, his hand paused near the door handle.

  He was watching us. Having sex. He was watching us having sex.

  He was watching me.

  "That's it," Gus growled. "That's what you need. Take it."

  Everything inside me pulsed, a hard, heavy whomp that banished all doubt of getting mine. I was close—close enough to feel the first wisps of myself unraveling.

  "He's watching you get fucked, Neera, and you love it."

  I made eye contact with the man on the street. I didn't look away. "I—I—I don't know."

  "You love it," Gus repeated. "He's watching you ride my dick like you were born for it."

  "Like I own it."

  Gus hummed in agreement. "He's watching you. He knows what you're getting, sparrow. He doesn't have to see your tits or your pretty cunt to know. And he knows it's all mine."

  I was wet beyond belief. My inner thighs, Gus's hand, his cock—everything was soaked and slippery. His fingers tugged at the bar through my nipple, twisting it until I lost the ability to trace sensations back to specific portions of my body. Never in my life had I experienced arousal like this.

  "Do you think he's hard, sparrow? Do you think he'll get in his car, rip his trousers open, and jerk off with you on his mind? In his rearview?"

  I shuddered at his questions. I couldn't believe what he was asking me or what I was doing, but I nodded. "Yes."

  He dragged two fingers down my pussy, tracing his cock as it moved inside me. "Should we show him what you look like when you're coming?"

  I didn't have to think about that. "Yes."

  "Then ask for it."

  That quick, quiet command loosened something inside me and—and there it was, fraying like an overburdened rope until I was nothing more than a collection of fine, unbound threads. Like I was the sun and the stars and the moon, everything, all at once. My pulse pounded in my ears. I couldn't keep my eyes open. It felt like sunlight was streaming through my skin.

  I was barely able to speak when I whispered, "Fuck me, Gus."

  His answering growl was rough in the best ways. "I knew you'd say it."

  Chapter Six

  Gus

  Camaieu: a painting technique where the artist creates the work using a single color, typically employing tints or shades to achieve to this effect. In particular, the painting's subject matter is often rendered in an unnatural color or hue.

  It was about fucking time.

  I didn't say it, but god help me, I thought it as I wrapped my arm around Neera's waist and plowed into her. I'd waited. I'd waited for her to find her confidence and her rhythm, and I'd waited for her to beg.

  All of this waiting meant I was dangerously close to coming like a cannon shot before it was my turn. Traditional gentleman I was not, but I believed in ladies first. And this lady wasn't finished.

  "Look at him watching you." I tightened my grip on her neck. It wasn't enough to cut off her air but sent a clear message. Others can watch but I keep. "He can't decide if he should jerk his dick right there on the street. That's what you're doing to him, Neera."

  "What am I doing to you, Gus?"

  She rolled her hips over me, pausing each time I bottomed out inside her. She liked feeling me deep inside her and—as evidenced by my semi-violent growling—she liked killing me with her cunt. But this didn't end with her simply getting herself off on my dick. No, I wasn't having that. This woman—this pain in my fucking ass woman—deserved to be taken apart and put back together in all the wrong ways, and I was damn well going to be the one who did it for her.

  This was the one thing I wouldn't let her do for herself.

  I lashed my arms around her torso and thrust up into her as her walls clenched around me, forcing a gasp and tiny shriek from her. "You know. You've known along. Leading me on with that peach-sweet ass and your bossy mouth. You haven't played like you don't know what you're doing to that guy so don't pretend you don't know what you're doing to me, sparrow. Don't try it."

  "I make you want."

  "More than want," I answered. I held her close as I pounded into her, unconcerned with whether the Jeep rolled over from the force. "Need."

  "What do I make you need, Gus?"

  Not for the first time, I wished she'd turned around when she'd nestled herself in my lap, giving me her wide, expressive eyes. It would've saved me from agonizing over every shift of her shoulders and bob of her head, every ham-fisted attempt at interpreting her words while I fucked the power of speech out of her. She wouldn't have enjoyed the gaze of her onlooker that had turned her body into hot, purring lava but I still would've made it good for her.

  "You," I answered. "I need you, Neera." I'd tried to hold out. Fuck, I'd tried. But admitti
ng I needed her blew it all to hell. If I couldn't ignore that truth, neither could my dick. "Tell me you're there. I need you to get there."

