“Come on birthday boy. Since you haven’t offered me a slice of your birthday cake, I thought you might like to choose yourself a present.”
"No cake," he said. "I don't want you getting a sugar rush and passing out on me."
She trailed his tie over her shoulder as she walked away, not turning because she knew he’d be behind her. She headed towards the boutique, but as they reached reception Dylan drew back, pinning her suddenly against the wall. He held her captive with his body, his hand braced on the bricks beside her head.
“The only good thing about birthdays is the kisses,” he muttered into her open mouth, then kissed her hard and filthy and made her legs weak. She sank her fingernails into the firmness of his ass and yanked him deeper against her, wrapping her leg around his calf.
“I could fuck you now, right here against this wall,” he whispered, putting his hand up her skirt and rubbing her through the silk of her knickers. “Rip these panties right off and slide my cock inside you.” He pulled the silk to one side and pushed his fingers into her folds. He wasn’t delicate, but it didn’t matter because he was a man who knew exactly how to touch a woman. Who knew when to take it slow, and when to come on hard. He found her clitoris without preamble. “You like that, English? You want me to get you off?” He licked into her mouth and slid his fingers inside her, making her yelp. Yes. Yes. Yes.
But… no!
It was his birthday, and from somewhere in the recesses of her mind she dredged the recollection that she wanted to be the giver first, not the receiver. But with every nerve ending in her body wanting the orgasm he was offering her, it was a Herculean task to put the brakes on.
“Dylan…” she regretfully unwound her leg from his and pushed lightly against his chest. He lifted his head a fraction, his hand still between her legs.
“I want to give you something for your birthday first,” she managed, breathless and almost boneless as his fingers stopped thrusting but carried on caressing.
“Watching you come is all I want,” he whispered, playing his fingertips over her clitoris, his body up close and sensual against hers, his breath in her mouth.
She wanted to come. Really wanted to. She was being pinned against the wall by the man who rocked her world, and he was doing things with his fingers that were probably illegal in several countries. She’d never wanted to come that much in her entire life.
Since the last time, at least.
Dylan’s eyes told her that he really wanted her to come too. They were hot, urgent and mesmerizing, locked on hers.
He pressed his weight harder against her, hitching her thighs apart with his own.
“I’ll stop if you want. Just say the word.”
She wanted to say the word. He licked her lips, his fingers sliding in the slick juices between her legs. She wanted to come. No. She wanted him to come first.
“Don’t fight me, baby,” he murmured, and Kara felt the beginnings of her orgasm glitter in her veins.
She didn’t want to fight him. She was seconds away from not being able to fight him.
Stop. Don’t stop. Never stop…
“Stop,” she croaked, pushing him hard enough to dislodge his hand. Her body cried out for him to come back, but he nodded with a slow, quizzical look and straightened her skirt over her thighs.
“You were so close,” he said, pulling her near again. “Drenched.”
She moved, restless. “It’s your birthday. You first.”
“You English and your impeccable manners.”
Kara breathed out shakily. “Trust me, Sailor. I’m right behind you in the queue.”
Chapter Thirty
A couple of minutes later, Kara stood in the centre of the softly lit boutique and twirled slowly on her heel with her arms spread wide. She felt a little more in control of herself now they were on her professional territory.
“Take your pick, birthday boy. Anything you like, my treat.”
“One of everything,” Dylan said, not even glancing around. “Now take your dress off and let me back between your legs. My birthday, my rules. I say you come first.”
Okay, maybe not quite in control.
The urge to strip and open her legs was really quite overpowering. She swallowed hard and moved to stand behind a glass counter for safety. He followed, standing in front of the counter with his head slightly to one side.
Kara looked down and tapped her fingernails on the glass, deciding what to offer him first.
He splayed his hands on the countertop, amused, ceding to her will for the moment.
“Okay. So what would you recommend, English?” His eyebrows flicked up and a lazy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
She reached out and slowly unknotted his tie, tugging it from around his neck as she reached into the glass cabinet for a black leather riding crop.
“Do I get to take your clothes off too?”
“Not yet.” She stroked the end of the crop down her neck, closing her eyes as she moved it across the swell of her breasts.
“That would look even sexier if you lost the dress,” Dylan said, his voice rich, deep and very, very interested.
Kara licked her lips, contemplating his suggestion. He was right, of course. She rounded the counter and presented her back to him, turning to glance suggestively over her shoulder. “Unzip me?”
He thought he had the upper hand, but he was dead wrong. He was coming first tonight, whether he wanted to or not. She steeled herself as his fingers brushed her back, and closed her eyes and bit her lip when his mouth lingered warm against her neck as he slid the zip all the way down to her backside. She held it in place with one arm, stepping away and turning to face him before letting it drop to the floor.
She’d dressed carefully, knowing that she wanted to seduce him. Her corset – deep ruby with black seams - cinched her waist in and pushed her breasts up, transforming her into his very own vintage dancing girl.
It didn’t quite cover her breasts. It lifted them up and offered her exposed nipples to him like sweet cherries.
She licked her lips and traced the leather crop down the side of her neck again, this time drawing it down around her nipple. He tracked it with his eyes, watching her stroke herself for him.
She placed the crop in his hand and unbuttoned his shirt, trailing her nails down his skin as she went.
Then she turned to the side, placed her elbows on the glass counter, and cupped her chin delicately in her hands. Her tiny silk knickers hid nothing of the curves of her bottom.
“No one’s ever spanked me before. I’d like you to be my first.”
He stepped closer, and Kara jumped a little as he stroked the cheek of her ass with the crop. She wasn’t lying. Spanking wasn’t something that had ever happened in her sex life before.
“You would, huh?” He trailed the crop down the backs of her thighs, feather-light over the tops of her suspenders. “I’m not sure I want to mark your beautiful creamy ass,” he said thoughtfully.
“Please? Just once?” she breathed. “I want to know what it feels like… and I want you to be the man who shows me.”
He licked his lips. “Close your eyes, English.”
She gulped, closing her eyes, her heart beating crazy fast in her chest. He ran the crop down between the cheeks of her ass, lower between her legs, over the silk there.
“You look sexy as fuck,” he said, his voice thick with lust. And then he bought the crop down on her, sharp enough to make her cry out. Fuck, it hurt, and fuck, she wanted him to do it again, only harder.