by Max Monroe
Finally, her eyes met mine, and she licked her lips as she shoved her hands into the waistband of my boxer briefs, sliding them down with her palms flat against my skin the whole way.
Fuckkkk. Me.
“Mmm,” she hummed in anticipation, leaning forward and taking the whole head in her mouth. Just like that. Right in her fucking mouth.
Gun to my head, that moment, my cock would have been known as The Grinch. Because that fucker up and swelled to twice its size in the matter of a heartbeat.
“Good God,” I breathed, my neck craning back in ecstasy.
She hummed at that, the vibration in her throat coating my skin along with the wet and warmth. I put my hands on the counter to stop from gripping her hair.
This ride was hers, and I was merely a passenger. So many times, women play to what they think a man wants, defaulting to him rather than owning their ability.
I’ll let you in on the fucking secret—absolutely nothing I could ask her to do would be as good as letting her surprise me.
She slid her mouth down as far as it would go and back, leaving a coat of moisture behind. The chilled air tingled the skin she unsheathed and shot straight to my tightening balls.
Her hand must have sensed it or something, shooting out to cup them at the perfect pressure, just between timid and crushing, rolling each of them between her fingers like a goddamn sac expert.
My legs started to shake, but I fought it, scared she’d stop to ask if I was okay or if I needed to change positions.
A swirl of her tongue at the tip later, she took me inside again, pushing the flat of her tongue against the underside and tapping it in a rapid rhythm. Up and down she worked me, adding her free hand at the base and mesmerizing me with a frenzy-inducing twist.
My mind raced and blanked at once, knowing the cum was coming and working overtime to find the faculties to actually tell her.
“Baby,” I groaned, finally letting my hand shoot out to grip her hair. I pulled it up with a jerk, but took care not to be too rough or startle her.
Her eyes fucking destroyed me when they met mine, eating me alive with the same intensity as her mouth. She was swallowing my fucking dick like it was her last meal and she’d had a goddamn choice of the whole menu.
I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Oh shit. Oh fuck. I’m gonna come. Ahhh, God.”
She sucked harder instead of letting go, pushing me to get there faster with a strum of her fingers at my balls.
I didn’t think I usually came that fast, but the surprise had everything fucked. My stamina, my mind—my ability to form complete sentences. Gone.
When the last jerk subsided, she soothed me with her tongue, sliding her loose hand up and down the shaft slowly.
“Mmm,” she moaned again, nearly knocking me on my ass. “You taste good too.”
I would never, ever be able to look at this woman without remembering this moment. Not for my entire life. I was fucking sure of it.
I was equally sure, as one of her greatest fears centered around being able to maintain a professional relationship with me in a work environment, she would not want to hear that.
She got to her feet slowly, but I sped up the process, grabbing her by the hips and slamming her naked body directly into mine. My slowly softening cock rested between our bellies, and my lips sought hers.
I fought the primal urge to eat her alive, though, teasing her tongue with mine in a sweet dance of thank-you instead.
I wanted her to feel cherished and fucking appreciated. Her bottom lip swelled in my mouth with the pressure of my suction, so I soothed it with my tongue immediately upon its release.
She moaned in my mouth, hard and deep and needy, and I took it as my completely ass backwards cue to break the kiss. My hands had already found their way to her ass, and I knew if I didn’t stop now, I’d end up pushing her into something she really wasn’t ready for.
“Go put on a shirt, baby,” I ordered softly, and then offered, “Take a shower if you want to.”
The shy girl was just under the surface, clearing the fog of lust, and I knew she’d much rather succumb to it in the privacy of my room or the shower than have to live through it in front of me.
I pressed a soft peck to the corner of her lips and inhaled the smell of the skin of her cheek with my nose. Subtly sweet like a rose surrounded by apples.
“I’ll finish making breakfast,” I said into her skin before pulling away. “You’re not allergic to anything other than lime juice, are you?”
She smiled slightly before shaking her head.
“Good. I’ll turn the bacon and eggs into omelets, then.”
“Kline?” she asked, ignoring my rundown and sliding her hand up my neck to the juncture of my jaw. My throat tightened and my pulse beat double time as her thumb brushed the line of it.
“Yeah, Benny?”
“Thanks.” One soft kiss to my lips later, she turned and retreated to my bedroom and all I could do was watch as she went, my boxer briefs still twisted around my ankles.
I was fucked—really and truly fucked—when it came to Georgia Cummings.
“Omelet’s ready,” I called through the closed bathroom door after making a quick stop in my closet to put on a pair of jersey shorts until I showered. I was still sticky with the evidence of Georgia’s performance, so I opted to go commando underneath them until I could rectify it—this billionaire’s apartment only had one bathroom.
I expected her to call something back through the door, but she opened it instead, stepping into the doorway and nearly into me with wet hair, a towel around her body.
With a mind of its own, my hand reached out to wipe away the lingering drop of water on the top swell of her breast. She shivered.
I felt downright needy for more contact. Hugs, hand holding—I didn’t give a fuck. I just wanted to touch her, and I wanted to do it all day.
“Spend the day with me,” I blurted.
