High-Heeler Wonder (Killer Style 1)

“Poor boy.” She stepped close enough for her aching breasts to brush against his chest. Just that touch was enough to send a wave of pleasure through her body that left her knees wobbly. But she needed more. She found the snap of his jeans. The pop of its release echoed in the night. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that sometimes being bad—”she grasped his zipper’s pull tab—“is very, very good?”

With deliberate care she lowered the zipper, watching the expressions fly across his face as duty and desire battled within him. Just as the zipper reached its farthest depth, he locked his gaze on her, and there was no doubting who had won the wa

r. She slipped her hand inside the opening of his boxers, wrapped her hand around his length and pulled him free. His cock lay heavy and firm in her hand.

“Sylvie,” he groaned up to the fast-darkening sky. His arms dropped from his chest and his fingers curled into fists that pressed against his thighs.

Maintaining an unhurried pace, she stroked her hand down to the base of his cock until his balls pressed against the back of her fingers, then reversed the motion. He felt like heated steel in her palm as she continued to rub up and down his thickening length. On her third leisurely trip, her fingers no longer met around his girth and pre-cum wet the wide tip. Too tempting to ignore.

The deck planks bit into her knees when she lowered herself, but the discomfort barely registered. Moving closer to his straining cock, she opened her mouth, hungry for the taste of him. She slid her tongue across his head, licking up the salty pre-cum and lavishing soft attention to his dick’s sensitive underside.

He hadn’t touched her, and yet her body was on fire with an overwhelming sexual need. Her nipples were iron pebbles, pressing against her too-tight lace bra, and the deep ache in her core intensified with each downward stroke on Tony’s cock.

“You’re killing me, woman.” His fingers laced through her hair and he pulled the strands taut, effectively holding her back from engulfing his length as she yearned to do.

“No, I’m enjoying you.” She tightened her grip on his cock and slid her tongue across her lips, leaving the faint taste of salt in its wake. “Are you going to let me get back to my fun?”

“It’s my turn.”

A wicked shiver shook her as she rose to her feet to meet his challenge. “All right. Show me what you’ve got.”

His lips found the hammering pulse point in her neck and he nipped at the spot before moving downward to the dip above her collarbone. Soft kisses in that sensitive spot were balanced out by his tight grip on her hips. Her skirt’s jersey knit material did nothing to mitigate the nuclear-level heat caused by his touch. Need whirled around inside her, blocking out everything except the touch of his fingers and lips.

Unable to be so close and not feel him, too, she grasped his face, his five o’clock shadow prickly against her palms, and pulled upward until his lips were level with hers. This was nothing like their first tentative kiss. They devoured each other, tongues dueling for supremacy.

He inched her skirt higher until the fall breeze scattering the leaves brushed against her bare behind. Her skin came alive with sensation under his touch and he slid a single finger across the cleft of her ass, wrapping it around the thin strap of lace threaded between her cheeks. Anticipation stopped her heart for a moment before he pulled the material tightly back, forcing the front of it to press against her sensitive clit.

Her pulse roared in her ears and she twisted her hips to increase the friction before falling against him. They stumbled. She landed on her back in the chaise lounge, her skirt up around her waist.

Tony dropped to his knees and bent forward, his face inches from the top of her exposed thighs, and his hard shaft temptingly close to her mouth. His fingers pushed her thong aside and plunged into the depths of her silky folds, curling to stroke the bundle of nerves hidden inside. The pleasure of it turned the world behind her eyelids black before it came back into focus in full Technicolor glory.

Bending over her, he lowered his face to her wet center, his tongue circling her clit in the same slow, deliberate pace she’d used on him earlier. The scratch of his five o’clock shadow heightened the tension growing in her belly.

The blissful torture made her want to cry out in joy…or desperation…she had no idea which. Needing to touch something—anything—she wrapped her hand around his hard length. He moaned against her sensitive flesh, causing tremors of pleasure to tighten the need building within her. Stroking his cock in time with the movements of his tongue, she didn’t even try to hold back her quiet gasps of desire. Faster and faster they moved in tandem, taking each other higher on crests of pleasure until they reached the zenith.

Her climax shot through her body, tightening every muscle and arching her upward. A moment later, wetness covered her fingers as Tony orgasmed in her hand.

Slowly, she returned to herself, and the stars overhead came back into focus. There wasn’t a single bone left in her body or thought in her brain. He’d made her come so hard she’d turned into a sex zombie.

His head rested against her inner thigh, his heavy breaths a soft caress against her still-swollen flesh. He kissed her leg with almost reverent care, and when his heavy-lidded gaze met hers something inside her tumbled to her toes and bounced back up to her chest.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry about that.” He nodded toward her sticky hand as he stood and zipped his jeans.

She shrugged. “Messy can be fun. Maybe next time—”

He whipped off his shirt and then clinically and efficiently cleaned off her hand, guilt replacing the postcoital softness in his gaze. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

What the fuck?

“You can have first dibs on the bathroom.” He backpeddled away from her. “I… I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, he disappeared into the house, leaving her alone on the deck, her skirt and mind askew.

Fuck. What happens now?

Chapter Eleven

“In difficult times, fashion is always outrageous.”