Sushi: A Forbidden Flowers Story Page 5

  “No, I mean all of it. The spa, the dress”—she glanced down at her feet—“the shoes. I can pay my own way.”

  He closed the distance between them and gingerly lifted the hem of her dress with one hand as he dipped the other underneath and found the front of her thong.

  “I know you can.”

  She sucked in her breath as his fingers slid under the elastic to tease the freshly waxed bare skin beneath.

  It was the first time Gabe had touched her so intimately, as well as the first time she’d ever been waxed bald. The combination was unlike anything she’d ever felt. She was at his mercy as he slid his fingers between her labia, spreading her slickness, then teased her sensitive clit as he retreated to her hairless mound.

  “But I didn’t do all this just for you.” The tip of his middle finger circled her swollen nub, setting off fireworks.

  If she’d known being waxed bare could increase her sensitivity like this, she would have started waxing years ago, when all her friends had started doing it.

  His lips caressed the shell of her ear as he planted his fingers on either side of her clit and rubbed her up and down, making her gasp. “I did it for me too,” he whispered.

  In other words, he liked a bare pussy and wanted her at the peak of responsiveness.

  “Other than this”—he brushed his fingers up the smoothness of her waxed skin—“seeing you dressed so provocatively in clothes I bought for you turns me on.”

  “Oh, really?” she teased, struggling to remain composed as he continued fondling her. “Why is that?”

  He kissed her ear and teased her clit with the tip of his middle finger. “It’s a man thing.”

  A man thing. More like a Tarzan thing. What was it about men and their need to provide for their women, even when their women were more than capable of providing for themselves?

  But, really, did it matter? Gabe had excellent taste, and if letting him treat her to nice clothes and jewelry turned him on, she would let him buy her a whole new wardrobe. She was beyond ready to get this man inside her and would do whatever it took.

  She rotated her hips against his hand as he pressed his palm against her. “If you keep touching me this way, I’m going to come.”

  He chuckled darkly, stopped massaging her, and eased his hand from inside her thong. “Patience.”

  She ached from the absence of his touch. “I’m almost out of patience.”

  “So am I.” He sniffed his fingers, sliding his teeth over his bottom lip, then took a step back and handed her the clutch he’d bought for her. “So, let’s get our civic duty over with so we can go back to my place and christen the new bed I bought last week.”

  A new bed? Was that just a coincidence, or had he bought it just for her, so she wouldn’t have to sleep where any of his exes had?

  As they stepped outside, he took her hand and leaned in. “I hope you got plenty of sleep this week while I was gone.”

  “I did.” She remember quite well what he’d said to her on the phone last week, about getting her rest because he was going to keep her up all night.

  He opened the back door of the limousine for her. “Good, because you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

  He sure was confident for a man on the verge of turning fifty. But she liked that. And she had a feeling he would make good on his threat.

  Lucky her.

  Chapter Seven

  It turned out that Slater the photographer was a bit of a freak.

  His photographs were kinky as hell, sexual in every way a picture could be sexual, and, in some cases, a bit pornographic.

  And exactly the fuel Jordan needed to keep her inner fires burning.

  “You knew what was going to be on display at this opening, didn’t you?” she said to Gabe as she came face to face—or face to nipple—with another jumbo-sized photograph of an exquisitely lit nude woman draped in wet silk. Slater certainly knew how to work the light.

  They’d moved from the back of the gallery, where women in bondage and couples engaged in various soft-porn sex acts adorned the walls, to the front of the gallery, where the nudity was more artistic and tasteful.

  Gabe studied the picture with a critical eye. “I might have been given a heads-up.”

  “Interesting choice of words.” She glanced toward the next photograph, which was of an exceedingly large, very engorged erect penis draped in the same white silk as the woman’s breasts in the previous photograph. Both pictures had small gold placards marking them as sold attached to the bottom corners of their frames. No doubt, some wealthy sadist had bought them to hang in his dungeon.

