Broken Rules 4: Landon
“Normally women just comment on the colour of the paint or the interior material,” I raise an eyebrow, “it’s kind of hot that you know about my car.” I glance forward, aware that Henry can hear us. He’s very discreet but I don’t want to give him a show otherwise I’d take her right here in the back of my car. In fact the idea is so tempting that I think I might have to take her for a private drive sometime. I catch the thought and frown; that would mean breaking a rule. Never see the same woman twice. I find myself looking for a loophole, perhaps if I spend the day with her tomorrow it won’t count.
I shake my head slightly, because that would mean breaking another rule; no sleepovers. What is she doing to me? I’ve only spent a few hours with her and yet she’s managed to get underneath my skin enough to make me want to break the rules, something I never do. She’s quiet, looking out the window. I wonder if she’s nervous. Based on what she’s told me, I imagine she’s never had a one night stand before. That must be one of those rules that she’s so desperate to break. I want to touch her; take her hand or something but I know that I won’t be satisfied with a simple touch of her hand and I can’t do more until we get out of this bloody car and away from poor Henry. I settle for putting my hands in my lap. I will just have to wait. I watch her as she stares out the window at the city lights. When Henry opens my door, I guide Aurora out of the car and can’t help but admire her. She really is exquisite. Most women begin to look a little rough around the edges after spending an evening in a nightclub. Their make-up rubs off and they begin to look tired. Her make-up is beginning to come away but what it’s revealing is anything but tired. She looks exhilarated, as if she’s climbing a mountain and she’s about to reach the peak. I imagine she’d look just as beautiful in hiking boots as she does in those heels. “I’ll just park the car sir. Will you be needing anything else tonight, Mr Peters?”
I barely glance at him, “No thank you Henry.” I have everything I could possibly need right here. Fuck I want her. I pull her into the lift; I’m growing impatient. I want her now. I kiss her in the elevator; I touch every inch of her skin that I can reach but it’s not enough. I want more. I’m unwilling to waste a second, because if I keep my rules I don’t have long. I need to make the most of this whilst it lasts. “So which of your rules are we going to break tonight?” I growl and secretly I’m hoping she asks me to fuck her right here against the wall of the lift.
I pull down the zip of her jeans and even though I can tell she’s scared she doesn’t stop me. I’m grateful for that small detail. I need to touch her. Her eyes dart to the doors but I don’t care if we get caught. In fact the idea of getting caught makes the whole situation all the hotter. Although I know that it’s unlikely we’ll come across anyone at this time of night. She’s wet. “You’re wet.”
She surprises me. I expect her to blush. I want her to blush but I’m delighted by her response, “I want you.” It’s a raw, honest truth that she fearlessly shares with me.
“I want you too,” I’m not lying. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want her right now, “tell me what you want?”
“You,” I lick my finger whilst she watches, hoping to get a reaction. I want to have her delirious with desire by the time I get her into my bed.
“God you taste good. I want to get you out of these jeans so I can taste you properly.”
I lead her out of the lift when the doors open. I notice that she is focused on one of my mother’s paintings as I lead her through the foyer. I want to tell her about them, but that would be against the rules. I can’t resist when I see which one has caught her interest, “beautiful isn’t it? It’s my favourite.”
“It’s incredible. Do you know the artist?” She looks like she wants to reach out and touch it. For some reason it pleases me that she likes it.
“My mother,” I hear the pride in my voice but I wonder if she will hear it too, “all of them, they are all hers.” I used to love watching my mother paint as a child. She even tried to teach me but I would always compare my pictures with her masterpieces and be sorely disappointed in them. Mother wasn’t though. She used to cover the fridge, the walls, the doors, any available surface with my pictures. She said they were the most beautiful pieces of art she had ever seen. She told me they were like treasure to her because an artist always puts a bit of their soul into their work and therefore those pictures held a part of me. It’s the same reason my foyer is full of her work; I treasure her soul. I don’t tell Aurora that though. I might have willingly broken a few rules tonight but that would be too much.
When we enter my apartment, I give her a few minutes to adjust to it. Most women need a moment or two to get past the extravagance of the place. They really are like magpies, most of them, craving expensive gifts and shiny pieces of jewellery and when they see my home they realise that I have the means to give them what they crave. She makes jokes about just how extravagant it is and I can’t help but laugh. It’s nice to not feel like she’s seeing pound notes all around her. “You like it?” I ask, for some reason her opinion matters.
“Yeah,” she nods, I’m unconvinced by her answer but I don’t question it. Her opinion shouldn’t be important. I pull her towards the sofa.
I offer her a drink, asking if she wants anything but she shakes her head, “only you.”
Her answer is pure heaven to my ears.
“Good answer,” I sit and pull her into my lap. I kiss her again because I don’t think I ever want to stop and I start to take off her clothes. Her heart is racing; I can feel it as I remove her bra. She blushes again. Fuck. That blush is hot. I suck on her nipple and when she moans I barely hold in a groan as the sound goes straight to my cock. She pushes against me, pulling me closer. I want more and from what I can see she does too.
“Please,” she whimpers.
“Please what?” I ask.
