Hot in the City 2: Sin City (2 page)

“
How
big?”

He laughed amid their heat. “Is this your way of telling me size really does matter?”

She let out her own giggle in return. “Well…” The truth was—she’d been with enough men to know a slightly smaller tool could do the job when well used, but she truly did prefer a cock that was on the larger side of the scale.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll take the pressure off. You’d like my size—you’d like it just fine.”

“Confident,” she teased, still moving her fingers, in circles now, over her needy clit.

“I’ve never actually gotten out a ruler or anything,” he chuckled, “but I think around…nine would be an accurate measurement.”

“Mmm, nice,” she said, doubting him just a little, but deciding not to ruin the moment by expressing it. Much better to stick to the fun stuff. “Is there come on the tip?”

“Yeah.”

Oh, she was bad—so, so bad. “I wish I was there to lick it off for you.”

“Oh God, baby,” he groaned. “Much more of that and I’ll lose it.”

“Do you
want
more?”

His rich laughter sounded over the phone line, even if it was coming a bit more shakily than usual. “How can I say no?”

“Well, if I were there, I’d kneel between your legs and lick the pre-come off the tip of your big, hot cock, and then I’d slide my lips down, way down, putting as much of you in my mouth as I could, and then I’d suck you so, so good, baby.”

He groaned deeply and she wondered if he was about to come, but then he said, “Are you still playing with that naked pussy? That pussy that I’d give my right arm to see right now?”

“Uh-huh,” she breathed. She touched herself gingerly, trying to control the arousal, not wanting to come until he did.

“I want to lick you so bad, sweetheart.”

She leaned her head back, let out a little moan. “I want that, too.”

“I want to run my tongue over your clit until you come, and then I want to ram this big cock inside your tight little hole.”

Diana gasped, rubbing her clit a little harder. She wouldn’t be able to take much more. “God, I want you to,” she said, breath ragged, voice urgent. “I want you to fuck me so hard. I want to feel your cock pounding deep in my pussy, deep, deep, deep in my cunt.”

“Oh, baby, yeah.”

“Deeper and deeper,” she repeated. “Deep in my hot wet pussy. Deep inside me. Deep. Deep.” Oh. Oh. It was coming—any second now, beyond her to stop it.

“Oh…” he moaned. “Oh God, here I come.”

Marc let out a ferocious moan over the phone just as Diana’s orgasm broke—hard and furious and all-consuming for a few long, hot seconds of pulsing pleasure. Wave after wave rocked her cunt, seeming to echo outward through her limbs.

When the waves stilled, all was silent until she whispered, “Mmm, yes.”

“That was…that was so good, sweetheart,” Marc said, sounding just as spent as she felt.

“Yeah.” Her voice emerged weak, quiet.

They both went silent for a moment, until he asked, “Regrets?”

She wanted to feel guilty, if for no other reason than because she’d broken her own vow, her promise to herself to be good from now on. But all she felt was the thick, warm pleasure of being bad. “No.”

“Good.” His voice came tender and sweet. “I’d hate it if I thought I’d taken you somewhere you didn’t want to go. I mean, I know you’re seeing that guy…”

He sounded sorry to have remembered, and she was sorry to be reminded. “Bradley,” she said dully. “But don’t worry. I enjoyed this too much to be sorry.”

When he said, “Good,” this time, he sounded more lighthearted, and she could tell he was ready to resume their usual teasing flirtation. “By the way, I think if we had cell phones with pictures, I’d have talked you into showing me more than just your pajamas by now.”

Chapter One

A week later, Diana was still thinking about her phone call with Marc.

She thought about it when she got dressed every morning, concealing her tingling breasts and crotch in a matching bra and panty set from Adrianna, Inc., then putting on a suit and remembering that professional women got him hot.

She thought about it when she lay down at night, reliving their dirty talk on the phone until she couldn’t resist reliving another part of it, too—slipping her hand in her panties and rubbing her clit until she reached those few blessed seconds of ecstasy.