  She didn't respond, not in words. She nodded, laced her fingers with mine, and turned her head enough for me to kiss her. There was a lot happening right now—I was coming like a fucking rocket, Neera was vibrating in my arms, some dude down the street was watching us, and my head was full of strange, clingy thoughts I'd never before entertained—and it seemed as though my body was caving in from the weight of it all. Just fucking imploding.

  Minutes passed before I could tear myself away from her lips and take stock of my condition. I was surprised to find none of my bones or my internal organs were splattered on the windows. Also surprising—Neera didn't climb out of my lap the second she caught her breath. Surprising but welcome.

  She traced the edge of my wrist cuff. "I'm afraid I'm unskilled in car sex etiquette. What is the appropriate next step?"

  Always so proper, my Miz Malik. "But you assume I am skilled in car sex etiquette?"

  I caught her side-eye glance and responded to it with a smirk.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, sighed. Then, "I'm asking you what happens next, Gus."

  That dollop of vulnerability from her was worth everything. Everything. "I have some ideas about that. I can't remember eating anything because I was too busy thinking about sucking on your neck. I bring this up because I know I'll require sustenance in order to survive the rest of the night with you. If I can interest you in a snack, I can promise I'll keep one hand in your panties while we eat."

  "You rendered my panties useless, Gus."

  "Mmm, yes. A fond memory." I reached for the shredded aubergine lace on the Jeep's floor and used them to mop up the wet we'd created between us. "Panties, no panties. You know what I'll do for you."

  She tipped her head toward the windshield, where our onlooker was long gone. "Was that…all right?"

  I shrugged. "If it's all right for you, it's all right for me."

  "I've never done—I've never done any of that before."

  "Doesn't make it any less all right, Neera." I kissed her cheek, her neck. "So, are you up for some food?"

  She nodded. "I'd like that."

  I gave her an exaggerated headshake. "I don't know what to do with you when you're being agreeable. Could you lapse into polite dictator mode for a second?"

  Neera cleared her throat, squared her shoulders. "Mr. Guillmand, I'll grant you a short break, but after that time I must insist you revisit the day's priorities."

  "Remind me what those priorities are, Miz Malik."

  "There are a number of issues requiring your attention but chief among them is seeing what we can get away with in the parking garage at my building. Perhaps the elevator as well."

  I responded with a solemn nod. "And remind me which floor you live on."

  The corners of her lips crept up into a tender smile. "The fourth, but it's often empty." She jerked a shoulder up. "Everyone takes the stairs. They're busy closing their activity rings for the day."

  "As am I." I lifted my hand to her cheek. Her skin was gloriously warm and soft like I'd never felt before. "I won't rest until I've handled those priorities, Miz Malik."

  Hours later, after refueling at a falafel truck, nearly dying when she sucked my dick in the parking garage but made me wait until fucking her in the elevator to get off, then repaying that favor by putting her Hitachi Wand to good, edge-tormenting use, and then fucking her against a city-view window, I propped myself up on an elbow and peered at her bedroom. "This isn't what I expected."

  With her hair tousled and her lips swollen, she glanced up at me. "What did you expect?"

  "Your shoes are persimmon, your lingerie is aubergine, there's a barbell through your nipple, and yet your walls are…white." I shook my head at the unadorned space she called home. "Tell me the truth. This is where you bring your slam pieces, isn't it?"

  "Slam pieces?" she repeated, laughing. "What are you asking me, Gus?"

  "A proper lady like yourself doesn't want random hookups at her house, so she keeps a place on the side." I shrugged as I ran my fingers over her belly, over her mound, between her legs. I cupped her there, my middle finger tapping her seam like it belonged to me. Not for the first time in the past ten hours, I considered the possibility it did. That I was tasked with keeping a part of her, if not the whole. "I'm asking whether this soulless box is your place on the side because I can't fathom you living here without wanting to throw a tomato at the wall for no reason other than needing to spruce up the joint. Not to mention, you're the boss of all the bosses and they pay you in gold bars. This isn't you, sparrow." I stared at her navel before continuing, "I'm also asking whether this was a one-night deal for you."

  Neera pressed her palm to the center of my chest and turned her attention toward the greige draperies bookending the wall of windows beside her bed. The reverent stroke of her hand over my heart, the heat of her body against mine, the shy way she hid from the prospect of giving herself over to me. This fucking woman. She was infuriating and exasperating and adorable in ways I struggled to accept.