  Gabe followed her gaze, grinned knowingly, then plucked the half-empty champagne flute from her hand and placed it on a passing tray with his.

  “You ready to get out of here?” He skimmed his fingers up her arm to her elbow.

  She waved her clutch toward the array of pictures lining the wall, many of which also displayed gold placards. “Aren’t you going to buy one of these fabulous photographs?”

  All the nudity and sexuality aside, they were exceptional pieces of art. Despite his flair for kink, Slater had a superb eye for the physical form, color, texture, and lighting. And probably one hell of a sex life, if his work was any indication.

  Letting go of her hand, Gabe shook his head, wound his arm around her waist, and pulled her against him. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

  Biting her bottom lip, she ran her palms down the front of his tuxedo jacket. “Then I’m ready to go when you are.”

  He escorted her to the back of the gallery, where he cut through a gaggle of attractive women to say goodbye to his Max, who he had introduced her to earlier.

  Max Slater was a strikingly handsome man in his mid to late twenties, so it was no wonder beautiful women had surrounded him all evening. Except he appeared to be anything but interested in them, as if he’d grown weary of all the blathering attention.

  His eyes brightened when he saw her and Gabe, as if he finally had someone interesting to talk to.

  “We’re heading out, Max,” Gabe said, shaking Slater’s hand.

  “So soon?”

  “We’ve been here almost two hours,” Gabe replied with a smile.

  “Ah, yes, time does fly, doesn’t it?” Slater glanced around the room as if he’d been having fun, despite the annoying groupies vying for his attention. Then he flashed Jordan the kind of smile that probably melted panties on both coasts. “So, did you enjoy the show?”

  She looked up into Gabe’s dark-blue eyes, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. “Yes, it was . . . uh . . .” How did you express appreciation for a gallery full of nudity and porn?

  “Inspirational,” Gabe said, curling his fingers suggestively around hers.

  Her face heated even more as she faced Slater again. “Yes, um, it was very inspirational.” No doubt she and Gabe would be incredibly inspired once they were alone.

  Max looked from her to him and back again, his smile transforming into a knowing smirk. “Then, by all means, go and be inspired.”

  They said good night, and Gabe retrieved her shawl from the coat check after texting Timothy to bring the car around.

  Twenty minutes later, he unlocked the door to his Manhattan penthouse and stood aside for her to enter.

  She’d been to his mansion north of the city and had seen pictures of his Malibu beach house, but this was her first time inside his apartment.

  It did not disappoint.

  Decorated in shades of gray, black, and white, with several paintings, a yellow, asymmetrical glass bowl in the center of the coffee table, and a pair of hand-painted lamps providing the only color, the decor appeared as comfortable as it was elegant. Crown molding, marble floors, and arched cased openings gave the entire space an unrestricted, palatial air.

  She followed him into the kitchen and slid her fingers over the cold, gleaming marble countertop as he tossed his tuxedo jacket over the back of a barstool and loosened his tie
on his way to the brushed steel refrigerator. He opened the door and pulled out a glass bottle of sparkling water.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, holding the refrigerator door open to reveal a bowl of deep-red strawberries and a covered platter of meat and cheese, along with a dozen other options.

  She placed her hand on the back of his shoulder. There was only one thing she wanted, but if he wanted to eat first, she was fine with that. After all, she’d waited this long, what was another fiteen minutes? “Are you?”

  Her eyelashes fluttered as she raised her eyes to his. A month ago, she couldn’t have imagined being so captivated by a man nearly twice her age. Now, here she was, in his home, wearing a white satin dress that with a quick flick of the spaghetti straps would cascade to the floor and reveal every inch of her nudity except for the tiny, hairless sliver covered by her thong. That was all that stood between her bare skin and his fiery gaze: a white satin dress he had bought for her just so he could take it off her at the end of the night.

