Lead Me On Page 11

  He moved his greedy mouth to her left nipple, drawing on its peak until she cried out.

  “God, that feels so good.”

  Ripe pleasure and desperate need laced the hoarse exclamation. He sucked harder, kneading her breasts as he did so. She raked her nails over his shoulders and, impatient for more of her flesh, he tore off his vest and threw it aside, never releasing her nipple from his mouth.

  “Oh, Sam…” she moaned. “I need…you…inside…”

  He silenced her plea with a savage kiss. His cock ached and throbbed in his pants. His head swum. But there was no way he was done with giving her pleasure yet. And taking it from her.

  He would never be done with that.

  He dragged his mouth over her throat, her shoulders. He sucked at the sensitive flesh beneath her ear and kissed the wet mark better. He threaded his fingers with hers and raised her arms above her head, holding them there as he covered her uplifted breasts with hungry, nibbling kisses.

  “God.” She writhed on the marble table, her legs pulling his groin harder to her pussy. “If you don’t fuck me now…”

  Once again, he captured her begging with his mouth, feasting on her frustrated protests. His whole body throbbed now, not just his dick. It wouldn’t take much for him to go off. One touch of Lily’s flesh on his cock and his seed would spurt from him. He didn’t doubt that. He needed to make her come again. He needed to make her drown in her pleasure.

  Smoothing his hands down her arms, he worshiped her breasts again, lashing his tongue over one nipple and pinching the other with his fingers until she thrashed on the table. Then he did the same in reverse.

  She drove her heels into the backs of his thighs. Trembles rocked her body. He felt them vibrate through her.

  Close. She was close.

  He moved, yanking her hips forward, perching her on the edge of the marble as he tugged her underpants free of her hips, her legs. “Hold on, babe,” he ordered before dropping to his knees.

  “What—”

  Her choked question faltered as he flattened his palms high on the inside of her thighs, shoved her legs wider and thrust his tongue into her sodden folds.

  “Oh God, yes!”

  She bucked, shoved her spread pussy to his face. He laved her sex with greedy haste, flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue over and over. She planted the soles of her feet on his shoulders, her cries growing louder, wilder.

  He loved it. Loved the honest desire, passion and uninhibited pleasure in her sounds. Music beyond the exquisite.

  “Sam,” she panted, “oh please, Sam, I’m going…I’m going to…”

  A shudder wracked her body. She bucked forward, her cries turning to a moaning scream. Warm cream flowed over his tongue, wet his lips and chin.

  He devoured her, sucking at her release, her folds, her clit.

  When she begged him to stop, when she cried she couldn’t take any more, that it was too good, too much, he abated. A little. Enough to clean her climax from her labia with gentle laps of his tongue.

  Enough to let her catch her breath.

  “God,” she moaned, slumping back against the wall. “What have you done to me?”

  Moving his hands to his belt buckle, he slowly rose to his feet and, undoing his belt, smiled down into her half-shuttered, pleasure-fogged eyes. “Made you ready.”

  She gazed up at him, her breasts heaving. “For what?”

  He lowered his fly.

  Her stare slid to his groin, just as his cock—engorged beyond erect—jutted free of his leather trousers.

  “Oh…” The single word fell from her on a sigh. Her teeth caught her bottom lip. She studied his arousal, unmoving on the edge of the marble table.

  Samuel stood just as motionless, letting her digest what she saw.

  He was big. Bigger than average. And he wanted her so much. So fucking much he swore his cock was bigger than it had ever been. Which made the tattoo inked into his taut flesh from just under the distended rim of his cock head to the root of his erection all the more obvious—a burnished-gold and black Gibson 175 electric guitar.

  In a rebellious teenage moment, he’d forged a permission letter from his parents and gotten the tat at sixteen, after they’d refused to entertain the notion their prodigal son—who’d scored straight As on every school exam since he was six years old in year one—wanted to be a professional rock musician.