“Please...” she’s breathing harshly, “I want you.”
I lick my lips because I can still taste her there and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of the way she tastes. She starts to undo my shirt buttons and the feel of her lips on my skin is agonising. She flings my shirt away, as if the idea of me wearing clothes is offensive to her. I chuckle and get to my feet, lifting her into my arms. I want her in my bed now. I’ve never been particularly patient and right now is no exception. I carry her across the room and down the hall until I reach my bedroom. I drop her onto the bed before pulling down her jeans and then her knickers.
I step back, giving myself a moment. I need to regain some control. I want this to last. I want to keep her here for as long as I can. “What are you doing?” she asks tentatively.
“Just admiring the view,” I smirk. I have to taste her again so I fall to my knees and pull her legs apart so that I can get close enough to savour the taste of her pussy. I feel her walls clamp around my tongue and I hear her moans get louder and louder until she arches her back before falling back down against the bed, “tell me when we break a rule,” I tease her as I lick my lips. I’m intrigued by her rules. I wonder how many she’s broken tonight. I wonder how many I’ve helped her break. I determine that I’ll find out before the night ends. I want a number; preferably in double digits.
She bites her lip and I imagine her lips wrapped around my dick and as tempting as that picture is, there is one thing I want more. I want to be inside her. I take off my trousers and boxers as calmly as I can; desperately keeping my grasp of the little control I have left. I kiss her lightly as I take a condom out of the bedside cabinet. It hurts to put the condom on. I’m so hard even the gentlest touch is almost too much. I hiss as the condom slides over my hardness. “God, you’re incredible. I’m so hard... it fucking hurts, that’s how hard you’ve made me.” I enter her slowly. She’s tighter than I expected. She’s tighter than any of the other women I’ve had and it’s exquisite. I can feel her all around me, teasing me; it’s never felt like this before. “Shit you’re tight,” I tell her.
I’m sure I must be hurting her. I’m not small. I try to control myself, try to give her time to adjust to my size, but she’s just too tempting and it feels too good. I’m soon moving again, fast. I need her. I’m not sure I’ll ever get my fill of her. But I’m going to try my best tonight. I need to get my fill of her tonight. The rules are forcing my hand. That thought makes me frown momentarily. Even though she’s just had an orgasm, I feel her body prepare for a second. She moans and it’s the most incredible sound I’ve ever heard. “Fuck. I want you to come for me, baby.” I can’t let go until she comes and my control is waning. “Come for me, baby,” my words seem to be the permission she needs and she falls off the cliff, into a bottomless pit of pleasure. I find my own pleasure in her before collapsing on top of her, trying to catch my breath.
I’m sleepy but I’ve yet to have my fill and I’m aware that I don’t have much time left before I have to say goodbye to her. More so than ever before the rules are there at the back of my head. It’s strange because normally there’s no thought process that accompanies the rules. It’s just an automatic reflex. I don’t break the rules; it’s just not done. I roll over so that I’m lying next to her. “Do you still want to break some rules?” I ask the first thing that comes to my mind, because if I’m going to keep my own rules I have to make the most of what I have right now and I need an excuse to keep her here in my bed. It can’t last, even though I want it too.
She looks unsure, “I’ve already broken quite a few tonight...” and for a second I’m scared she’s going to leave, and although I know it is inevitable, the thought is crushing. “What did you have in mind?”
“Have you ever been tied up?” I ask, “I imagine that would definitely be against your parents rules.” Although if I’m honest I have no idea what sort of rules her parents have imposed upon her.
“Definitely,” she laughs, “my parents are very traditional.”
“So what do you say?” I’m silently praying to whatever god is listening that she doesn’t leave.
I wait for her answer, barely breathing. I’m not ready for her to go home, “Okay.” It’s everything; that one word.
I tie her to my bed and the sight of her there is perhaps the most sensual thing I’ve ever seen. I take her again but this time it’s different. It’s something more. I’m holding her hand in my own as I bury myself inside her. I look into her eyes as I fuck her. “God, you’re perfect,” I tell her and I’ve never been more honest.
She doesn’t blush because she’s already flushed. There’s a sheen of sweat across her brow and I kiss her on her temple. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how long I last, but it isn’t long before I lose myself in her. I pull out of her. She winces and I wonder if I was too rough. I pull off the condom and chuck it into the bin before leaning over her to undo my tie. There are faint red marks on her wrists. I kiss them as if it will erase them but secretly I’m proud, proud to have marked her. Some primal part of me feels as if I’ve claimed her now. She’s mine. That part of me is angry at me; he doesn’t want to give her up. Not tonight. Not tomorrow morning. Not ever.
Her eyes are closed and I watch her as she drifts off to sleep. Normally I wouldn’t allow it. I know I shouldn’t allow it now. Women aren’t allowed to stay the night, but something about her makes me want to bend the rules. Hell it makes me want to break them not just bend them. For her I can imagine myself throwing away the metaphorical rule book and that thought scares me, if I’m honest. I’m watching her again. I’m fascinated by her. She’s asleep and bizarrely enough I’m still just as captivated as I was when she was awake. If she’s all fire and passion when she comes, she’s peace and radiant joy in her sleep and I can’t decide which is more beautiful. She’s breathing gently, perfectly comfortable in my bed. I decide to let her nap. What would twenty minutes do? That’s hardly against the rules at all. My eyes are drooping and I allow them to close for a moment or two. I’ll just give myself a moment or two of rest before I wake her and send her away. The thought upsets me; disappoints me. I try to put it from my mind.