  He still hadn’t answered her, so she stepped closer, letting her hand slide down his back to the belted waist of his tailored black slacks. “Gabe?” She reached up and brushed one strap of her dress off her shoulder. The loose fabric sagged, revealing the upper swell of her breast. “Are you? Hungry?”

  The silence that followed as his gaze dropped to her freshly exposed skin was palpable. Time stood still in the slash of light coming from inside the refrigerator. Then he shoved the door closed, hooked one arm around her waist, and backed her against the counter as he cupped her partially bared breast.

  “Ravenous.” His mouth crashed down over hers with the feverish need of parched earth tasting its first drop of rain in months.

  And, really, wasn’t that what this was? They’d gone without the one thing both had wanted for three weeks, and now the time had come to release the reins. To free themselves and experience what they’d been so good at from across the room.

  Gruffly yanking the satin away from her breast, he took a moment to drink in her exposed breast. Her nipple puckered under his hungry gaze.

  No man had ever looked at her more lustfully . . . with a smoldering intensity so potent it should have come with a warning. Then again, she’d never dated a man with the patience and discipline to starve his sex drive for her.

  Was such incredible self-control an old-man thing, or was it a Gabe thing?

  Hooking his hands under her armpits, he lifted her and plopped her butt on the counter before scooting her hips to the edge. He bent over her and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly and scraping his teeth over her taut flesh.

  Her whole body jerked as her fingers dove into his hair, her nails digging into his scalp as she threw back her head and cried out.

  She’d always had a thing for a man sucking her nipples, but Gabe wasn’t just sucking, he was devouring. When he yanked the buttery satin down to expose her other breast and lightly twisted her nipple between his fingers as he ground his erection against her, she saw stars.

  Lying back on the counter, she flung her legs around his hips and pressed herself eagerly against his crotch as he shoved up the skirt of her dress.

  “Fuck me, Gabe,” she whispered hotly on a moan, writhing on the smooth marble, already so close to coming that she feared he might not even get it in before she let go. “I can’t wait any longer.”

  He was already dragging her thong down her thighs.

  “I won’t last long,” he said through a tight throat as he pulled a condom from his pocket and unbuckled his belt.

  “Neither will I.”

  It didn’t matter. They had all night to take it slow. This first time needed to be fast, hard, and rough. A purge of three weeks’ worth of frustration, anticipation, and tension.

  After freeing his erection and sheathing it in latex, he gripped her legs by the thighs and held them against the sides of his body, tugging her forward until her ass hung halfway off the edge of the marble.

  She clutched the front of his shirt with both hands as he invaded her space, breaching her with one forceful thrust.

  Her muscles contracted around him almost immediately, already on the verge of orgasm.

  “Jesus.” He growled through clenched teeth. “You’re tight.”

  “I’m about to come.” She fisted his shirt with both hands and pulled him forward. “Fuck me. Fuck me!”

  Slapping one palm against the edge of the counter, he used it for leverage as he began pounding into her like a man possessed.

  Within seconds, he was tracking toward completion with her, a string of grunts punctuated by raspy profanities pouring from his throat.

  “Now, now, now!” Her vision briefly went black as the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced consumed her, slaying her sense of reason. She might have even glimpsed Jesus. Or maybe that was just Gabe in his white shirt, still driving into her, drawing out her pleasure like a saint.

  But after three weeks of agonizing foreplay, had she expected anything less?

  While she was still in the throes of orgasm, his body stiffened and shuddered. A ragged grunt ripped out of him a moment later as his swollen cock throbbed inside her, filling the condom. A long, protracted growl strained from his throat, his body twitching every couple of seconds as his dark gaze locked on to hers.

  She’d been with other guys. Men closer to her own age. She’d seen and felt her share of men come. But never had she witnessed a male orgasm sexier than Gabe’s. Watching him come made her want to come again.

  “God, you’re sexy,” she said, squeezing her inner muscles around him.

