Stefanie London - Dirty Devil / The Fling

His fingers brushed over my cheekbone, making me shiver, but I ignored the touch, refusing to let myself get derailed.

Turning my hand over, I stroked my knuckles down the length of his erection, feeling the heat of him through the fabric of his underwear. The muscles of his thighs tensed as I did so and my satisfaction deepened.

He might very well get hard for every woman, but right now that woman was me and, hell, I’d take it.

Dimly, the cool part of my brain tried to tell me that there had to be a better plan than kneeling in front of a complete stranger to give him a blow job just so I could steal a damn necklace.

But I didn’t listen. It wasn’t about the necklace any more. It wasn’t even about distracting him so I could get away.

It was about the unfamiliar pulsing ache between my thighs and the hunger for something I hadn’t even known I wanted.

Since Mr Chen had died six months earlier, I’d told myself I was fine with how isolating the business was. That I didn’t mind being alone. Yet right now, with Blackwood hot and hard beneath my hand, I knew that I did mind. And that I wanted more than the shadows I currently lived in. I wanted some time in the sun.

My breathing was getting faster, louder. He could probably hear it.

I leaned forward and this time I brushed my mouth over the black cotton, inhaling his musky, masculine scent and the heat of his body.

‘Jesus...’ His voice sounded rough, stripped of its charm. His fingers slid beneath my jaw, gripping me firmly, and I just knew he was going to pull me away.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

I lifted my hands and rested my palms on the steel of his thighs, nuzzling against him. His muscles went rigid and I heard his breath catch. So I did it again.

‘Holy shit,’ he said breathlessly. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My whole body felt as if it was going to freeze and shatter into pieces if I moved away. I needed this. I needed him.

So I leaned farther into his heat, lifting one hand and hooking my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging down the material.

Then it was my turn to catch my breath as I freed his cock.

Intellectually, I knew what a naked man looked like—I had a working Internet connection like most people—but looking something up online and seeing it in the flesh for the first time were two different things. And, as I was learning, that certainly applied to Damian Blackwood.

He was long, very thick and extremely hard.

He was also very pierced.

‘Oh, my God.’ I stared wide-eyed at the ring piercing the head of his cock. ‘Didn’t that hurt?’ Fascinated, I reached out, sliding a finger along his shaft to where the silver ring pierced him.

‘No.’ He sounded strangled, the muscles of his thighs like iron beneath my other hand.

‘But why?’ His skin was very hot and silky too. I touched him again, stroking him with my fingertips, and he made a rough, deep sound, his hand coming down to cover mine.

‘Because women like it. And so do I.’ He guided my fingers to the head of his cock. ‘It doesn’t hurt when you touch it either.’ The words were no longer smooth, but rough-edged.

He was liking what I was doing to him.

My mouth was dry and I swallowed, my own breathing coming faster as I stroked his velvety skin then cautiously touched the ring. Then, curious, I tugged gently on it.

He hissed, and I looked up sharply, worried for a second that I’d hurt him, despite what he’d told me.

Except it wasn’t pain that I saw as his gaze slammed into mine. Only a raw heat that stole the remaining breath from my body.

‘You want to suck me, then do it,’ he said roughly. ‘But you have to let me know now if you want the ring in or out.’

‘You can take it out?’

‘Yeah. If you want it in, don’t worry. I’ll be careful with your mouth. I know what I’m doing, okay?’

Of course. He’d probably done this a lot. But I didn’t need to think about what I wanted. I knew already.

I eased my fingers around his shaft, running my thumb up the underside of it, loving how he hissed again, muttering a curse under his breath. ‘Do you like it in?’ I asked. ‘Because I do.’

‘Then do it.’ His voice was harsh. ‘Suck me, Sugar.’

I didn’t need to be told. I wasn’t sure how to do this, but for the moment that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was hungry and I wanted to taste him. Wanted his heat inside me, chasing the shadows away.

So I tightened my grip and leaned in, touching my tongue to the head of his cock, licking him experimentally.

He made a deep sound of masculine approval, the tension in his body vibrating under my palms, so I did it again, tasting him. His flavour was rich and salty and suddenly I was starving for more.

I licked around the sensitive head, holding on tight, teasing the ring then playing a little with it, and he groaned.

It echoed through me, settling down between my thighs, making the hungry ache that pulsed there even worse. Because for once in my life I wasn’t hiding. I wasn’t passing by unnoticed.

I had his attention. I was right in the spotlight. And it made me feel brave.

So I lifted my gaze to his as I slid him deep into my mouth, sucking gently, wanting to see the expression on his face. It was tight, his features drawn in harsh lines, almost a snarl twisting his beautiful mouth. His gaze was electric and there was nothing of the charming storyteller I’d seen on the terrace in him at all now. This was nothing but raw, primal masculinity.

A shiver coursed through me, my sex throbbing.

If this was what a blow job was like every time, then I could get used it.

I held his gaze as I sucked him, watching pleasure blaze like a fire in his eyes, and he watched me in return, so intently it was as if he was trying to imprint me onto his memory.

A sliver of doubt crept under my skin, a bone-deep instinct murmuring that the way this man was looking at me could put my entire livelihood in danger.

But for once I couldn’t bring myself to care. I didn’t want to be like Mr Chen, dying alone, unnoticed and un-mourned by anyone except me. I wanted to have one person remember me, just one. To feel as though I’d been part of the world in some small way.

Blackwood lifted his hands. His long fingers were in my hair and I braced myself for him to hold on tight. But he didn’t. He simply pulled his fingers gently through my hair over and over, his hips beginning to move as I sucked.

‘Yes,’ he murmured, his voice hot, dark and rich, like melted chocolate. ‘Yes, Sugar. That’s so good.’

All thoughts of Mr Chen vanished. The note of heat in the words stroked down my spine like a touch, the ache between my legs intensifying. I gripped him tighter, sucking harder.

‘Fuck, yeah.’ He spread his fingers out, cradling my head, massaging my skull. ‘Love the way you’re doing that. Fucking unbelievable.’

Something shifted inside me at the praise, something vulnerable and needy. I sucked even harder, teasing the ring with my teeth, and he groaned, his hips moving faster, sliding his cock deeper.

His features were twisted in agonised pleasure and he still didn’t look away from me, his fingers firm on my scalp. He was looking at me as if he’d never seen anything like me before in his whole life. ‘You’re going to make me come, Sugar,’ he growled. ‘Is that what you want? Are you going to take everything I give you?’

I couldn’t do anything but nod, because I did. I wanted to make him come; I wanted the hot taste of him to scare away the dark.

And he was as good as his word; he was careful of me as he began to thrust harder, holding me steady. I gripped him tight with one hand, the other spread on his rock-hard thigh for balance, sucking hard as he gave one last deep thrust then came, a growling curse escaping him, his head going back, his hips shuddering.