by Olivia Dade
“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.” She leaned forward until her breath moistened his shoulder. Carefully taking a bit of his satiny skin between her teeth, she nibbled and then licked. “Yup. Delicious.”
His face slackened, and his eyes closed. “Jesus, Angel.”
Angel. No man had ever called her that before, never spoken to her with such reverence and raw need in his voice. Her fingers trembled at the sound of the endearment, even as inexplicable tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She blinked them away quickly, focusing again on the taste of him. On the smooth hardness of the flesh beneath her lips.
For several long seconds, the two of them remained connected only by her mouth on his shoulder. Then his eyes reopened, and they held a new, reckless light. He stared up at her as he quickly stripped off his pants. He put his hands on her knees, slowly spread them apart, and stepped between them. Even through his boxers and her jeans, the insistent press of his erection seared her thigh. And from what she could tell, he hadn’t misled her about his generous size. Holy shit, the man felt big.
“Arms up.”
She obeyed without a second thought. Her red sweater hit the floor in a crumpled pile.
He fumbled with her bra. Finally, he rasped, “I want this off. Either you remove it yourself or I get a pair of scissors from my closet. Your choice.”
Angie didn’t believe in cheap bras, so she hurriedly reached behind her back and unhooked herself. A second later, the scrap of fabric landed on top of his shirt. His hands slid up her ribcage and underneath her breasts, cupping them. His thumbs stroked the skin around her nipples, but didn’t touch them directly. They immediately peaked, demanding his attention.
“Your skin is so goddamn soft.” He stepped away, and she almost cried from disappointment.
“Why are you—” she began.
He halted her words by taking her hips in his hands and tugging her back onto the floor. Pulling her into his arms, he shifted his chest until her nipples rubbed against him. He gave her a brief, hard kiss.
“Take off your jeans and”—he stumbled over his words, blushing a little bit—“everything else. I need to see the rest of you. Feel you.”
Lips parted, he watched as she unbuttoned, unzipped, and stepped out of her jeans. She didn’t hesitate before hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her red panties, jerking them down her legs and kicking them to the side. Naked and unapologetic, she stood before him.
His hot eyes raced over her flesh. “You’re breathtaking.”
Angie stepped back and leaned against the edge of the desk. Her arms straight, she propped her hands behind her on the cool wood. As she’d intended, his eyes flicked to her breasts, displayed without shame for his enjoyment.
“The desk,” he said, his voice nearly a growl.
She blinked. “What about it?”
“Get on the fucking desk.” His hot hands gripped her waist and helped lift her onto the top of the smooth surface.
Even though she couldn’t seem to catch her breath, she had to laugh. “I fervently hope we’ll make it a fucking desk.”
He moved swiftly between her legs and leaned into her, supporting her back with his strong forearms. “Give me about ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Depends on you, really.”
Those were his last words before he descended upon her. After a quick kiss on her lips, his open mouth trailed down her cheek, roving to her neck. She jumped when she felt him suck where her pulse beat, hard enough that she’d need to wear a high-necked sweater the next day. Hard enough that she moaned. He trailed kisses to her shoulder, where he gave her a tiny nip.
“Beautiful everywhere,” he said. “Absolutely everywhere.”
He cupped her breasts again and nuzzled their curves. Taking her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, he gave them each a gentle, careful tug. He paused, but a quick glance up at her face seemed to reassure him. The next tug pinched a little more, making heat gather in her belly. He ran his thumbs over her nipples in a soothing stroke, and she arched into his hands.
He bent down a little further. Taking each peak into his mouth, he drew lightly on them as his tongue gave a little lick.
“You’re killing me,” she gasped.
He directed a rakish grin her way, an expression she’d never imagined on Grant’s face before that moment. It looked good on him, though. The promise in it sent a bolt of electricity to her center.
“Let me make it better,” he suggested. Cradling the back of her head in his hand, he eased her down until she lay on the silky wood of the desk. Then he disappeared from her view. His two broad hands gripped her hips and shifted them closer to the desk’s edge. She raised herself up on her elbows, but he pressed her back down with a firm but gentle hand on her chest.
So she was staring at the remarkably pristine paint job on his ceiling when his shoulders moved between her thighs and his hands urged her legs over his shoulders. His breath ghosted against the curls covering her pussy, and she tensed in anticipation. He parted the curls with a firm stroke of his finger. Then she felt his mouth cover her, his tongue sweeping through her slick folds. He teased her clitoris with gentle little licks before dipping into her pussy as if he were starved for her taste.
She squirmed as pleasure arced through her body, but his hands on her thighs kept her still for his mouth. At least until one hand left her thigh and traveled between her legs. As his mouth moved to suck lightly at her clitoris, his finger slid just inside her pussy, teasing the entrance. Her fingers curled into the desk, but didn’t find any purchase. Finally, she reached above her head, hooking her hands around the edge of the desk.
