Sinful Rewards 1 by Cynthia Sax

but they can’t. They can only watch. You’re mine.”
    â€œForever?” I ask breathlessly.
    â€œForever.” He covers the taut peak with his mouth and sucks. I scream, lifting off the seat, my mind splintering into a thousand pieces, my soul engulfed in flames. He’s relentless, his grip on me tight and unforgiving. I writhe under him, clasping his head, his hair too short to find a handhold in as I struggle to escape, the pleasure too much, too delicious. He doesn’t release me. He’ll never release me. I’m his, no longer alone, forever claimed by my billionaire.
    I still, my heartbeat slowing once more. The crepe de chine fabric of my dress slides over my legs, a soft, endless caress. The scent of leather and engine grease and hot, aroused man fills my nostrils. The audience at the window remains. Some of the men I recognize from college, the bus, other places. Many of the men are strangers.
    I blindly caress Nicolas’s back, exploring the dip near his spine, the bulge of his muscles, the lifted ridges I suspect are scars. He laves and nibbles on my left breast, building my passion once more, and I undulate, stroking him with my body, wishing I could gaze at him yet not wanting to disappoint him. “Can I—”
    â€œNo,” Nicolas growls, denying my request before I can state it. His voice is deep, not his own. His heavy form lifts from mine, cool air rushing between us. Fabric rustles. “Pull your skirt up. I want to look at you.”
    I hesitate. I’m bare under my skirt. He’ll see all of me, my closely cropped brown curls, my pink pussy lips, the moisture on my thighs.
    â€œBelinda.”
    My spine snaps straight, the authority in Nicolas’s voice allowing no refusal. I lift the hem of my dress to my waist and wait. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t touch me. Feeling his gaze on my naked flesh, I squirm with embarrassment.
    â€œI was wrong about you, wasn’t I?” Nicolas cups my mons and I jerk, surprised, aroused. “You’re not a good girl. No good girl is this wet.”
    â€œI’m not a good girl,” I whisper, ashamed. A good girl wouldn’t be as needy, as turned on as I am. She wouldn’t want to be watched, touched, sucked. I know this. I’ve always known this. In the past, I’ve been more controlled in bed, hiding my perversions, sacrificing my sexual satisfaction to gain respect. This was easy to do with the men . . . the boys I dated. They didn’t expect, didn’t push me for more.
    â€œYou don’t deserve forever, do you?” Nicolas spreads my legs wider, his grip forceful, his rough handling making my pussy twitch with delight. “Kinky little perverts like you get one-night stands, not wedding rings.” He presses against me, his firm flesh probing my entrance.
    His hard, bare flesh. “Condom,” I gasp, not daring to look at him, hoping my obedience will sooth his anger, prove my worth.
    â€œYou don’t want me to wear a condom.” Nicolas pushes into me. He’s large, so damn large, stretching me to the point of pain. I whimper, tilting my hips to ease the delectable tightness.
    â€œThat’s safe, and naughty girls don’t play it safe.” He sinks deeper, his cock head sliding farther and farther into me.
    â€œYou want to be fucked hard and fast.” Nicolas thrusts, burying himself to his base, and I cry out, clinging to his shoulders, filled as I’ve never been filled before. I feel everything, the bloom of his tip, the veins on his shaft, the coarse hair tickling my feminine folds.
    â€œLook at the men,” he growls, pulling out to his cock head. “They’re watching as I fuck you.” He drives back into me and I gasp, my body humming with need. “They’ll watch as I fill you with my cum and then walk away.” Nicolas pulls out, drives into me, escalating my desire. “Is this what you want to be? A