  Getting his cock inked was a stupid move, of course. It wasn’t as if he’d showed his mum and dad his dick. But then a girlfriend had told her friend, who told her friend, whose father was a surgeon at the same hospital as Samuel’s father, and before Samuel knew it, he was standing in his bedroom with his mother demanding he take his jeans off.

  He hadn’t. Instead, he’d left. And hadn’t returned home for a week. That had been the beginning of the long, wretched disintegration of his relationship with his parents that had never been mended.

  Whenever groupies saw the guitar stretched the length of his erection, they cooed and squeed over it, making ridiculous jokes about playing it for him. He’d displayed the tat like a costume for decades, hating it even as he pretended to revel in its ostentatious existence. Now, standing in front of Lily, the one woman he truly cared for, he didn’t know what to say.

  Would she find it repulsive?

  Ridiculous?

  She turned her green stare to his face and he swallowed, waiting.

  “Well,” she said, sliding from the edge of the table, “that’s original.”

  He laughed and then hissed in a sharp breath as she slowly closed the distance between them and circled his girth with steady, firm fingers.

  “And—” she tightened her grip, her lips twitching, “—very artfully done. Think I need a closer look.”

  She lowered to her knees and slid her lips over his cock’s crown.

  “Fuck, Lily!” Samuel ground out, the wet seal of her mouth on his erection sending white-hot pleasure straight into his soul.

  She took him deeper into her mouth, sliding her tongue over his length, moving her hands to the swollen globes of his sac. When she tugged on their heavy weight, he bucked, squeezing his eyes shut, curling his toes in his boots.

  “Lily,” he gasped, snagging a fistful of her hair. “Babe, no…I will…want to…”

  She sucked up to the rim of his cock and plunged down again.

  He bowed into a rigid arc, concentrated pleasure searing through him. Fuck, he was going to come. In her mouth. He didn’t want to come in her mouth. Not the first time. The first time with her had to be beautiful and tender and sweet and…

  “Ahh, fuck, babe,” he moaned, unable to prevent his hips driving his cock harder into her amazing mouth no matter how much he tried. “I’m going to explode in your mouth if you…”

  She slid up his length, her lips tight around his girth and released him with a pop. “Is there somewhere else you want to—”

  He didn’t let her finish.

  With a growl, he hauled her off the floor, scooped her up against his chest and carried her across the suite.

  To the bedroom.

  He slammed her onto the bed. There was nothing gentle about his actions. With Lily, gentle and tender had passed an eon ago. His ache for her, his craving need to fuck her had reduced him to a creature of base actions. Now he wanted to make her scream with raw pleasure as he feasted on her body.

  He pinned her to the soft mattress with his hips, assaulting her mouth with his as he ground his released cock to the junction of her thighs. The material of her skirt denied him the contact of her damp flesh and, with a growl, he reared back, flipped her onto her stomach and yanked open the skirt’s zipper.

  The glorious curves of Lily’s backside peeked at him from the parted fabric. The sight drove him wild. Pressing his face to her newly revealed flesh, he swiped his tongue between the crevice of her cheeks.

  “Sam,” Lily moaned, writhing beneath him.

  With a growl, he straightened from the b
ed, snared two handfuls of her skirt and tore the garment from her body.

  “Fuck, your arse is perfect.” The statement left him on a raspy breath. He stared at her butt and then groaned and shook his head when she repositioned herself onto all fours, presenting him with an even more intimate view of that perfection.

  Scalding blood surged into his engorged cock. He stared at her pussy, glistening with moisture, the pinkness of her folds beckoning him. He flicked a glance at the puckered hole of her anus, teasing him from between the toned muscles of her arse cheeks.

  He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to hold back. For a second, just a heartbeat or two. If he didn’t he would—

  Lily twisted on all fours, studying him over her shoulder. “Fuck me, Sam. I can’t wait any—”

  He grabbed her hips with his hands and buried his tongue in her pussy.

  “Oh that’s…”

  He lapped at her sex, ravishing her tender flesh until she begged him to stop. He did, but only to remove his boots and strip his trousers from his body.

