18. Mila

"Damien, this is insane. I can't accept this," I state, with both hands placed on my hips, as I continually shake my head. The silver ford fusion sitting idly in the parking lot before me is a gesture too extravagant on Damien's part. He grins, looking devilishly handsome in an Armani suit, with the keys dangling in his hand as he shakes them teasingly beside me.

"Stop over thinking it and indulge, Mila." He admonishes, stepping forward and reaching for my hand. I don't pull away from him and let him open my hand to drop the keys on my palm. He closes my hand around the keys into a fist and brings it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

"It's a loan. I will pay you back."

He releases my head, dragging his through is dark locks, before he holds up his hands in surrender.

"Fine. We'll call it a loan if that makes you feel better."

I shoot him a look and roll my eyes before stepping forward.

"I just don't want you thinking I'm some hussy you can pay for," I grumble, while I bend to inspect the layout of the inside with a quick sweep of my eyes in the window.

I yelp when I feel his arms encircle me from behind, tugging me backward so I'm pressed firmly against his front.

"How about you join me at the Gentleman's club and we'll call it even?"

"That can't possibly be a fair trade," I reply, and squeal when he captures my earlobe with his teeth, nibbling playfully. He moves his hands around to my hips, feeling the curves, massaging my sides gently, before I feel him pull away.

"Oh, Mila. Just seeing you bound and submitted to me, is reward enough."

Quietly contemplating what he's said, I run my hand along the top of the car, remaining flabbergasted by the car he's purchased for me.

It's not like I don't want to go to the club. In fact, the thought excites me. I'm just .... Worried. I don't know fully what to expect.

Images of that night he publicly whipped and fucked a woman come to my mind, and a pang of something in my chest causes me to furrow my brows.

What the hell was that?

A mocking chuckle surfaces in my head, and a sarcastic tone voices my thoughts.

You know exactly what that is.

The familiar green monster every woman who's every dated a man has come to know.

Jealousy.

And curiosity.

No way in hell would I be comfortable with that.

"Sounds like it'd be your treat. Where does that leave me?"

I twist on my heel and observe him with my hands crossed over my chest. He shoves his hands in his pockets, narrows his eyes, and leans against the car.

"I think you underestimate how much of a treat it would be for you."

My eyes drop down to his lips, where his tongue moves slowly along his bottom lip before he bites his lip, and smirks. Every sculpted inch of his face causes me to inhale a sharp breath, and a shiver to run down my spine.

"Well maybe you'll have to prove me wrong," I say, quirking a brow challengingly at him.

He snickers, eyes moving away from me briefly before he strokes his tie, tightens it and averts his gaze back to me. His eyes have darkened with humor, and something more delicious.

Pure lust.

I expected a sarcastic reply, one alike himself. When he remains silent, I tilt my head, and attempt to gauge his reaction.

He begins stepping towards me, determination in his expression, before he's intimately pressing me against the car.

The heat radiating off him is intoxicating.

I melt against the car; thankful he's pressed into me enough to keep my legs from giving out as he nudges my legs apart with his.

I glance around paranoid that someone will see us in the parking lot behind his office building. There's no one in sight, thankfully.

Damien's fingers trace my collarbone, before skimming down my breast, stopping to rub his thumb against the hardened bud of my nipple that's poking and erect underneath the thin cloth of my dress.

"It seems you're more excited about the notion of the club than you let on," He teases, circling my nipple with his thumb. I open my mouth to argue with him, but once he slips his hand into the top of my dress, cupping my breast in his palm, a small moan escapes, and I arch my back, practically resting my head on the top of the car.

"Fuck baby, I missed that sound."

Gently massaging my breast, he uses his other hand, and runs his fingers down my side, before grabbing my parted thigh, and tracing patterns on the inside of my thigh.

"Damien, someone will see," I whine, completely entrapped by the wonderful sensations he's causing to surface on my body.

"Good thing I'm a lawyer," He replies, and moves his mouth to the base of my throat.

His fingers travel inward towards my pussy. He's not phased by my panties. He hooks two fingers into them, and yanks them to the side, swiping gently against the wetness on my slit.

"You're soaked, Mila. I could enter you right now, slide my cock in this wet cunt of yours, and fuck you so good up against this car," he breathes, pressing his hips forward against my thigh so I can feel the bulge of his dick in his pants. "It'd be so easy."

I'm overcome with raw desire, insides clenching as he gently strokes my folds.

"Come to the club tonight," He says, teasing the tip of his finger into my entrance. I widened my legs farther, and press my hips downward to try and capture more length of his finger, but he tsks and shakes his head, pulling back slightly. "Come to my club tonight baby, and let me show you just how good you can feel."