  Most infuriating, exasperating, and unacceptable—she hadn't answered me. The woman rarely spoke without first curating her words, but even for Neera the length of this pause was remarkable.

  Something was wrong. A bug in the code, as the computer-y types were wont to say.

  Work wasn't the issue. My girl was brilliant. She was the boss. She knew how to compartmentalize.

  She wasn't the issue. Regardless of whether she was sorting through a newfound desire to get caught in the act, this woman was rock-solid. She was bright and hungry and devious, and I saw the pieces she'd kept close and quiet.

  Perhaps this was her crash pad and she did favor a one-and-done model. It was possible. Her nipple was pierced and she let me fuck her in broad daylight while a stranger watched. That she'd prefer casual sex wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

  It was possible but it didn't seem probable to me. Shoving a platinum rod through tender skin and early evening exhibitionism were serious business. They were commitments, and Neera managed her commitments with more righteous competency than I would've imagined possible.

  All that pent-up competence meant nothing escaped Neera's notice and she saw everything I'd kept close and quiet too. She dug them out, dusted them off, and forced me to take a long look at them. She slow-walked me to the reality that my life was rich and full, but also lonely. That sparring with a worthy opponent was divine foreplay. That I craved the pleasure of being handled by a queen who'd happily behead me.

  And she'd done it while being a contemptuous pain in my ass.

  It was aggravating—and deserving of admiration.

  I would've admired it until her legs were shaking and my name was the only word left in her vocabulary, but she was captivated by the curtains because she wasn't the issue and neither was work or exhibitionism or anything else on her side of the bed.

  That meant I was the issue.

  That had to be it and…the truth pinched a bit.

  "Your silence doesn't bode well for me." When she didn't respond immediately, I continued, "Yeah. Okay. Message received. I'll see myself to the door."

  I shifted away from her to fetch my jeans and get the fuck out, but she wrapped her hands around my bicep and tugged me back. I returned my hand to its home between her thighs.

  "This isn't my side place. I do live here, regardless of whether I could afford more. And I would like to keep you as my slam piece…or something less ridiculous."

  I stared down at her. I knew my expression was cooler than anything I felt for her but I was still chilled from opening my eyes to my emotions and waiting for them to be reciprocated. "Oh, would you? Is that how you want it, Miz Malik?"

  With a smile, she stroked the nape of my neck. Her touch was generous, affectionate. Heaven. I found myself smiling back in response.

  "That's how I want it," she answe
red. "But I have a question for you, Mr. Guillmand. Why all the birds?"

  I gazed at her for a lengthy moment as I shifted between annoyance—she still drove me crazy—and confusion—how did she not know?—and then deep-spiraled adoration—how could I do anything but worship her? "Because you soar, sparrow. Because you're magnificent and free, and I could grow old watching you." I leaned in, dropped a kiss on her lips. "I carved those birds because of you and I carved them for you."

  A blush colored her cheeks and she folded her lips together to harness a wild smile. Her restraint was beautiful, somehow bolder and warmer than the grin she attempted to hide.

  Then her eyes crinkled at the corners. She ran her teeth over her bottom lip. "Have you ever been to Maine?"

  "I haven't. That's—that's the East Coast, yes?"

  She bobbed her head once. "Northeast."

  "Ah." I sanded my knuckles over my stubbled chin. "Is that where you stable your slam pieces for safekeeping?"

  Without batting an eye, she asked, "And if it is?"

  "Then I'll pack my bags."

  Her brows arched up. "My boss lives in Maine. I fly out there once a month. I'm due to leave in the"—she glanced at the clock, huffed out a quick laugh—"in a few hours. Perhaps you'd like to join me. I imagine you'll enjoy the seaside village where Cole and his husband make their home. Lots of trees to climb."

  "You mock me and my process."

  "I believe you've mocked my—what did you call it?—polite dictator mode," she replied with a hearty dose of indignation. "But I'm not mocking you at all. I fully support your process, Mr. Guillmand."

  "You bust my balls, Miz Malik."

  She reached between us, past the erection throbbing on her hip, to roll my sac in her palm. "You love it."

  "In a bizarre and twisted way, I do." I didn't know what it was about this woman but—no, I knew exactly what it was. Neera was magic in the cloaks of an executive, an exhibitionist, an evenly matched sparring partner. "And you're taking me to Maine?"