Off the Clock by Roni Loren
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he commanded.
She’d had her eyes squeezed shut the entire time, too overwhelmed by the feeling to take in any additional information. But at his command, her eyes automatically blinked open. And when she looked down her body, her gaze collided with his. He had her held in his palms, his lips slick and puffy, and without breaking contact he lifted her to his mouth and sucked on her clit.
The sight was so obscene, so goddamned decadent that she almost couldn’t take it. His gaze held hers like a rope tied between them, anchoring her and challenging her at the same time. Look at what I’m doing to you. Look at how filthy and sexy and shameless we are. He lapped at her—slow and sure—and then sucked and nipped at her flesh, bringing her to the edge and then easing her back again. Her brain filled with white noise, emptying of everything except what she was feeling and the man making her feel those things.
Then when she thought she couldn’t handle any more, Donovan reached for the wine bottle. While keeping a steady hand beneath her, he tipped it over her, dousing her sex with rich, ruby liquid. The cool splash was a shock against her hot skin, making her cry out, but then he was there licking it off her, dragging his tongue over her thighs and pussy, his lips going red with the stain of the wine.
The plinking drops of the wine dripping off her body onto the island and floor were unbearably erotic as Donovan got a roguish gleam in his eye and lowered the bottle. She didn’t have time to process what he was about to do. With his stare holding hers, he dragged the mouth of the bottle along her slit, smooth glass against throbbing flesh. Then he pressed it to her entrance.
Oh. Fuck.
Her arousal was absolute, everything slippery and aching, and the ridged opening of the bottle slid into her without a fight.
Donovan’s expression flared with unrepentant desire as he pumped the very tip inside of her with shallow thrusts. “Any way I want. That’s how I’m going to fuck you, Rush.”
The words rang through her, setting off sparks and making everything catch fire. She’d worried he’d treat her like a sweet, inexperienced virgin. She’d worried that he’d go easy on her. She’d been wrong. So very wrong.
He was going to break her into a million pieces.
And she was going to let him.
He dragged the bottle out of her, leaving her empty and pulsing with the need to be filled, and then he lifted the bottle to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and draining the last few drops of it. All the while he held her gaze. He licked his lips when he was done. “You’re sweeter than the wine.”
Her head dropped back to the island with a groan. She could die. That’d be fine.
He pushed the neck of the bottle back into her, a little deeper, and this time she welcomed the invasion. Her body needed that pressure and he knew just how far to go—not too deep but enough to make her hyperaware of every sensation down there. Then he put his mouth back on her, licking, sucking, tasting while he fucked her with the bottle. In and out, in and out. Everything went white in her vision, and her head listed from side to side against the counter. It all felt like too much all of a sudden, too overwhelming. “Oh, God. Oh, God . . . I can’t take . . .”
There was no going back. A release like she’d never had in her life busted through the gates, trampling any shred of sanity she had left. Her back arched, her body seized, and all the colors of the rainbow cascaded behind her eyelids in a blinding waterfall. She screamed, an all-out, losing-her-goddamned-mind shriek and then she was rocking and floating and giving in to it all.
She didn’t know how long her orgasm went on or what was happening around her. All she knew was that Donovan was there anchoring her, giving her pleasure, bringing her to this place she’d never been. And when she felt like she couldn’t handle any more and started tapping the counter with her hand, he eased the bottle away and held her in place on the island while she panted her way back down to earth.
She knew she should do something, say something—move. But before she got enough strength to open her eyes, she was being lifted. Strong arms adjusted beneath her, and she rested her head against a spot that seemed natural. She felt Donovan’s stubble, smelled the faint scent of his skin. She inhaled deeply and nuzzled against his neck, mumbling nonsense.
Donovan chuckled softly. “Let’s get you in the bath. Then you can attempt speech again.”
She lifted her hand with a thumbs-up.
He kissed the top of her head. “Dork.”
“Pot and kettle,” she murmured.
“Yeah, that’s us.”
Us. She shouldn’t like the sound of that so much.
21
Marin looked ridiculously sexy in his plaid bathrobe when she stepped into his bedroom. He’d bathed her and washed her hair in the tub, giving her time to settle after her orgasm, to process things. But she’d asked for a few minutes to herself at the end. He’d given it to her but worried that she’d needed it because he’d overwhelmed her.
He hadn’t planned on letting things go where they had. He’d only wanted to taste her, to give her the pleasure of oral sex. But when he’d gotten her spread and naked across his kitchen island, his baser instincts had kicked in. He’d wanted to not just please her, but to drive her out of her mind, to sully her, to take all that innocence and dirty it up.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a more erotic sight than Marin, legs spread, pussy bared, and body dripping with expensive wine and her own arousal. Fuck, every time he saw the picture in his head, he’d had to fight not to stroke himself. He may never be able to drink merlot again without thinking about how it tasted mingling with Marin’s flavor. But tonight wasn’t about him. He would be patient, give her time to wrap her head around all this, figure out if he’d gone too far too quickly.
