His Terms

He gathered her dress and pulled it above her ass, shifted so he could push his pants down to his ankles and get his cock out, and then placed her flushed down on him again. Another sound left her when he grabbed her hips and pressed her down hard, making her feel his stiff cock against her slicked folds.

“You’re wet, I’m hard, and it would be so easy to fuck you right now.”

She nodded, and kissed him, ran her tongue on his lips, and loved that the sting of pain on her hips was because he couldn’t control his hold on her. He grabbed her bare ass, squeezed her flesh, and started rocking her back and forth on him. He ran his tongue now along her lips, and a little cry left her. Rian tasted so good, so addictive.

Her clit grew engorged with the need to come. Sorcha started rocking back and forth, faster and harder, and letting the pleasure fill her.

“That’s it, baby. Ride that sweet little cunt on me. Make yourself come. Use me.” His voice cracked at the end, and his erotic words had her gasping against his mouth. She moved even faster, trying to find that explosive pleasure by using him. But then he was using her, too, in this moment, and that was evident by the wetness that coated the tip of his dick.

He still had his hands on her ass, pulling her forward and pushing her back on his shaft, over and over again.

She opened her mouth on a gasp as a particularly intense contraction rippled through her body. It felt so good that the world around her dimmed in comparison.

He took that as an invitation and slid his tongue inside of her mouth, moving it against hers and mimicking what she desperately wanted him to be doing between her thighs right now. Sorcha didn’t care that there was a driver only separated from them by thin glass, and didn’t care that in probably moments they would be arriving at the party.

“I want you to come on me, Sorcha, all over me. I want to feel your body shake as you lose control.”

Oh. God. The breath left her at his words. He leaned in and resumed kissing her, slid his tongue along hers, and fucked her mouth. She felt one of his hands cup her breast through the dress. His groan of satisfaction had her pleasure heightening, and she moved back and forth with more vigor. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes. Her orgasm washed through her, exploded inside of her body, and took everything out of her.

They were dry humping, and yet she had gotten off, like she was a teenager in the back of her boyfriend’s car. She was aware of the sounds coming from her, high-pitched mewling noises that should have embarrassed her, but ones she was helpless to stop.

When the orgasm finally left her she sagged forward. Exhaustion suddenly slammed into her, and she breathed out hard and fast. God, who would have known having an orgasm like that without actually having sex could be so pleasurable?

She had touched herself, of course, but never had she come like she had being with Rian, and certainly not while just grinding herself on him.

The car suddenly slowed, and she got off of Rian, his chuckling filling her head. Sorcha adjusted her dress, and then glanced at Rian and watched as he put his still hard dick in his pants.

She was about to tell him that she could relieve him, because surely walking around with a stiffie and blue balls was uncomfortable, but before she could say anything the back door was opened and the driver stood there with his hand out for her to take.

23

“Miss Case, Mr. Hartford,” the driver said.

With one last glance at Rian, and a wink from him, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but got out of the car. She was wet between her thighs from her arousal, and hated the feeling of discomfort as she moved forward. Rian got out after her, adjusted his jacket and pants, and held out his arm for her.

She slipped hers into the crook of his and glanced at the house. Well, it was more than a house. It was a mansion really, and with the lights, fancy cars, and the elegantly dressed people going inside, she felt like royalty at that moment.

They went inside where they were surrounded by crystal chandeliers, a smoke-filled atmosphere smelling of sweetness, and of flowing champagne. Waiters dressed in black and white outfits handed them glasses filled with bubbly yellow liquid. Others walked by with silver trays filled with small, dainty looking hors d’oeuvres, the staff’s backs stiff, and their expressions blank.

For the next twenty minutes they mingled. A few men came up and started speaking with Rian, but they were using jargon she was unfamiliar with, and she felt like she was listening to another language. And then when Rian led them into this grand ballroom, the classical music started playing as if on cue.