And she thought about it at every moment in between.

As she walked up Pratt Street toward her office in Baltimore’s business district, a breeze from the nearby harbor lifted her hair and rushed up beneath her narrow skirt, seeming to skim coolly across the lacy crimson thong she’d chosen to wear that day. Her cunt responded, turning predictably tickly and warm. A small smile unfurled across her face, all the more sweet since none of the other suits passing her on the sidewalk knew why she was so happy.

She’d always been a very sexual person—but her phone call with Marc had seemed to renew something inside her, given her just the sort of thrill that had been missing from her life lately. By her choice, of course.
Good girl, good girl
, she whispered inside,
gotta be a good girl
. She clenched her pussy muscles tight as she walked, thinking it would quell the tingling sensations, but instead it only intensified them. Which took her thoughts right back to Marc. How he’d asked her to touch herself for him. How badly he’d wanted to see her bare, smooth cunt.

After they’d both come, they’d talked a while longer and she’d suggested that while at work they not mention what they’d just shared. She’d feared it would be awkward—they were required to talk to each other so frequently. And also because she didn’t want to be reminded that she’d been so bad. That she’d
enjoyed
being so bad. That she only wished she could
keep
being that bad.

But once and for all, she had to put those days behind her, no matter how many breezes made her crotch tickle, no matter how tempting it was to ask Marc to call her at home again some night and get her off that same way.

Diana had been a bad girl all her life, and her wild ways had put her parents through a lot of worry and disappointment. She’d lost her virginity, very willingly, at fifteen, in her bedroom, to a college boy from their neighborhood who’d come home for the summer looking as hot as fireworks on the Fourth of July—and her mother had walked in just as they were finishing round two. For the following three years, she’d sneaked out of the house constantly—a necessity when she was grounded—and she’d experimented with more than a few boys in the backseats of their cars. If she was dating a guy, sex just seemed to be a natural progression. She’d never worried about what anyone thought and nothing about her actions had ever felt wrong to her. From puberty on, she’d simply yearned for sex so deeply that she couldn’t deny herself the pleasure when it was offered.

Add to that being caught drinking on a number of occasions, and once even being hauled to jail with a group of kids caught with alcohol at an unchaperoned party—not to mention a thousand other little conflicts over too much makeup and skirts that were too short—and Diana knew she’d been a lot to handle.

Now her older sister Liz had broken up her picture-perfect engagement and hooked up with some sexy French Quarter private-eye guy, and though Diana was very happy to see her sister finally come out of her conservative shell and find happiness with a total hunk, she also felt somehow responsible for filling her spot.

Of course, her baby sister, Carrie was engaged to a nice guy the whole family liked, but Carrie and Jon had been engaged for so long that she knew her parents were beginning to fear
none
of their daughters would ever make them happy. At twenty-eight, Diana felt obliged to pick up the slack, to be the one who didn’t give them grief for once in her life.

The truth was, she admitted to herself as she pushed through the revolving door of the high-rise building that housed Adrianna, Inc.’s Baltimore offices, she wanted their approval.

She wasn’t a bad person—in fact, she thought she was a pretty
nice
person. She tried to treat other people with fairness and consideration, she gave money and even some of her time to a few charities of her choice, and she was the sort of person who stopped to help injured animals on the side of the road. Yet she didn’t know if her parents really
knew
she was a good person, and she wanted them to know. She knew they loved her, but she’d reached a point in her adult life where she also wanted them to simply
like
her, too.

And things were finally going pretty well in that arena.

Last year, she’d gotten her job at Adrianna, a well-paying and respectable position—she used her marketing degree to organize East Coast marketing efforts and she also traveled considerably for the company, ensuring that new boutiques were set up to market their wares in the most effective way. Her parents were proud of her for working hard and making a good career for herself.