Marin rolled up the too long sleeves of his robe and gave him a tentative smile. “So, hey.”
With her makeup washed off and her hair damp, he was reminded of just how young she was. Her fierce smarts and all she’d been through made her seem closer to his age, but right now, post orgasm and unsure of herself, their eight-year difference was obvious. Once again, he worried if he was taking advantage. They hadn’t talked much during the bath. She’d been quiet, still coming down from all that had happened, but now was going to be the moment of truth. He’d find out if he’d blown it, if he’d scared her. “Hey.”
Her gaze skated over him. “You’re still dressed.”
Something unlocked in his chest at her easy tone. “I like that you sound disappointed.”
She gave him a small smile. “I feel like I’m at a disadvantage. You’ve seen, uh . . . everything there is to see of me.”
He patted the bed. “Afraid I’m going to renege on our deal?”
She padded over, her feet quiet on the hardwood, and sat on the bed. “I guess I’m just feeling a little unsure of where to go from here. I didn’t . . . well, I didn’t expect what happened to happen.”
He reached out to grab her hand. “Come ’ere.”
She let him tug her closer, and he wrapped his arm around her, letting her settle against his chest. He could feel her quick heartbeat against him. She was far more nervous than she was showing on her face. It was easy to forget that she’d never done this, that it was all new to her. Being with anyone this way. Sharing a bed. Touching. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I told you I’m all yours. But there’s no pressure here. We can just sit like this, relax. Talk. Whatever. I know that things went a little far out there. I seem to have trouble taking things slow and easy with you. So I’m sorry if I pushed you past where you wanted to go.”
Her fingers traced over his T-shirt almost absently. “You said that the first time, too. I remember you felt bad that you’d been rough.”
“Of course I felt bad. You were a virgin. I was afraid I’d hurt you.”
“Mmm,” she said noncommittally.
She didn’t say anything else for a few minutes. The whole thing should’ve felt
He traced his fingers up and down her arm. “You okay?”
“You like things rough,” she said, her tone pensive.
He shifted his hold on her so he could look down at her. “Was I too rough with you? If I was, you just have to tell me.”
She chewed her lip and peeked up at him, some of her trademark blush staining her cheeks. “Well, you doused me with wine and fucked me with the bottle.”
He winced. “I—”
“But I’ve never come that hard in my life. And I’m pretty good at making myself do that.”
His lips snapped shut.
She scooted over and propped herself up on her hand. “I guess I’m just wondering that if that’s Donovan 101, what’s the master class?”
The question sent wariness through him. “What do you mean?”
“How far do those desires go? Like, what do you think about when you’re alone and there’s nothing to censure your fantasies? Is it like your recordings or more than that?”
He frowned. “Marin—”
“Hey, look, I’m asking you personal questions and not getting embarrassed. You should be proud.” She gave him a wry smile. “Plus, you said no judgment for me. I’m offering the same to you. I’m just curious. Not saying I’m willing to go there.”
He sighed and let his head fall back on the pillow. “You’re asking for my dark corner stuff, doctor? Do you charge by the hour?”
She shoved him in the side. “I do. But you couldn’t afford me.”
He stared at the ceiling fan going round and round. He should probably edit himself. He’d already set her off balance. If he told her some of his darker fantasies, he’d probably freak her out for good. But he couldn’t find it in himself to lie to her. “You’re right. I like rough-and-tumble stuff and I like control. Things like giving chase and capturing someone or holding a woman down while I fuck her has a lot of appeal. Enjoying someone fighting back. All with previous consent, of course. Role-play stuff.” He wet his lips, trying to tamp back images of him doing those things with Marin, of crossing those boundaries with her. He cleared his throat. “I think because I have to be so stoic and calm at work that the abandon of that kind of thing calls to me.”
He peered down at her when she didn’t respond, needing to see her reaction. Instead of looking terrified, her forehead was wrinkled in thought. “I can see that. You don’t have to be the nice guy then, the ever-understanding therapist, the blank slate.”
She got it. Of course she did. The woman was an observer of human nature just like he was. “I like what I do, but you’ve seen how it is. You always have to be on. You can’t have bad days or show too much emotion with clients. It can be exhausting.”
“But you liked the rough fantasies before you were a therapist.”
He smirked. “Now you are trying to give me a session, Dr. Rush. I was the smart kid in school. Easy target for bullies until my height shot up in high school. I learned early on that people lose interest when you don’t give them a reaction. I learned not to show my cards to anyone. He who controls his emotions holds all zee power.”
She snorted at his dramatic tone. “And she who blushes loses all the credibility.”
He laughed and gathered her against him again, liking the feel of her nestled in the crook of his arm. “We’re working on that. Soon your therapist face will be impenetrable.”
“Then I guess I’ll be the one wanting to break free and have wild, kinky sex.” She shifted against him. “Or who knows? Maybe I’m already getting to that point.”
He gave in to the urge to stroke his fingers through her hair. He imagined Marin had spent a lot of her life following very strict plans and putting on a brave face—taking care of her mother, becoming a parent to her younger brother, now trying to be a sex therapist when she hadn’t been afforded time in her life to experience her own sex life. If anyone had earned some wildness it was her.