  He closed his eyes and groaned, his cock jerking harshly. When he opened them again, he bent forward and kissed her, still breathless. “So are you.”

  They remained on the counter, his body over hers, until they had both recovered enough to move. Then he pushed himself up, took her hand, and helped her back to her feet, immediately pulling her to him, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

  “I told you I wouldn’t be able to last long.”

  She shrugged, playing her fingers over the unbuttoned placket of his shirt. “We have all night.”

  He slid his palms down over her ass. Her breasts were still exposed, but the dress hung loosely from her body.

  “That’s one of the things I like about you, Jordan. You always seem to know what I’m thinking.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ninety minutes later and wearing Gabe’s shirt—and nothing else—Jordan sat across his lap at the dining room table, letting him feed her a strawberry dipped in whipped cream.

  “Mmm, that’s good.” She licked cream off her lip.

  “I have a chef who whips it by hand,” he said, collecting more on another berry.

  She dipped her finger into the bowl of cloudlike sweetness, then licked it off. “It’s so much better than store-bought.”

  He popped the berry into his mouth. “Ew.” His tone dripped with phony revulsion. “Store-bought. How barbaric.”

  His witty sense of humor had really begun to shine in the last few days, making him even sexier. Then again, didn’t every woman love a smart man?

  “I know, right?” She scooped another fingerful of cream from the bowl. “Such heathenry.”

  He rewarded her sarcastic humor with a quiet chuckle. “Is that even a word?”

  “It is now.” She bit into another berry, enjoying the last of the small feast he’d pulled from the fridge for them.

  A few cucumber slices and cubes of cheese remained on the plate of food they’d shared but had now been pushed to the side. Sustenance to get them through the rest of the night after two fierce rounds of intense lovemaking.

  After their fast-and-furious coupling on the kitchen counter, they had moved to the living room couch, where he’d knelt on the floor in front of her and worshipped her hairless mound properly, working her over with his tongue. All women should have such faithful subjects.

  He’d taken her to the edge of anot
her orgasm, then stopped abruptly, flipped her over so that her knees dropped to the floor and her head pressed into the cushion, shoved her legs open, and finished her from behind, his body slapping forward against the cheeks of her ass as he gripped her hips.

  The resulting orgasm was just as fierce as the first.

  And given the hardness pressing against Jordan’s hip through his boxer briefs as he caressed her lips with another strawberry, Gabe was nowhere near done.

  The man certainly had stamina. A lot more than men half his age. Something he’d attributed to his daily yoga practice when she had playfully teased him about taking Viagra.

  He tugged on the open collar of the shirt hanging off her shoulders. “You look good in my clothes.”

  She licked another fingerful of whipped cream into her mouth. “I smell good in your clothes too.” She brought the fabric to her nose and inhaled. He wore a unique scent, both fruity and smoky, with vanilla notes.

  “You like that?”

  She nodded. “What is it?”

  “Aventus.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s a thousand dollars a bottle.”

  Her eyes popped open.

  He grinned and eased his hands over her hips, hoisting her higher on his lap. “I have expensive tastes in cologne.”

  “And here I thought buying a five-hundred-dollar pair of shoes was extravagant.” She swept her fingertips over his forehead, brushing aside his salt-and-pepper hair as she caressed his stubbly cheek with her lips. “But given how hot your cologne gets me,” she whispered, “I’d say it’s worth every penny.”

  He shifted her so she was facing him and her thighs straddled his lap. “Hot, huh?”

  She nodded, gripping a loose fistful of his hair as she slowly rocked against him. “Would you like to see how hot?”

  He groaned approvingly. “Actually”—he shoved down the waist of his boxer briefs, revealing his thick, freshly erect cock—“I was hoping you’d act out that chair fantasy you masturbated to on the phone last week. It sounded fucking amazing.”

  “What if you don’t measure up to the fantasy?” she teased, knowing already that he more than did.