  Lily watched him over her shoulder, her eyes hazy with lust. There was no other word for it. She lusted for him on a carnal level Samuel understood completely. He felt the same for her.

  Holding her molten stare, he smoothed his hand over his scrotum and gave the heavy globes a tug.

  Lily drew in a hitching breath and flicked her tongue across her bottom lip.

  He slid his fingers up his length, wrapping it in his own flesh for a moment.

  Lily’s nostrils flared. “Yes.”

  He pumped his cock. Once. Twice.

  Ribbons of dark, intense pleasure unfurled through Samuel’s lower body. He pumped his cock again, the raw need in Lily’s eyes pushing him to a level of pleasured denial he’d never been before. It was sublime.

  “Again.”

  Lily’s husky command seared his senses.

  He fucked his hand, four hard, fast, brutal pumps, each one colliding with his balls on the downward stroke.

  Christ, he was balancing on the edge of insanity here.

  Without a word—there were no words, none that could adequately convey the sensations consuming him—he strode from the bedroom.

  Yanking open the suite’s fully stocked bar fridge, he grabbed what he sought. A bottle of Moët chilled to perfection.

  He crossed back to the bedroom, unable to suppress his groan of appreciation at the sight awaiting him.

  Lily lay on her back, her legs splayed, kneading her breast with her right hand as she played with her clit with her left.

  Tight lust knotted around Samuel’s hot desire.

  He sucked in a slow breath, the perfume of Lily’s pleasure propelling him closer to the edge.

  Samuel closed his eyes and pulled another breath, slower, deeper. Christ, it was exquisite. He never wanted a day to pass without taking the scent of Lily’s pleasure into his body.

  Opening his eyes, he crossed to the bed and stood at its foot, watching Lily’s hands as they worked her breast and clit.

  “Fuck me, babe,” he groaned. “Watching you touch yourself…” He groaned. Swallowed.

  Lily smiled at him, the heady desire in her eyes sending fresh lust through Samuel. “What are you planning to do with the champagne, Sam?”

  For an answer, he tore open the foil covering the cork and popped the bottle open. “This,” he murmured, a second before taking a large mouthful of the chilled, bubbling Moët and kneeling between her thighs.

  He lowered his face to her sex and captured her folds with his mouth, icy-cold champagne dribbling past his lips as he did so.

  “Oh God,” Lily gasped, bucking her hips upwards. “Holy fuck, that feels…”

  Samuel lashed at her clit with his tongue, the cold champagne fizzing over his taste buds, swishing over her flushed flesh as he did so.

  “Oh God, Sam,” she moaned, driving her hips higher to his mouth. “So…that…oh yeah…”

  He sucked at her flesh, licking it clean of the expensive alcohol, paying thorough attention to the swollen button of her clit.

  “Oh lordy, Sam.” Lily arched beneath him, pressing her heel to his shoulder.

  He lifted his head, needing to see the pleasure he gave her on her face.

  Her lips were parted, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed.

  His cock throbbed at the wholly pleasing sight.

  After shifting between her thighs, he rose up onto his knees, trickled a stream of Moët over her right nipple and sucked it off.

  Lily whimpered, scraping her nails at his shoulders.

  He straightened again, wetting her other nipple with the expensive champagne and then drinking the fizzy bubbles from her taut flesh with ravenous thirst.

  Over and over again, first one nipple, then the other, then her sex, back to her breasts again.

  And with every decadent sip of Moët, his cock throbbed with increasing urgency. Aching, straining for eruption until Samuel could barely think.

  Barely breathe.

  Christ, he couldn’t wait any longer.

  After taking one last mouthful of champagne, he hovered over Lily’s body and captured her lips with his. Cool liquid flowed from his mouth to hers, over her chin, along her jaw. He ravished her mouth and then licked her clean, driving his cock against her sodden pussy as he did so.

  It wasn’t until she raked her fingers down his back to his arse and thrust her hips upwards, her folds parting to the head of his erection, that he realized he was on the verge of penetrating her without protection.

  He staggered backward, rational thought scratching at the consuming urgency to possess Lily, to bury himself in her heat and own her, take her. Forever make her his.

