To my immense relief.
I’m dying to see exactly what he’s got in store for me, and I’m not shy about looking.
I get my chance when he straightens and, turning, extracts a condom before tossing his wallet onto the nightstand. His ass? Stellar. His thighs? Powerful. As for his jutting dick, it’s long, thick and ruddy as it emerges from a neat thatch of his sandy hair, with a perfect plum of a head. Everything a lucky woman like me could want. I can’t wait to feel it inside me, and he can’t wait to give it to me. Not if the speed with which he gets that condom on is any indication.
Finally he’s ready. We reach for my lacy lavender bikinis together, and I wiggle my way out of them. He pitches them off the side of the bed and starts to join me before getting distracted by the sight of my bare pussy. He lets out a serrated breath and shakes his head as he swiftly looks me up and down, giving me the feeling that he thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world.
God knows I’m the luckiest woman.
Since this type of delay is not okay with me, I start to reach for him. He has other ideas. Shooting a dark look of intent up the length of my body, the trails his fingertips over my torso and takes care to dip them into my belly button, making my hips spasm. Then he lowers his head and gives me a single lingering nuzzle of a kiss that somehow manages to spark every nerve ending in my body. My back arches while the world dims around me and I try to drag some air into my lungs.
But there’s no time for more kisses down below.
He stretches out on top of me, staring me in the face as he settles his weight on his elbows. He’s heavy. Thrilling. The exquisite sensation of all this skin-to-skin contact overwhelms me and empties my lungs of that last little bit of air, making me gasp. I drag my hands across those rippling shoulders and up into his hair, savoring the feel of him. It belatedly occurs to me that I’m still wearing my stupid strapless bra, and I reach between us, trying to unclasp it. He’s right there with me, yanking it off and pausing to rub his palms across my nipples. Some crazy hissing sound of encouragement darts past my lips, and he’s only too happy to oblige, working me into a frenzy.
I shift beneath him, getting my hips into place beneath the hard length of his dick. In case he still isn’t getting the picture, I cock them and wrap one of my legs around his thigh.
Message received.
He eases up just enough to reach between us and take himself in hand before stoking that sizable head against my slick cleft. I don’t see how I could possibly be any hotter or wetter for him, but I guess he wants to make sure I’m ready.
I’m here to tell you: I’m ready.
He enters me in a single driving thrust. I cry out, shocked by the intensity of the friction between us. So is he, evidently. We stare at each other for one arrested second, our mouths open while we try to get used to each other and my body eases to accommodate him. He keeps his hips locked, waiting for a signal from me.
I give it to him in the form of a faint smile as I scratch my nails up his back and let my eyes roll closed.
That’s all he needs. He begins to move with long and rhythmic strokes that are naturally placed to hit my sweet spot. Every. Single. Time. We fit together perfectly, me arching beneath him and wrapping my legs around his waist as the pleasure spirals lower inside me and concentrates between my thighs. Swear to God, I could live and die like this. I don’t need food, water or anything else. Just the magic of our bodies twined together.
I want to savor this moment until our hips give out, but he kisses me again, putting a quick end to that plan. The lush sweep of his tongue into my mouth is more than I can take. My body reaches its tipping point, and the orgasm roars over me and pours out of me on a single high note of astonishment. I stiffen, waiting for the pleasure to wring me dry while he strokes my thigh and murmurs something I can’t quite catch.
He goes very still, making me hesitant to open my eyes because I know he’s watching me. Worse, I know I’m wearing that sultry glow of a woman who’s just had her brains fucked out by a man who now possesses ownership of her body. But I don’t even care. I need to see him.
So I flick my heavy lids open and discover him right there, his gaze steady and his eyes purest blue flame. Wonder of wonders, a sensual smile even curves his delicious lips before he dips his head for another kiss.
But then he picks up his rhythm again.
By now we’re sweaty. Animalistic. Each of his pumps sends a zing of electricity through my belly and makes me gasp and/or groan. His noises are guttural as he works toward his release. Unabashed. He plants his hands on my head and pulls my hair in his frenzy. Thrusts his tongue deeper into my mouth. Smacks my thigh. Grips my ass. Finally calls out my name and goes rigid as he presses his face into the hollow between my neck and shoulder, shuddering against me.
And shuddering and shuddering and shuddering.
I laugh, triumphant and undone.
When it’s over, he shifts us both to one side, preventing me from being crushed by his weight without pulling out. One of those floating blackout moments follows for God knows how long. I come out of it slowly, spurred by his gentle fingers as they swirl up and down my side, across the swell of my breast and around the edge of my pebbled nipple where it presses against his chest.
Once again, I open my eyes to discover him watching me, unblinking. Both our heads are on the same pillow. His expression is open. Relaxed. There’s no sign of the Beast or the real estate titan in his dark power suit.
Only a man capable of surprising tenderness as he smooths my hair away from my temple and tucks it behind my ear.
I wonder if he ever thought of me as anything other than his intrepid assistant before tonight. I wonder what he thinks of me now and whether he wishes we could have more time together. Most of all, I wonder how I can go back to work on Monday as if none of this ever happened.
But those are questions for another time.
If dying while he’s fucking me is my number one option, meeting my maker like this is a close second. I could study his face all day and never get bored. I want to know all his secrets. I want to see him smile. I want a million more nights with him, exactly like this.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m no fool. I know that every woman who shares his bed (and there are a lot of them) probably ends up feeling exactly this same way. I know there are a lot of women receiving a lot of don’t-let-the-door-hit-you-on-the-ass-on-your-way-out bouquets of flowers. I know both that I’ve just added myself to their ranks and that he’ll disappear before the sun comes up. I know that tonight is all I’ll ever have of him.
That being the case, I plan to make tonight count.
So I roll over, pushing him to his back as I straddle him. Note the way his eyes widen, and he stares up at me with rapt attention. Lean down for a nipping little kiss that he returns with interest and start working on round two.
5
Bellamy
Monday morning seems to come earlier than usual, or maybe it’s just that I’m completely unprepared to see Griffin again. I hit the Midtown office at six forty-five, a time when only the first few bleary-eyed folks have begun to trickle in, determined to get settled with my game face firmly hitched over my ears before he arrives after his breakfast meeting. Hopefully around seven thirty rather than his usual seven.
As always, I’ve got a million things to do before he arrives and intend to start with the most crucial: by heading down to the kitchen so I can grab my first cup of coffee. So it’s with some annoyance that I feel my phone buzz in the blazer pocket of my sensible but still kinda sexy peach suit.