Hell, I’ve been fantasising about this for nights now and I want it to last.
She sits on my lap and I lean forward, tracing one of her nipples lightly with my tongue, causing her to make a keening noise low in her throat. I circle the dusky pink aureole of her flesh, cupping her other breast in the palm of my hand as I rock my hips, pushing deeper inside her. She moves up and down my length in small movements and I lift a hand to the back of her head, drawing her mouth down, kissing her hard, tasting wine and dinner in her mouth, aching to taste all of her.
She makes a moaning noise and I know it’s a precursor to her orgasm, and fuck, I want to feel her come more than I want just about anything on earth. My tongue duels with hers in time with my cock and she’s so tight around me, her muscles squeezing me until I can barely breathe, then she explodes and it’s the most unbearable form of torture.
Her muscles spasm around my length. I hold her right where she is and, before she can regain her breath, I begin to move again and curve my hand around her butt, running my fingers across the crease there so she trembles a little in my lap. I shift my attention to her other nipple, this time sucking it in my mouth hard, pressing my teeth to the tip so she tilts her head back, crying out. My fingers at her rear push against her, teasing her with the promise of my complete possession.
I feel her muscles tightening again and she’s rolling her hips desperately, her lips crying my name towards the sky, her body covered in goosebumps. I move back to her other breast and subject it to the same torture, rougher, harder, my teeth gliding over the sensitive tip until she’s incandescent. My hand on her butt lifts up and comes back in a slap that has her crying out, my name on her lips tortured as she arches her back.
Fuck, she’s so beautiful. I shove my plate aside so her back can connect properly with the table and I can see her better. Her dress is ruched over her flat stomach and her breasts are two perfect peaks. I fondle them hungrily with my hands and jerk my hips to drive my cock deeper inside of her.
She writhes, pleasure making her body frantic, frantic in a way I am completely hooked on, but it’s not enough. I’m riding a wave of torturous desire. I could come at any point but I don’t want to yet. I don’t want to. Instead, I drop a hand to her clit and rub my fingers over her flesh, moving inside her while I stimulate that cluster of nerves.
She’s swearing and crying out and I know how close she is, how wild she is. I want to taste her. It’s not enough to feel her. With a guttural oath, I pull my sheathed length from her body. Her cries of protest are music to my ears—I can’t be the only one driven to the edge of sanity by our coming together.
‘Don’t you dare stop,’ she moans.
‘Believe me, I don’t intend to.’
I push her legs wider apart and bring my mouth to her sex so she bucks against me, her legs quivering. I hold her still, pushing at her thighs to keep them spread as I run my tongue over her length, tasting her and tormenting her until she’s right back where she was, passion exploding through her.
‘Please, please, Theo. God, please.’
I move my tongue deeper and then suck her tangle of nerves into my mouth and she whimpers and twists so I have to hold her thighs harder. I feel her surrender, I taste her climax and I don’t stop, even as she’s tumbling over the edge. It’s torture, I know, but the very best kind. She rides wave after wave, her body trembling, her voice shaking, and I don’t stop because in this moment all I want is this, and all she needs is me.
She’s so wet, so completely wet, and my own restraint is at breaking point. She lies against the table, propped on her elbows, and fixes me with a flushed stare. ‘So you’re back?’
My laugh is husky. ‘Apparently.’
She’s moving then, bringing her body back to mine, and I wait for her to straddle me once more, to take me deep inside her, but instead she shifts off the side of the table and stands a little shakily beside me. Her eyes hold a challenge as she grips my legs and pulls me towards her. I’m big, she’s not, and there’s no way she’d be strong enough to move me without my help, so I do as she’s asking and angle my body.
Her eyes still hold mine as she reaches between us and unfurls the condom. I frown briefly, but then she’s kneeling between my legs, still looking at me as she opens her mouth and takes my cock so deep I hitch at the back of her throat.
Breath hisses from between my lips. I dig my fingers into my thighs, unable to wrench my eyes away from her as she moves her warm, wet mouth up and down my length, her eyes on mine, her possession so complete, so fucking great, that I see stars and unicorns and rainbows and pixies. Her mouth on me is heaven. Bliss. Nirvana. I tilt my head back, staring up at the dusky sky, my control slipping with every movement of her mouth.
‘I’m so close, Asha,’ I groan, my fingers reaching for her shoulders. She pauses at my tip, then pulls her mouth off. I reach for my cock on autopilot but she bats my hand away.
‘I want you to come.’
‘I’m going to.’
‘Now.’ And her mouth is back on me, moving up and down, my tip brushing the back of her throat, her mouth squeezing me so tight, and my hands curl around her shoulders gently now, holding on as I feel myself start to spill into her.
‘Fuck, are you sure?’
Her eyes hold a warning and then she smiles around my length. I don’t think there’s ever been a sexier sight than this. I’m so glad she’s smiled because I seriously doubt I could stop myself now. I thrust once and groan as I come hard—I’m no longer looking at the dusky sky, I’m flying through it, soaring towards the outer atmosphere. I am no longer a man, I’m something else entirely and that’s all because of Asha.
