Stuck-Up Suit - Vi Keeland Page 0,47

time, but the feeling was a premonition of things to come.

***

I WASN’T A HUGE DRINKER, never took drugs. Sex was my only vice. And when I was stressed out, I needed it even more. Like a fiend.

I knew I shouldn’t have been thinking about fucking Soraya on the way to a wake, but I couldn’t help myself. She looked absolutely stunning in that little black dress. She’d done her hair up, even though I knew she didn’t like it that way. She probably felt that she needed to hide the colored tips again. She looked nervous, too. Fuck me, if that rare vulnerability she was exhibiting didn’t make me want to screw her senseless even more. The divider separating us from the driver was completely closed, and that wasn’t helping. The temptation to lift her onto my lap was getting stronger by the minute.

She must have been reading my mind when she said, “You look like you want to attack me, Morgan.”

“Would you lose respect for me if I told you that despite where we’re headed tonight, all I can think about is slipping your panties off and letting you come on my face?”

“I already know you’re a dirty bastard. So, that’s not surprising. But this just might be a new low for you,” she joked.

“Something you’ll figure out about me…when I’m under stress, I get particularly horny. Sex diverts my mind from whatever is bothering me. It’s really the only thing that helps.”

“I see. Are you looking for my help, Mr. Morgan?”

“Don’t call me Mr. Morgan unless you’re going for a submissive vibe, in which case I’ll be more than happy to take you over my knee right now. We could play that game if you want.” My thoughts trailed off as I became mesmerized by her slightly parted lips. “God, I want to fuck your mouth right now.”

She seemed to squirm in her seat. “Do you now?”

“Yes. And go down on you. We can liken it to stress eating.”

She burst into laughter.

“Glad you think it’s funny because I am ten seconds from burying my face underneath that dress.”

“We can’t. We’re going to be at the funeral parlor any minute.”

My voice sounded thick and needy as I slid my hand underneath her dress, caressing her thigh. “Not if we agree to be late.”

“You’re serious?”

Instead of answering her, I picked up the phone to call my driver. “Louis, we’re not quite ready to head to the funeral home. We’d like you to just drive around for a while. Circle back here in about thirty minutes.”

“No problem, Mr. Morgan.”

She bit her lip and shook her head in disbelief at me, and that made my dick swell even harder. I couldn’t go to a wake with a hard on. So, this was an urgent matter anyway.

Soraya’s back was against the leather seat. Sliding the material of her dress up her thighs, I knelt beneath her and spread her knees apart. Slowly removing her lace thong with my teeth, I could feel the wetness on the material against my tongue.

Fuck me. She was drenched.

Her ass writhed under me as I wasted no time moving my tongue in a slow up and down motion over her pussy. I wasn’t just using the tip, but rather the entire length of my tongue to devour her, stopping only long enough to suck on her clit. She’d never been this wet for me. Ever.

Soraya ran her long fingernails through my hair and pulled. My mouth was covered in her arousal as I kept at it before deciding that I couldn’t take it anymore. Sticking my fingers inside of her, I moved them in and out as I looked up into her glazed-over eyes. “I really need to fuck you.”

“Yes. Please…” she muttered.

Oh, I could definitely get used to Soraya Venedetta begging.

Unzipping my trousers, I let them fall halfway down my legs before repositioning her so that she was on top. The leather was cold beneath me. Within seconds, she bore down on my cock, causing my eyes to roll back.

Her dress was riding up her waist, her bare ass exposed as she rode me while I looked up into her eyes. The feel of sinking into her had been just as incredible as I imagined it would be. I couldn’t help pulling out the pins in her hair, undoing her updo, watching the tresses fall as she fucked me. Just like the night of the gala, she didn’t protest; I knew she didn’t want it up anyway.

The