“There’s a point to this?”
Jillian grinned. “Absolutely. My point is, I learned early on that sex sells. Like most people it took some time for me to follow my instincts, but here I am … living the dream.”
“You’re not living the dream, but thanks for yet another entertaining story that I’m certain is one hundred percent fiction.”
“What if it’s not?” Jillian handed him her cocktail napkin that she’d been doodling on with a pen.
“What is this?” He knew what it looked like. Nothing about her should have been shocking any longer and yet, it was.
“Nine ways to Sunday.”
He found the one person whose mind was more fucked-up than his, and she was hours away from meeting his parents. The only thing more messed-up than the drawing of two figures—one with its head between the legs of the other that was tied to a bed in four-point restraints—was how it stirred his cock to life.
AJ shoved it in his pocket. “God, you’re twisted.”
Jillian interlaced her fingers with his. “And yet, here we are … together. Why is that?”
He released a heavy sigh. “I ask myself that question every damn day.”
*
Hot stagnant air filled the room. It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but for two hundred dollars AJ expected the air conditioner to work. Sweat beaded on his brow and trickled down his back that bowed from his arms being restrained behind the desk chair. The rope around each ankle chafed his skin every time he moved.
“You’re a sadist.”
Jillian rolled her eyes as she stood in her bra and panties, flipping through the TV channels. “Why does everyone say that?”
“I can only speculate why everyone says that, but I say it because you have me tied naked to the desk chair in a hotel room.”
“Fair point.” Her lips dipped into a frown at the screen. “There’s nothing good on here.” She left it on the hotel’s information channel and turned up the volume.
“Does elevator music get you off?”
Jillian removed her bra and panties. “Asks the naked guy saluting me with a very impressive erection.” She knelt down in front of him. “Hope you’re not too uncomfortable. If you would have sprung for the suite with the four-poster bed, we’d both be more comfortable.”
“I wasn’t going to pay fifteen hundred dollars for a fucking blow job.”
Jillian ran her hands up his legs then dragged them back down, letting her nails dig into his skin just shy of breaking it. AJ hissed.
“Then I’d say you haven’t really had a blow job.”
Jillian took him in her mouth and drew blood on his legs at the same time.
“Fuck!” he groaned, feeling the intense collision of pain and pleasure.
The chair creaked with protest as he bucked against the restraints. The rope sawed his wrists and ankles when he jerked his pelvis toward her, searching for a gag reflex she didn’t seem to have. Her tongue licked and swirled as she kept her gaze locked on his. In that instant, she reached the pinnacle of sexy, unlike anything he had ever seen. His vision blurred a bit with each heavy blink as he felt himself getting closer.
She grinned with him still in her mouth then released him.
“For the love of God …” he begged “… don’t stop.”
“Tell me you should have splurged for the suite.”
“What?” He panted the word, feeling almost delusional. “Untie me.”
Control—absolute physical control ran through his veins. It defined him, his career, his life. He’d never given such control to anyone before. Some perverse voice in his head convinced him to give it to Jillian. She was his kryptonite.
“Tell me you should have splurged for the suite.”
“No.” Every muscle fought the restraints. Every thought devised an escape.
Jillian glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “What time are your parents expecting us?”
AJ called his parents from the airport and told them not to pick them up because they had a few stops to make. The clock ticked with no mercy. He knew how it felt.
She slipped on his T-shirt and snatched the room key. “Have it your way. I’ll be right back.”
“Jillian!” he yelled over the nauseating elevator music.
She returned a few minutes later with a bucket of ice. “Now, let’s try this again.”
AJ was supposed to fuck her nine ways to Sunday. Jillian had other plans. Two hours later his dick felt in need of a cast and crutches, maybe even a wheelchair. Someone must have hypnotized and used word association with her. Nine ways to Sunday had to be a trigger for her horns to emerge, because she put him through hell. A woman sucking his dick with ice in her mouth gave new meaning to the word aroused. She brought him to the brink so many times until he conceded that he should have paid for the suite. Less than ten seconds later he came in her mouth, and even if the timing and purpose was inappropriate, he thanked God over and over again.