I stare upwards for so long, savouring this, committing it to the banks of memory that are inviolable to time, then slowly I draw my gaze back to her, my chest tightening at the sight of her right there between my legs.
She moves her mouth then pulls away, her tongue tracing my tip one last time before she offers me the sexiest grin I can imagine and stands, her breasts still beautifully naked.
‘That was...unexpected.’ My voice is deep.
‘Was it?’ she teases, winking at me as she reaches for her dress, pulling it back up. I watch, reluctant to lose my view of her flesh.
‘It was also brilliant.’
She laughs. ‘So I gather.’
I stare at her, my world shifting, desire burning my veins from the inside out. The sun is still high enough in the sky to cast light and I’m glad. There’s a whole night ahead of us and I intend to make the most of it. We have a finite quantity of nights like this left. The thought is almost enough to sober me, but then memories of what she just did are strong and I smile, because it’s better to have had inexplicably great sex and lost it than never to have enjoyed something like this at all, right?
CHAPTER FIVE
HE’S GONE WHEN my alarm wakes me, but my bed smells of him and the ghost of his body’s possession wraps around me, making me smile, making my limbs throb and my pulse gallop. I stretch then push out of bed, padding into the kitchen in search of coffee.
My day is crazy busy. I have back-to-back meetings and I’m glad because when I’m busy it’s easier to keep thoughts of Theo at bay. I have to—my job demands that of me, and I don’t let anything come between me and my work.
Too many people depend on me, but it’s not as simple as that. There’s only one person I give a shit about proving wrong, and that’s my dad.
I tilt my chin in a silent gesture of defiance, focusing across the boardroom table, listening to my Asian-Pacific Sales Director’s presentation.
‘Luxury sales are down globally,’ I murmur.
‘But you’ll see we’re defying that in our region,’ she prompts, shifting to a different slide. ‘We’ve had solid growth and our latest point of sale research shows that consumers are migrating from rival companies owing to a per
ception of greater quality and value. We’re seeing excellent growth in Asia Pacific, Australia in particular.’
I nod, pleased, and cross my legs beneath the table. Fire bursts inside me, desire almost impossible to ignore. Out of nowhere, I remember the way we made love on the terrace and I ache for Theo all over again. It takes every inch of my willpower to keep my mind in the moment, to focus on what we’re discussing. An hour later, I have five minutes to myself and I check my phone.
There’s a message from him. My pulse fires as I click into it.
Do you like Korean barbecue?
I pull a face, but a smile is twitching at the corners of my lips.
I do. Are you conducting a survey or is this an invitation?
Both. I’ll correlate the data and get back to you.
My next meeting arrives before I can reply. It’s three more hours before I’m done and I reach for my phone on autopilot, right as a text pops in from Theo.
I’m downstairs.
I frown.
I’m still at work.
I know. I’m downstairs from your office.
My heart-rate accelerates. I hover my finger over the keypad.
Why?
I can practically hear him laughing.
IDK...the scenery?
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
If concrete’s your thing...
You’re my thing. Get your butt down here.
My heart slams into my ribs. I jam a stack of papers into my handbag, thinking guiltily of the fact I should definitely be reading them now instead of flirting with my fuck buddy via text message.
And definitely instead of skiving out of the office an hour or so before I should leave, just because he’s downstairs and wanting to go to Korean barbecue...
I shoulder my way out of the office, flicking the lights off then calling to my assistant, ‘I’ve got a thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Kevin—who is unswervingly organised and one hundred per cent the reason I can get as much done in a day as I do—frowns. ‘I don’t have anything in your diary...’
‘It’s personal.’ My smile is tight and at his look of undisguised curiosity I shake my head. ‘Just a thing with a friend. I’ll see you in the morning.’
His disappointment is obvious. Apparently he was hoping I had some sort of romantic assignation. And even though I kind of do, I’m definitely not prepared to tell Kevin—or anyone else that. I imagine Kevin’s reaction to the news I’ve been sleeping with the same guy for six months. He would have no end of questions and I know instinctively I’d struggle to have answers to any of them.
No, it’s not serious. Yes, I know six months is a long time. Because he’s not into relationships and I’ve spent a lifetime trying to make one man love me; there’s no way I’d ever be stupid enough to sign up to that again.
But this isn’t—and never has been—about love. It’s not about me loving him, and certainly not about him loving me. I’ve finally learned that expecting nothing of anyone makes life a heck of a lot easier. The elevator whooshes to the lobby. I stride across it with my head bent, sweeping out of the sliding doors into the small drive-through area. I realise once I emerge that I’ve never been in his car. I scan the bays, trying to guess which it would be, then a light comes on in a sleek black SUV and he’s stepping out of the driver’s door, walking towards me with his trademark masculinity and confidence. He’s breathtaking and, indeed, my breath bursts out of me.
‘Hey.’ My voice is croaky. He nods, reaching for my over-stuffed handbag, taking its hefty weight from my shoulder before putting a hand in the small of my back.