With that had come the means to buy a lovely restored row house in the trendy, historic Federal Hill area, within walking distance of her office. Her mother had raved over the condo and she’d heard her dad, on more than one occasion, tell a friend or neighbor what a great place she had.

And finally, there was Bradley—the nice man her mother had fixed her up with nearly four months ago. She sighed as the elevator took her toward the 15
^th
floor, all signs of her arousal disappearing as thoughts of her so-called boyfriend entered her head. Bradley was tall and blond and handsome, he worked as a systems analyst for a large, successful company in the suburbs—and he was such a damn gentleman that he had yet to lay a hand on her.

Well, he’d put his arm around her on occasion, and he’d kissed her—pleasant yet sadly spark-free kisses goodnight at the door—but to Diana, a woman who loved pleasure and craved sex, his soft kisses seemed like next to nothing.

She knew Bradley needed a sweet, chaste woman in his life who could appreciate his love of fine wine, his culinary skills, his gentle and respectful manner—and she was trying very hard to
be
that woman, just hoping that whenever they finally got around to fucking he’d be an animal.

She’d even tried to seduce him several times, until he’d eventually explained that he thought it was better to wait, to let their relationship grow, so that when they finally made love, it would be important and meaningful. Diana loved important, meaningful sex as much as the next girl, but she also loved getting-to-know-you sex and we’re-attracted-to-each-other-and-I-want-you sex, too.

Of course, if Bradley had succumbed to her attempts at seduction, it would only have been getting-to-know-you sex, not we’re-attracted-to-each-other sex, because as it stood, she simply didn’t feel that hot, fun, wild sort of chemistry that sometimes made it so hard for her to keep her hands off a guy.

But she’d also known men with whom attraction really had changed and grown over time, and given how perfect Bradley was in so many ways, and how happy her parents had been since they’d been dating, she was sticking with him, convinced she’d become more enamored with him as time passed. She could be a good little wife who knew how to “make love” to her man, and how to be content and happy with one guy for the rest of her life. Women the world over succeeded at this—so could she.

Still and all, when wind blew up her skirt and made her pussy tingle, it took her a minute to remember that she probably shouldn’t revel so heedlessly in the sensation if she actually expected to be the good girl her family made her want to be. And although she’d let herself off the guilt hook regarding her oh-so-naughty phone conversation with Marc—deciding it was only a slip-up because she was frustrated from no sex—her new habit of thinking about him all day and masturbating at night with him in mind simply had to stop. As did the fact that her panties got wet every time she talked to him now. Her desires were out of her control, but she simply had to ignore them and hope they would go away over time, like finally breaking a bad habit.

Of course, it was a hard thing to
truly
hope for, because it felt so delicious and good and naughty, but she still tried.

After all, she was here, and Marc was far away, in Las Vegas.

And she would probably marry Bradley one of these days and make everyone very happy.

Except maybe you
, a voice whispered inside her as she made her way to the office break room to pour her morning coffee. She needed to ignore that, too.

Diana slid behind the desk in her small office, ready to get her mind off her worries—and Marc—and onto Adrianna, Inc. Mock-ups for the print ads publicizing the new Atlanta and Miami boutiques were due in a few days and needed her close attention. As did a hundred little details that should keep her good and busy all day.

“Ouch, girlfriend, look at that cleavage.”

Diana’s office friend, Shyla, appeared in her doorway. A beautiful woman with skin the color of café au lait, she wore a striking suit of orange—a shade only Shyla could pull off. Shyla had shown Diana around the office on her first day and they’d become fast friends. Shyla was always quick to notice things like cleavage or short skirts or sexy shoes, and she was always very free about touching, so much so that Diana sometimes wondered if Shyla might be bisexual. Diana wasn’t into that scene, so if Shyla ever made a move on her, she’d have to turn her down in such a way that they could remain friends. But even if she wasn’t into other girls, Diana never minded hearing she looked hot.