  “Sam, please…”

  Lily’s groan lashed at his control.

  He ran a hand through his hair, heart hammering with agonizing force in his chest, his throat, his ears.

  “Condom,” he ground out. “Condom.”

  He spun on his heel, seeking his discarded trousers. Did he have a rubber in his wallet? Fuck, did he even have his wallet? Being a rock star meant he rarely carried it. Did Brutal have it?

  Placing the bottle on the floor, he snatched up his trousers, Lily’s low, throaty chuckles flaying his sanity. Samuel shoved his hand into the slim back pocket of his leather pants and, with a hissed yes, yanked out his wallet.

  Flipping it open, he dug his fingers into one of the inside compartments and…

  “Yes!” With a triumphant cry, Samuel pulled out the square foil packet, tossed his trousers aside and then spun back to the bed.

  “We have condom,” he shouted, wriggling his arse in victory.

  Lily’s laughter rose from the bed. “Then hurry the hell up and get back here to m—”

  He launched himself at the bed and Lily before she could finish the request.

  “I don’t know how long I’m going to last, babe,” he apologized around the corner of the condom packet, kneeling between her thighs as he tore the packet open with his teeth. “You’ve got me so—”

  Lily sat up, plucked the packet from his fingers and smirked. “Sam, I love hearing you talk to me with that sexy Australian accent of yours, but if you don’t shut up and make love to me this second, I will have to hurt you. Understand?”

  A thick spasm claimed Samuel’s cock at her words. And then again when she took his engorged length in her grip and covered it with the silicon sheath.

  “Oh, babe,” he moaned, closing his eyes as the sheer overwhelming pleasure of her hands on his flesh swept through him.

  For a still moment, silence stretched between them. Samuel opened his eyes and gazed down at her, his pulse thumping. Christ, it was about to happen. Could he even hope to survive?

  “Sam?” The question, the fear, the hope, whispered through Lily’s voice.

  He swallowed, pressed her to the mattress and nestled his groin to her sex, barely able to hold on a second longer. “I…” He caught the words of love before they could fall from h
is lips. He ached to say them. He really did, but couldn’t. Not yet, not until—

  “Now, Sam.” Lily pushed her hips upwards.

  Samuel’s heart slammed faster into his throat. Hope tore through him.

  “I need you inside me,” she panted, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Now.”

  “Now,” he echoed on a growl and, gazing into her eyes, rolled his hips.

  The bulbous head of his cock parted her folds and, unable to contain his groan, he drove deep and buried himself to the hilt inside her.

  “Yes!” Lily cried out, arching beneath him.

  “Fuck,” he rasped, undone by her tight, wet heat sucking at his length. It was perfect. It was beyond perfect. It was right.

  He withdrew enough to feel her pussy lips stretch around the rim of his cock head, enough to hook his arm under her thigh and extend her leg up his chest and over his shoulder, and then he thrust back into her sex. Deeper than before.

  She cried out again, the sound raw and unrestrained.

  Passionate.

  She moved with him, her rhythm matching his, a harmony of sublime synchronicity. He filled her, over and over again, at times feasting on her lips as he did so, other times marking the flesh of her shoulders and throat with his teeth and mouth. She fisted the duvet and cried out her pleasure, begged for more, commanded he take her harder, harder.

  Harder.

  He did, an inferno of need and desire and rapture shattering any vestiges of control he clung to.

  The detonation began in his soul, a blistering release. And just when he clawed at her breast and her hip with frenzied fingers, just when his orgasm speared into his groin, Lily slammed her hips upwards and screamed his name.

  “Sam! I’m—”

  Her sex contracted around his shaft, gripped him, squeezed him, milked him, and Samuel lost himself to the power of her climax.

  And his own.

  Chapter Nine

  Lily had never tasted strawberries like the ones that came with lunch. She closed her eyes and savored every bite, letting the juice trickle over her tongue for a moment before chewing and swallowing.

  Oh God, if strawberries like this were part of the whole rich-celebrity deal, sign her up.