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| Cover of Dirty Little Rich Girl by C. L. Knight |
“What?”
“You think I’m some spoilt bitch,” she explained, lifting both hands and pushing back the hair that had fallen across her face. “And that turns you on,” she added. “You also think I’m nothing more than a cheap whore,” she smiled, tilting her head to one side, as she gazed at me. “And that really turns you on.”
“So, what? You’re teasing me?” I snapped, my eyes narrowing slightly.
Her lower lip stuck out in a thoughtful pout, as she shook her head. “It’s only a tease if I don’t have any intention of following through,” she calmly stated, taking a step towards me.
I let forth a quick burst of humorless laughter, as she continued to approach me. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I told her.
“Are you telling me you don’t want it just as badly now as you did before?” she challenged, one eyebrow arching as though daring me to contradict her.
I wanted to simply say, ‘yes’. I wanted, so badly, to tell her that I was no longer interested; that she was an itch and she’d been scratched. I wanted that to be true just as much for my own peace of mind as I wanted to wipe that smug look off her face. However, I couldn’t make the words come. And, as the seconds passed, I realized I didn’t have to say anything. My silence was speaking for itself.
“Clayton’s going away for the weekend,” she smiled. “This weekend,” she emphasized.
“Look,” I sighed, my eyes dropping to the leafy ground at me feet. “It’s not going to happen again.”
“Why?”
“Because your husband won’t just fire me if he finds out,” I snapped, annoyed that she couldn’t connect the dots on her own.
“I know,” she replied simply. “He’d probably kill you, but what a way to go, huh?” As she spoke, she stepped nearer until she was no more than a few inches from me. She was so close that I could feel her breath on my cheek.
“You’re insane,” I responded, my gaze meeting hers for the first time in several minutes, and suddenly noticing how dark her brown eyes had become. “Why?” I whispered.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to risk everything you have?”
“Like I said,” she breathed, her face drawing ever closer to mine. “What a way to go.” As if in slow motion, she brushed her lips gently against mine in something that was not even quite a kiss.
The scent of massage oils and whatever else she’d be covered with at the spa suddenly seemed overpowering. And, as my lips claimed hers, in what definitely was a kiss, I pushed her back against the car door.
My tongue raced over hers, diving in and out of her mouth as I felt the familiar rush of heat at my groin. My lips continued to press roughly against hers, as my hands grasped the hem, of her skirt and began pushing it upwards.
Her fingers moved rapidly over my chest, grabbing handfuls of my white dress shirt and tugging me closer. Until they hurriedly moved on again, searching out the muscles across my chest.
As my fingers found a pair of lacy panties, I was aware of the garment’s very damp crotch. And I found myself confronted with the image of Stockwell between her thighs just a few hours earlier. My tongue slipping from the warmth of her mouth, I instantly released her. Stepping back, as though I had been belted by an electric shock, I lifted my hand to my head and agitatedly ran it through my hair.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, utter confusion creasing her brow, as her kiss reddened mouth fell open in shock.
“I…umm,” I mumbled. It was ridiculous. I knew it was ridiculous, but somehow, I just couldn’t bring myself to slide into her on Stockwell’s old seed.
“Wait a minute,” she breathed, rising her left hand and pointing an index finger at me. “Clayton,” she mumbled. “Is that what’s bothering you, that he banged me this morning?” she asked, a slight smile quirking at her lips.
“No,” I lied. “I just….It’s just that I…” The movement of my hand as it ruffled through my hair became more frantic. “I mean, for God’s sake, the guy’s come is-”
“It’s all right,” she suddenly blurted, the smile not wavering as her hands disappeared up her skirt and remerged tugging a pair of black panties. “Actually,” she hummed. “As it happens, I had something else in mind.”
I simply watched her, as she kicked the underwear aside and her lithe body moved from the side of the car to the trunk.
“Come here,” she grinned, jerking her head.
When I tried to swallow, I realized my mouth had gone dry. My feet however, were following her command without any conscious prompting from my brain. As I reached her, she grasped my hand and tugged me in front of her, while she pressed her back against the trunk.
With both hands, she gripping her skirt and pulled the hem until it reached her waist.
My eyes immediately darted down to her pussy; the soft pink lips and small strip of hair glistening with her arousal. Once it was right there in front of me, what had happened earlier that morning mattered much less and my hands found themselves unclasping my pants.
“I had something else in mind,” she repeated, murmuring before leaning forward and running her tongue along my lower lip. “I want you,” she whispered, “where my husband’s never been.”
My mouth fell open when she turned in a half circle, her butt pressing against my groin, as she leaned forward over the trunk of the limo.
She glanced over her shoulder, blonde hair covering part of her face. She shifted her hips, rubbing the soft skin of her ass across the front of my pants and prompting my cock to twitch beneath the pressure.
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