We walk side by side to the car and it’s so strange because for the briefest moment it almost feels like a date. It’s not, and I rush to remind myself of that, to hold onto the reality of what we are, of what I want from him.
Sex. Lots of sex. As much as possible in the next month.
No, not quite a month; it’s less than that now. I ignore the blade that presses into my side.
‘How did your Korean barbecue poll turn out?’
He opens the door for me. ‘Two of two respondents answered favourably.’
‘Wow. A one hundred per cent success rate: impressive.’
He grins, leaning into the car once I’m seated and kissing me—quickly but as though he can’t help it. I smile against his mouth, curve a hand around the back of his head and hold him right where he is, deepening the kiss, sliding my tongue into his mouth to tangle with his.
His hand rests on my knee and I squirm a little, wanting him to touch me higher, needing him in a way that is almost painful.
His laugh is throaty and he breaks away from me with a small shake of his head. ‘Click in, Asha.’ He shuts the door and I pout because I don’t love the way he was so easily able to back away from me. Not when my insides are quivering with renewed desire.
But I buckle my seat belt in place and shift my body towards the driver’s seat, so when he steps into it I’m facing him. He revs the engine to life and it throbs beneath us, quiet but resonant.
‘Where are we going?’
‘I know a place in the Village.’
‘I’ll bet you do.’ I cross one leg over the other and feel his eyes shift to me, to my legs, and my heart rate accelerates.
‘Eyes forward, mister.’
He grins, his gaze meeting mine for just long enough to create sparks in the car and then he’s looking forward again, driving effortlessly through the streets of Manhattan—something I have only attempted when absolutely necessary. I’m a good driver but these streets are such a rat race and I’d rather use my car time to get work done.
Still, there’s something incredibly sexy about the way he controls the car and navigates traffic, and I find myself watching him with growing curiosity.
After about ten minutes, he pulls up at traffic lights and keeps his head forward. ‘If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to pull this car over and drag you into whatever bush I can find.’
Despite the sexy imagery, I keep my response light. ‘I’m afraid there aren’t a lot of shrubs around.’
‘The sidewalk would do just fine.’
I laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then stop staring at me like you want to rip my clothes off.’
‘How do you know how I’m looking at you? You’re concentrating on the road, remember?’
‘Something that’s increasingly difficult to do,’ he mutters, but when he briefly flicks his gaze to me I see the hint of a grin on his lips. My chest tightens.
Silence falls, the lights change and he drives on.
‘What time did you leave last night?’
‘This morning,’ he corrects. ‘Around three.’
‘So late?’
He makes a throaty noise of assent then turns to look at me. ‘You were fast asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘I’m glad.’ He reaches over and briefly puts his hand on my knee. I swallow to bring moisture back to a suddenly dry mouth.
He pulls us into a narrow lane, parking the car halfway up the kerb. I step out and look around. It’s dark. He reaches for my hand and pulls me with him, to the end of the lane and around the corner. The restaurant isn’t anything like I’d expected—small, intimate, glowing golden in the early evening with a bright orange awning stretching over the footpath. As we approach, the door pulls inwards and a waitress dressed in linen dungarees and a white singlet top grins at us.
‘Table for two?’
Theo puts a hand around my waist. ‘Yeah. A booth.’
She spins and cuts through the room. ‘This way.’
It’s smoky inside, a gift from the tables that are each fitted with a barbecue grill. It’s busy enough to create the kind of din that fades into white noise.
The restaurant itself is rustic and intimate and somehow beautifully authentic.
‘Do you come here often?’ I look around, taking in the silk wall hangings, covered in brush strokes.
‘From time to time.’
I curve one leg under me, propping my elbows on the table.
‘You bring dates here?’ I suggest, looking around once more. ‘That would make sense.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s intimate but out of the way. You’re not likely to run into anyone you know. There’s no press pack waiting outside.’
He grinned. ‘You’re wrong on all counts. I come here with my brothers, and only because the food is amazing. You know I’m not the kind of guy who bothers to date.’
His words are said light-heartedly but they set off a reaction inside of me; something shifts in a way that is unpleasant, but I’ve no idea why.
The waitress appears, bopping along to the music that’s playing over the speakers. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’
He turns to me. ‘Beer? Wine?’
‘Whatever you’re having. I don’t mind.’
He orders a couple of beers and tells the waitress just to bring the chef’s selection. I don’t think either of us really cares what we eat or drink. We’re both seeing this as what it is: preamble. If anything, it’s delaying what I really want, which is to get him back into bed as soon as possible. At the same time, there’s a sinking sense of inevitability to this, a curiosity and a secret pleasure that comes from sitting across the table from him, preparing to share a meal.
‘So you’re close to your brothers?’ I ask once the waitress has brought the beers and left us alone again.
There’s the slightest hesitation before he nods. ‘Yeah.’
‘Are you the oldest?’
‘Nah, youngest.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah, why?’
‘You just seem... I don’t know. I guess you seem like a big brother.’
Burn My Hart--A Sexy Billionaire Romance Page 6