His finger pushed easily inside her, rubbing against the front wall of her vagina. When he added another, she gasped and moaned. She spread her legs as far as she could, desperate for a little more pressure against her clit. Hungry to feel the precise touch of his tongue or rub of his fingers that she needed.
“I love the sounds you make,” Grant said, and the sensation of his lips brushing against her clit almost sent her over the edge.
His fingers slowly left her, and she moaned. But then she felt his hands firm on her ass, keeping her steady as he buried his face fully in her pussy. He ate at her with his entire mouth—his lips, his tongue, even his teeth. Finally, after he took her clitoris in his mouth and tugged firmly, she broke.
With a desperate whimper, she tumbled into the hardest orgasm of her life. Her hips lifted and her legs pressed against his head and shoulders, trying to pull his mouth closer, tighter against her. His hands bit into her flesh as he lifted her to him and gave her what she wanted. He licked her through her spasms, gentling his touch as they faded. When at long last she lay boneless on the desk, gasping for air, he gave her clitoris one last tender nuzzle with his nose. His tongue swept through her pussy a final time, and then he raised his head from between her thighs.
“That was amazing,” he said.
She lifted her head from the desk and stared at him in disbelief. What the fuck? He’d done all the work, and she’d had all the fun. What was he talking about?
He rested his cheek on her belly. “You’re the most responsive woman I’ve ever known. I can’t wait to see what we can do after I know what you like.”
“You seem pretty well-informed on that front already,” Angie noted, and she saw him smile against her stomach.
“It bears further investigation,” he said. “Starting now.”
He rose to his feet, shoved down his boxers, and stood once more between her legs. His hands behind her back urged her to a seated position. Suddenly, they were pressed together from chest to groin. Her legs surrounded his hips, and his swollen cock nudged her pussy. Before he entered her, though, he slid one hand between their bodies to stroke her clitoris.
She inhaled sharply and wiggled away as his light touch overstimulated her sensitive flesh. “I don’t know if I can—”
“We won’t know until we try. I want to feel you come again. Around my coc
k this time.”
“Good luck,” she said dubiously.
“No luck needed. Just proper planning and execution.”
He grinned and centered himself against her. With a gentle push, he began to slide inside. The tight stretch of her internal muscles around his erection startled her. No wonder the man needed special condoms.
Hmmm. Something about that seemed important . . .
Wait a second. Shit. Shit!
She pushed at his shoulder. “Grant!”
His jaw clenched, he stopped pushing inside her. “Too much?” Then his face fell. “Or did you change your mind?”
“Condoms. Goddammit, condoms.”
“I’m a fucking moron.” With a groan, he separated himself from her and trotted naked to the hallway.
She admired the stellar view as he bent over to unzip the navy suitcase and snatch a package from it. She also took the opportunity to help him out a bit on the second orgasm front.
He rose, turned around, and groaned again. “Are you touching yourself? Really?”
“Yup.”
“That is so fucking hot.” He watched her for a minute, his eyes heavy-lidded, until she was moaning again.
“Okay,” he finally declared, his voice almost unrecognizable. “My turn. Brace yourself on the desk.”
She slid to the edge and supported herself with her hands flat on the desk. Without another word spoken, he spread her legs, took her hips in his hands, and drove inside her. They both gasped at the sensation, but he didn’t hesitate. Immediately, he went to work, stroking inside her in a hard, steady rhythm.
“Mine,” he said. “Not just for tonight. Mine.”
Her head fell back, and she could barely support herself on her shaking arms. With each impact of his body against hers, a little moan slipped out. He growled low in his throat, and hearing that primitive sound from such a controlled, cautious man excited her even more.
“On your back,” he ordered.
She fell back, and he leaned over her, supporting himself on his forearms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer as he ground against her. His cock pressed deep inside her pussy, and he managed to rub against her clitoris with each stroke. She reached for his head, pressing his face into her neck and tangling her fingers in his curls.
“Almost there,” she managed to inform him in between gasps.
“Fuck, Angel. Touch yourself again.”
So she did. And after another couple of increasingly desperate thrusts from Grant, she came for the second time that night. She cried out, clutching him close to her as her pussy clenched around his cock. His shaking hand came to her cheek and turned her face so he could see it. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, sweat on his face and a look of primal satisfaction in his eyes.
“I did that,” he said, grunting with each hard push inside her. “Me.”
When her orgasm finally faded, she noted breathlessly, “I had a hand in it too.”
He laughed, and then groaned. With one final plunge, he planted himself inside her and shook.
She held him close during his orgasm, squeezing herself tight around his cock. A raw sound ripped from his throat as he arched above her. In that moment, she understood the rough declaration he’d made such a short time ago. Mixed with her exhaustion and pleasure, she felt a sense of pride and possession she’d never experienced with a man before. I did that. Me. I made a sensible, restrained man come like it was killing him.
Finally, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and collapsed on her.