He places a firm hand on my hip, and swiftly enter two fingers into me, stretching and fucking my pussy until I'm breathless. Moans slip from my tongue, wet noises from the juice of my arousal surround us, and low, sensual grunts from Damien serenade my purrs of ecstasy.

"I feel your walls clenching around me. God, I want to fuck you," He growls, and quickens his pace, hooking his fingers upward to hit my g-spot.

This man knows exactly what he's doing.

Butterflies swirl in my stomach as he pumps his fingers in and out, and I know I'll orgasm soon.

"I-I'm gonna come," I warn, and my eyes flutter shut. I feel him lean forward and capture my mouth with his, swallowing my pants as he fucks me into oblivion. I come undone, crying out mercilessly as my orgasm sweeps through my body.

He doesn't remove his fingers until my insides stop clenching, and when he does, he brings his hand up to my face and commands me to open my mouth. I open, watching intrigued as he slips his fingers into my mouth. He wants a show, I'll give him a damn show. I grab a hold of his wrist, slowly bringing my mouth down on his fingers as far as I can get them into my mouth, and suck. I swirl my tongue around the tips of his finger and slowly slide them out of my mouth with a 'pop.' Licking my lips, I grin at him.

"I guess I'll go to the club tonight. Especially if there will be more of that."

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, I'm certain there will be."

***

When I return home from work, still beaming from the new car smell in my Fusion, I furrow my brows when I notice a decorative shopping bag sitting on my bed. A card is stapled to the strap of it.

*Wear this tonight. Meet me there at 9.

I remove the tissue paper, and pull out the outfit. It appears to be a black body harness with straps that move in patterns along my skin. Little silver rings hang from it, I assume for suspension, or something else. It's flattering and intimidating all at the same time. I twist it in my hands, observing each piece of the outfit.

This man is high maintenance.

I giggle at the thought. Setting the harness back into the bag, I pull out my phone and send Damien a quick text.

*I hope I'm allowed to wear something to cover this while on my way to the club. Wouldn't want anyone indulging in the sight of me.

Smirking, I send the text, tossing my phone onto the bed, before I decide to try on the harness. Peeling off my clothes, thankful to shed them as they remind me of work, I contemplate whether I should leave my panties and bra on, or just discard them as well. I've never worn anything like this. Lingerie is the closest I've gotten to something so intimate and revealing. There's no lingerie to go along with it, nothing to cover the most sensitive parts of me.

No surprise there. Damien's a man who likes to see everything up close.

I decide to remove my underwear, and attempt to get the harness on. The straps on the top give the illusion my breasts are caged. It's incredibly seductive. The bottom piece is where most of the metal ringlets are. I secretly wonder what he's going to do with me in this. My eyes glance nervously to my phone. No text yet. I could always google search some things.

Yeah, if you wanna scare yourself.

Once I've pulled the harness on and secured everything into place, I walk over to my closet where a body length mirror waits.

"Holy fuck," I mumble when I get a glimpse of my appearance. The top straps are tight, and shape my breasts nicely. They look like they're ready to spill into greedy palms. I snicker, and turn sideways, admiring how lifted my ass looks in this. If I were Damien, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off myself either.

I hear my phone ding on my bed, and quickly wade towards it, scooping it up to look at the message Damien's just sent.

*Yes. I'll be the only one enjoying you.

I decide to mess with him, and hurriedly type out my reply.

*Idk. I'm wearing it now, and I think I might go for a walk. Maybe stop at the store on the way. I'm sure they'd give me something for free.

His reply is almost instantaneous.

*Do I need to leave my meeting now?

A wide smile spreads on my face at the thought of him coming here to fuck me only the way he knows how to.

My phone goes off again.

*Way to make me hard while I have to sit here and listen to Mrs. McCoy drone on about her husbands annoying tendencies.

I enjoy getting him riled up.

*Just think about all the dirty things you're going to do to me tonight.

As I set the phone back down on the bed, I read his reply quickly, and toss my head back laughing.

*I am. I don't think Miss McCoy appreciates it either. I'm cutting our meeting short and heading to you.

I love how insatiable he makes me feel. His desire, his manliness. Every aspect leaves me quivering and hot.

I hurry to the bathroom, fix my hair back from my face, straighten the outfit and head back into the room for my phone.

His most recent text is disappointing.

*Hey, something came up. Have to meet with a client quickly. We're still on for 9.

I swallow the disappointment, and send a reply.

*Yeah. No worries. See ya then.

This is stupid. I shouldn't be disappointed. I'm going to see him tonight. He just gets me going and then doesn't deliver because something gets in the way. I guess its the price to pay being a successful lawyer. That and I feel like we're lacking some connection. Like he's here but faraway.

That'll probably all change tonight.

I know once he has his hands on me at the Club, I'll witness a part of him he's been holding back. 

I'm ready for it.