I wake uncharacteristically late the next morning. I feel warmth against my chest and instinctively I pull it closer. I can smell something exotic and enticing, I breathe it in. I open my eyes to glance at the alarm clock, surprised to see it’s past nine. That’s when I notice that there is a girl in my arms. I recognise her instantly; Aurora. Fuck – I let her stay. I feel a sense of dread at the idea that she will now expect more. Accompanying that dread is the fear that perhaps she won’t expect anything. I’m not sure which idea is worse. My phone rings and I am glad to have something to distract me from my thoughts. I answer it as I climb out of bed, taking care not to wake her, “Landon Peters,” I answer.
“Mr Peters,” it’s my assistant Lisa, “your father called this morning. He says he’s in town tonight and would like to see you. Would you like me to make dinner reservations?”
“Please,” I reply as I make my way into the living room.
“Do you have a preference on restaurants, sir?”
“Jarrod’s,” I answer before hanging up when I notice Aurora stood in front of me. She’s wearing one of my shirts and it definitely looks better on her than it does on me. I feel the same electricity between us that I felt last night. I still want her. I’ve not had enough. Shit; that’s not good. “Sorry if I woke you,” I say to her. I’m completely out of my comfort zone. “Can I get you anything? Breakfast?”
“Erm...” I’m half pleased; half disappointed to find that she’s feeling just as awkward as I am right now. I’m scared to think that she might leave and so I find myself thinking up ways to make her stay even though it’s against the rules. I stride across the room until I can pull her into my arms and kiss her.
She’s soft in my arms as she wraps her arms around my neck. “Let’s have a shower,” It’s not a question, it’s a demand. I’m not letting her leave until I’ve taken what I want from her. I pick her up and carry her through to my bathroom. I place her down on the stone floor, “I like you in my clothes,” I tell her as I expose her body from beneath my shirt before stepping into the shower taking her with me. Her skin is a milky white. It’s soft and smooth under my fingers. “You’re perfect,” I tell her.
She frowns, shaking her head before telling me that I am wrong. I’m surprised by the ferment irritation in her tone. I massage shampoo into her hair, trying to distract her from the offense I’ve caused her with that tiny word. She offers to do it herself but I don’t let her, “let me take care of you.”
When I’ve finished with her hair, she gives me a mischievous look and I give her a challenging look of my own as I try to work out what she has planned. She surprises me when she gets down on her knees and takes my penis into her hand. She looks intently into my eyes as she rubs it back and forth. Her eyes never leave mine, not when she licks the tip, or when she licks along the underside, or when she sucks it into her mouth. The warmth of her mouth is intoxicating. I grab the back of her head but force myself not to take control. I don’t want to scare her and it’s clear this is new to her. She tentatively moves her head developing a rhythm. “Fuck,” I cry out, “that’s it baby. Do that again.”
She keeps going until she brings me to the edge. I manage to hiss out a warning, “I’m going to come.” But she doesn’t pull away, she just keeps rubbing my balls with her hand and using her mouth on my dick and soon she’s swallowing everything I give her. I help her back up to her feet and I can’t resist asking the question that’s at the forefront of my mind, “was that against the rules?”
She laughs shyly, my previous indiscretion forgotten, “Almost everything we’ve done was against the rules.”
“I think I want to hear more about these rules. Let’s go out for breakfast,” I pull her out of the shower and wrap her up in a white fluffy towel. “Get dressed,” I know I’m being demanding but I can’t help myself, “do you have everything you need?”
She nods, blushing at something I’ve missed. It’s a sight for sore eyes. I walk her back through my dressing room and back into my bedroom. I leave her in there to give her some privacy. I head back into my dressing room and take a quick glance around. It’s funny really; everything in my bedroom suite was designed for two. Two sinks in the bathroom. Two walk in closets in the dressing room. Hell there were even two toilet cubicles in the bathroom. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought of before. Usually I relished in the extra space. I pull on a pair of jeans and a green jumper. I take longer than I normally would to ensure that she has the privacy she needs. When I return to the bedroom, she’s sat on the bed in her clothes from last night, “will you be warm enough?” I ask but before she has a chance to answer, I return to my closet to get her a cobalt blue jumper. It matches her shoes.
“Thank you,” she says as I hand it to her.
“You’re welcome. I like you in my clothes.” It’s that primal desire to claim her again. It’s something I’ve never known with anyone else and all the claims I’ve made on her so far; the marks on her wrists, the way that I fucked her last night and this morning; none of it is enough. I need to possess her in a way that is completely new to me. She’s supposed to be mine and a part of me has known it since I’d first seen her in the bar. Another part of me feels like it’s known it longer than that, if that’s possible.