“Ciara?” I reach down to help her off the floor. A moment later I feel her fingers tugging at my belt.
That’s what she was asking about earlier when she blushed and just now when she trailed off. She wanted to know about sex. I’m such a fucking idiot sometimes. I never said anything and now she thinks she has to do this.
I grasp her forearms and lean forward. “Ciara. It’s all right. You don’t need to do that.”
Her mouth is very close to mine and she licks her lips. In the soft lights of the car they look plump and deep pink and my gaze becomes locked on them.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
I’ve thought about touching her ever since she sent me those pictures. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head, in fact. But they were abstract thoughts about sex that were never going to come to fruition. That could never come to fruition, because I’m not who she thinks I am.
Now she’s offering to give me exactly what I want and my brain is presenting me with reason after reason why I should have sex with her. It’s what she expects. Sex is implicit in our arrangement. It’s what she thinks I’m paying her for. She might get suspicious of my motives if I don’t take her to bed.I really, really want to taste her.
“Would you like me to? Be honest,” she whispers.
My hesitation tells her all she needs to know. Her fingers continue unthreading my belt. It clinks softly and loosens and I feel myself grow hard in anticipation of her touch. My hands caress her shoulders and her blonde curls glide against my knuckles. So soft. I push my fingers into her hair, caressing the back of her head, and she feels like heaven.
Ciara’s hand rubs me over my trousers and even that gentle touch makes me groan. She outlines my length with her forefinger and then traces the swollen head of my cock. I watch her, my breathing shallow, as she undoes the button and then slowly eases the zipper down. Her hand dives inside my underwear and pulls my cock out, hot and swollen in her cool fingers. A conceited part of me can’t help but admire how thick and long I look in her hands.
She licks her lips and I instinctively grasp the nape of her neck. Yes. Suck me. My gaze is locked on her face as her pink tongue slides across the broad head of my cock. Her hand caresses my length and she licks me again, wetting me thoroughly before taking me into her mouth. I feel the drag of her lips and then the lave of her tongue, and I groan and lay back against the leather seat.
“Jezus Christus, how did you learn to do this?”
Ciara draws her tongue along my length with delicious slowness. “I’m a whore, remember?”
Anger rolls through me even as she slides me to the back of her throat. Has she been seeing other men? Aren’t I giving her enough money? She’s not a whore, not even when I’m paying her for this. I catch hold of her hair tightly and force her gaze up to mine. “Listen to me. You don’t see any other men but me.”
She nods quickly, her mouth still full of me.
“I’m your daddy. Are we clear?”
She nods again and I let her go, sinking back to enjoy what she’s doing. “Fucking good,” I growl, as she continues to work my cock. She’s heaven with that mouth. I look at the blush in her cheek, the way her lips slowly suck me, her eyes closed. From the way her tongue is caressing me I would almost think she was enjoying this.
Her hands slide up and over my belly and she makes a little noise in the back of her throat. Maybe she is. Maybe she likes blowing me.
I reach down between her legs and grasp her silken thigh. She catches my wrist and draws her mouth away from my cock. “Don’t,” she says in a broken whisper. As if she’s ashamed of something.
But I need to know. Suddenly it’s the most important thing about this. Not the money. Not my fucking brother. Not me pretending to be something I’m not. Her. She’s the most important thing. And I need to know if she’s wet.
“Baby. Let me feel.”