“Kline—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Don’t say no.”
She smiled, a tiny laugh coating my skin as she tilted her head to the side just slightly. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Good,” I breathed in relief.
“But I do need to go home first. I need clothes. Preferably ones that fit and don’t smell like you.” She held up a hand before I got defensive, admitting softly, “It’s distracting.”
“Fine,” I agreed easily, countering, “But I’m going with you. Last time I let you arrive separately, you were forty-five minutes late.”
Her face pinched in annoyance.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, smoothing it away just as fast. Without moving back, I spoke my parting words right against her lips. “Any other time I’d be patient, baby, but today, when it comes to spending time with you, I find I’m a little less willing to wait.”
“Cokes from a vending machine? Hot dogs from a vendor? What’s next, Mr. Spontaneity?” I nudged him with my shoulder.
He shrugged, taking the last bite of his mustard and relish-covered dog. “I didn’t really have a plan. I just wanted to make sure you spent the day with me.”
Night was settling over the city, streetlights glittering the pavement with their soft glow. We had spent the day riding the subway and making stops at random. Kline would ask me a question and my answer was what decided our next stop.
Favorite place to relax? A stroll through Central Park.
Favorite childhood memory? Feeding ducks at the Brooklyn zoo.
Dinner was outside of MoMA, after we had spent most of the evening browsing Picasso’s sculptures and Jackson Pollock’s beautiful landscapes. He had kissed me slow and deep, fogging my brain with memories of this morning. Kline waited until he had me good and turned on, then pulled away, nonchalantly asking what sounded good for dinner.
The horny side of me quickly responded, “Well, I really enjoyed breakfast this morning.”
“You want bacon and eggs again?”
“No,” I answered, standing on my tiptoes and kissing a sensual path along his jaw. Using my teeth to tug at his earlobe, I whispered, “That wasn’t my favorite part of breakfast.”
And that’s how we ended up at a street vendor outside of MoMA, ordering hot dogs. The cheeky bastard had made sure to order us footlongs, adding, “Just trying to get the size right.”
He found a bench, pulling me down into his lap. “Let’s eat, Benny girl,” he said, kissing my forehead and setting dinner in my hands.
I ate my footlong, enjoying every second of being in his company. Pedestrians meandered past us. Taxis sped by in their usual hurry. But the world didn’t exist in that moment. I was too busy savoring every soft kiss to my cheek and handsome smile flashed in my direction.
“This might have been better than breakfast.” I took my last bite, moaning.
He tickled my ribs with his free hand. “I never pegged you as a liar, Ms. Cummings.”
“Who said I was lying?” I winked.
“You got a little something, right here.” He wiped a drop of ketchup from the corner of my mouth, sucking it off his finger and waggling his brows. “Always so fucking good.”
I laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “All right, dirty boy, what’s next on the agenda?”
Helping me to my feet, he grinned. “I’ve got an idea, but I need to know if you’re ready to be a little wild.”
“How wild?” I questioned, a sassy hand on my hip.
He tossed our empty bottles and napkins in the trash.
“Crazy, insane kind of wild.” His eyes turned serious. He grabbed my hips, guiding me toward a vacant alley and gently pushing my back against a brick wall. “Can you handle getting a little crazy with me?”
I nodded, smiling up at him.
He pressed a kiss to mouth. “Are you sure, Benny girl? Because I can’t have you chickening out last minute.”
“Are you calling me out?”
“Are you too scared to take the challenge?”
I bit his bottom lip, my teeth tugging playfully. “I’ll take any challenge you throw my way.”
“Is that so?”
“You bet your tight ass it is.”
“I’ve got fifteen dollars and a striptease that says you’ll chicken out.”
“I’ll see your bet and raise you an orgasm.”
His mouth met mine again, his tongue slipping past my lips. He kissed me passionately, sliding his hands into my hair and taking control. His lips coaxed a moan from my throat, only to leave me disappointed when he pulled away, smirking like the devil.
“Game on, baby.” He grabbed my hand, leading me back onto the sidewalk. “Oh, and I want you wearing heels. Sexy fucking heels that’ll blow my mind.”
I giggled, shaking my head. “You better prepare yourself because I’m demanding Channing Tatum-like dance moves. I’m talking pelvic thrusts and lots of grinding action.”
We took the subway until Kline ushered us off at Midtown East. Ten minutes later, we were standing in front of ONE UN—a prestigious hotel in the business of catering to the rich and famous.
“Are we schmoozing with diplomats tonight?”
He chuckled. “No, but we’re definitely going to get a little wet.”
I raised a curious brow as he led us through the lobby and to a bank of elevators hidden on the eastern side of the facility.
The ride was quick, and once we reached our apparent destination, we hopped off and walked hand in hand past a reception desk. A twenty-something-year-old girl glanced up from her laptop, offering a simple, “Enjoy your workout,” and resumed typing. She didn’t question our motives, seemingly oblivious to the fact that we were basically breaking in to their facility.
I started to get a little nervous as Kline led me through a locker room. He held open a glass door, ushering me toward an indoor pool. The water was enticing, lights still on and glowing beneath the clear water.