“You were beautiful tonight, Marin. The way you gave yourself over to it.” He peered down at her, watching his fingers sliding through her dark fine hairs. “You may blush at things at work, but you’re sexy as fuck when you push past that initial anxiety. It’s part of the reason I couldn’t resist taking things beyond what I had planned tonight. I think you might be as filthy and kinky as I am, you just haven’t had the opportunity to indulge in it.”
“Are you calling me a slut who hasn’t lived up to her potential?” she teased.
“If I was, it’d be a compliment.” He rolled to his side, shifting her onto her back so he could look down at her. He traced the smooth skin of her chest along the edge of the partially open robe. “All I’m saying is that you’re inexperienced, but I doubt you’re vanilla. A vanilla woman would’ve balked at what I just told you I fantasized about, been scared or turned off or worried. She would’ve already left.”
She rubbed her lips together. “I didn’t say I was going to volunteer for those things.”
“You didn’t say you wouldn’t.” He gently pushed the robe to the side, exposing the curve of her breast. He drew a finger around her nipple, the tempting bud immediately tightening in response.
She shuddered beneath the gentle attention and closed her eyes. “Maybe it’s because I’m not scared that you’d hurt me. And I know if I said no or stop, you would.”
He watched her, breathing that in. Marin had no idea how big a fucking deal those simple words were. She trusted him—with her body, with her safety, with her pleasure. It was about the biggest gift she could give him. “Thank you. I’m glad you know you’re safe with me. You absolutely are.”
She opened her eyes and let her hand drift downward until she was scraping over his denim-clad thigh. “I want to touch you.”
The sight of her naked, warm form beneath that robe was calling to him. His cock had already grown hard and urgent against his fly. He wanted to take his time this go-round, explore and nibble and taste every inch of her. But he’d promised her something, and he wasn’t going to deny her.
He reached behind him and tugged off his T-shirt, liking the way her eyes roved over him. “I’m all yours, gorgeous.”
She pushed up onto an elbow and then flattened a hand against his shoulder, urging him onto his back. She propped herself above him and gave him a long, slow consideration. When her eyes lingered on the outline of his erection, his cock responded, growing even harder and sending a sharp ache through him.
“You really are unfairly beautiful,” she declared.
A choked laugh snuck out of him. “Somehow I feel like you’re insulting me.”
“I totally am.” Her hand curved around his erection and stroked. All joking fell aside as his stomach muscles tensed, the light touch ridiculously potent.
When she gave him a squeeze, he hissed. “Fuck.”
She mapped him again with teasing fingers. “I want to give you what you gave me.”
“Keep doing that and it won’t take long.”
She moved her hand away and walked her fingers over his abdomen, exploring, dragging her nails through the trail of dark hair there. She paused at the waistband of his jeans. “No, I want you to show me how to do it with my mouth.”
He groaned. More perfect words had never been uttered. He wanted to frame those words and gaze upon them daily. “You don’t have to return the favor. You
She adjusted herself, lifting a knee and straddling his thigh. She was naked beneath the robe and he got a flash of pert breasts and the trimmed dark hair between her thighs as she settled over him. Desire crashed through him.
“I want to know how a man tastes.” She leaned down and traced the tip of her tongue around his naval before lifting her head again. “I want to know how you taste specifically, Donovan West.”
Fucking hell. His head was going to explode. His cock would follow. This woman had no idea how effortlessly erotic she was. He reached out and palmed the back of her head, giving it a squeeze, trying to quell the roar of desire. “Want some chocolate lube on standby?”
Her smile was unhurried, dark amusement there. “I don’t like things sugarcoated. I like them real.”
Real. That’s what she demanded of him. And so far, he found he didn’t mind giving her just that. He reached down and unhooked the button on his jeans. When he tugged down the zipper and freed his cock, the change over Marin’s expression was enough to fucking undo him right there. She looked . . . fascinated. And hungry for him.
His instincts rumbled to the surface. “Guess it’s time you learn how to suck my cock, then.”
* * *
Marin’s breath left her at the sight of Donovan’s thick erection in his hand, and her body clenched hard. She’d seen enough penises in her day in books and videos and wherever. But nothing had prepared her for the raw sensuality of seeing this man stiff and ready for her. The tip was flushed and glossy with arousal, and when he ran his thumb over the slit, rubbing the fluid along the head, she almost died. Part of her wished she could just watch him stroke himself, see how he took his pleasure. Did he make noise? Did he slick himself up with lube, making everything shiny and smooth. Did he play with his balls or tease himself?
Goddamn. She was never ever going to be short on masturbation material again. This sight alone could get her off.
She licked her lips as Donovan adjusted her so he could kick his jeans and underwear off. When she was straddling his thigh again, she indulged in the view. The dark thatch of trimmed hair at the base, the heavy sac that looked impossibly masculine, and that proud aroused cock. She wanted to touch and explore, to run her fingers everywhere and follow the path with her tongue.