“Uh?” I asked, glancing around.
We were the only ones there, but a white sign with big red letters instructed us why.
No one permitted in the pool area after nine o’clock.
It was half past ten.
The sign also stated, Members only pool. Police will be contacted in the event this rule is violated.
Hefty warning for an indoor pool, right? Yeah, but remember, this hotel wasn’t just any hotel. It was adjacent to the United Nations Headquarters. When I’d joked about schmoozing with diplomats, I hadn’t been kidding.
Kline took off his shoes and socks, setting them on a chair.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“I’m getting ready to hop in the pool,” he responded, unbuckling his belt. “You’re joining me, right?”
“Pretty sure I don’t have a bathing suit.” I glanced down at my attire—jeans, a cotton tank top, a light cotton sweater, and brown leather flats.
“But I thought you said you wanted to be a little wild?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
“Yeah, but…” I paused when he unzipped his jeans and slid them down his legs.
“But…what?” He looked up, his eyes filled with a playful edge.
“We’re not even supposed to be in here,” I whispered, even though no one outside of the pool could hear me. “And you want me to what? Go for a dip in my bra and panties?”
He shrugged off his shirt. “You could always go without.”
My jaw dropped. “You want me to skinny-dip? In a pool that we’re not even supposed to be in?”
“Are you getting ready to chicken out?” Kline taunted. His gorgeous body was on full display, only boxers covering his muscular thighs.
“No,” I retorted.
He cocked a brow. “Are you sure? Because it kind of looks like you’re ready to jet.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Get ready to strip, baby.” A grin covered his lips. “And don’t forget the heels.”
His smug confidence had me changing my tune. I wasn’t usually the type of girl to break rules, but I also wasn’t the type of girl to back down from a bet.
My stubborn side won the battle for supremacy.
I kicked off my flats and moved toward the pool. My jeans, cardigan, and tank top were removed in quick fashion and discarded onto an empty chair. “Get ready to pay up.” I strode to the deep end, staring at his amused expression from across the water. I unclasped my bra and shimmied out of my panties, tossing them in his direction. With a sweet, devious little smile, I said, “Remember, I want lots of pelvic thrusting action,” and then dove into the pool.
After savoring the warmth of the water, I broke the surface, resting my arms on the ledge, and grinned back at Kline. “Put your money where your mouth is, Brooks.”
He laughed, sliding off his boxer briefs and turning around. He started humming a striptease beat, glancing at me over his shoulder and grinning playfully. Kline proceeded to pelvic thrust, his hands resting behind his head and his grin turning cocky with each punch forward, not an ounce of embarrassment on his face. He was visibly enjoying himself, loving the growing smile on my lips, and he was crazy adorable yet insanely hot at the same time. I watched his tight ass and muscular thighs flex with each circuit. He kept it up until my giggles turned loud and uncontrolled.
He dove into the pool, slicing through the water in succinct maneuvers. He moved toward me, his hands finding my hips and signaling him that he had reached his target.
When he broke the surface, his face hovered mere inches from mine. Water dripped from his eyelashes, down his cheeks, and clung to the very tips of his spiky wet hair. “Are you ready to shove twenty-dollar bills in my g-string?”
“Eh, maybe one dollar bills?” I teased.
“One-dollar bills?” he asked. “Baby, I recall a lot of pelvic action back there.”
“Yeah, but…” I sighed “…I didn’t get the full-frontal experience.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll make note that you’re a fan of full frontal.”<
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I smiled, my cheeks damn near bursting with amusement.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, moving us in the water. It rippled into tiny waves around our bodies. “You know what you’re not a fan of?” he asked, brow quirking.
“Small wieners?”
His chest vibrated against my skin, laughter spilling from his lips. “Besides that. I’m well aware you’ve got an appetite for nothing smaller than a footlong.”
I giggled, savoring his teasing smile. “Tell me, Brooks, what am I not a fan of?”
“Emergency rooms.”
I tilted my head to the side, perplexed.
“You were really fucking adorable last night, slap-happy and high on Benny, but before you got to that point, I was worried.” His forehead touched mine. “I wanted to take you to St. Luke’s, but you’re pretty damn stubborn.”
The look in his eyes warmed my stomach. I couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine, the kind of shape I had been in last night. I could recall bits and pieces here and there, but for the most part, it seemed like a hazy dream. It had been our first real date. We barely knew each other outside of work, yet Kline hadn’t hesitated to take care of me. He hadn’t freaked out or gotten embarrassed that his date looked ridiculous. Because, let’s face it, I’d looked insane. Like someone had given me botched plastic surgery kind of crazy.
Last night, Kline hadn’t been focused on anything but making sure I was okay.
And it was apparent, he really was worried.
Those were not the actions of a man whose intentions were less than genuine.
He was different from anyone I had ever met, in the best way. In the span of forty-eight hours, he had somehow gained a large part of my trust. I wasn’t skeptical or scrutinizing his every word; I was merely enjoying feeling safe and cherished in his presence.
“My brother is an ER resident at St. Luke’s. He just so happened to be working a twenty-four-hour call shift last night,” I explained.