“Glad you’re so tall,” he muttered. “Don’t have to worry about crushing you.”
“No. Just killing me with orgasms.”
She could feel his smile against her neck. After a minute, he stroked her hair back from her face with gentle fingers. “Angie?”
“Angie can’t come to the phone right now. She’s too busy recovering from the two best orgasms of her life. Please leave a message, and she’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
He pressed a kiss on her shoulder. “When she gets a chance, can she call me back and tell me I didn’t hurt her? That she doesn’t regret this?”
She took a deep breath before answering him the best way she knew how. “Did you mean it earlier, when you said I was yours? Or was that just lust talking?”
He continued stroking her hair without a single moment’s hesitation. “God knows, I feel lust aplenty,” Grant said. “But I meant it.”
“Then let me tell you this,” Angie said. She sank her fingers into his curls and tugged his head up from her shoulder. “You didn’t hurt me. You gave me more pleasure than anyone’s ever given me in my life. You’re mine. Not just for tonight. No regrets.”
“No regrets,” he repeated, his blue eyes dark and intent.
And when they moved to the bedroom and started all over again—this time remembering to bring a handful of his million condoms with them—she believed it with all her heart. When they fell asleep in each other’s arms, she still didn’t have a doubt.
He was hers. She was his. No regrets.
7
The blare of classical music in Grant’s right ear startled him awake. He blinked his eyes open at the noise, and then noticed several unusual things in quick succession.
First: He’d apparently slept on top of a painter’s tarp, rather than a sheet. A sleepy glance at the bed didn’t reveal the location of his missing linens, much less his down-filled duvet. He couldn’t even see the blanket he sometimes used on cool nights. Instead, only the soft cotton throw he usually kept draped over the back of his couch covered him and kept him warm.
Second: The clock read half past five in the morning. He never set the alarm that early, and he didn’t need to do so today either. His meeting began at eight, and it didn’t take him more than an hour to get ready and drive to his new workplace.
Third: Every muscle in his body protested his movements. At the same time, he felt more relaxed than he had in months.
Fourth: Resting next to him lay the glorious reason for the other three irregularities. Angie slept on her side, her long legs tangled in the quilt he’d managed to locate in one of the moving boxes before they’d given in to their exhaustion. With her hands tucked beneath her cheek, her blond hair fanned around her head, and her eyes closed, she looked childlike and innocent. He knew from intimate experience, however, how little that image reflected reality.
His mouth stretched into a grin, despite his extreme fatigue. No wonder she hadn’t budged at the sound of the alarm. They’d kept each other awake and active until well past midnight. So late that neither one of them had felt inspired to dig through boxes until they found his sheets. Right before she’d passed out with an arm slung possessively over his chest, she’d asked him to set the alarm so she’d have enough time to get home and prepare for work.
“Important meeting tomorrow morning,” she’d slurred into one of the couch cushions they’d used as pillows. “Can’t be late. Gonna get fired.”
That last comment had worried him. Tonight he planned to get to the bottom of whatever work problems were bothering her. Maybe together they could come up with some solutions. He didn’t like to think of Angie in distress.
He also hated to disturb her when he knew how exhausted she must feel. But she’d asked him to get her up, so he would. He rolled over to silence the alarm, planning on waking her himself. But when he turned back to face her, her eyes had opened halfway.
“Good morning,” he said. He couldn’t resist touching her, even knowing she needed to leave. With one hand, he traced the line of her body from her shoulder down to her hip and thigh. She sighed and scooted closer to him.
“Morning. God, you feel good,” she added as he pulled her into his arms.
“Mmmm.” No need to say more.
“Have to get up before I fall back asleep,” she said after a few minutes of drowsy cuddling. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I need to get to work early.”
&nbs
p; “That’s what you said. Angie, when you said you’d get fired, what did—”
But she was already disentangling herself from his arms and climbing out of bed. “We’ll talk about it tonight. Thanks for taking my mind off of it for a few hours, though, in the nicest possible way.” She slanted a sleepy but wicked smile his way. “I’d planned on beer and some solo time with my battery-operated boyfriend, but your distraction methods proved much more effective.”
“Happy to serve,” he said. As she gathered her rumpled clothing and pulled it on, he watched with great interest. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”
“Plus, if you’re going to make it through that condom supply before they expire, you’ll need all the help you can get. It’s fortunate I came along when I did.”
“Generous and beautiful. A man’s ultimate fantasy.”
She stopped in the middle of pulling on her boots. “Not just any man’s,” she reminded him. “Yours.”
“Mine,” he echoed with satisfaction. “All mine.”
She leaned over the bed and took his face between her hands. Meeting his gaze directly, she said, “And you’re mine. Don’t you forget it.”
He’d had no idea. Being claimed by a wild woman felt awesome, at least when that woman was Angela Burrowes.
She gave him a last, hard kiss on the mouth and headed out the bedroom door. “See you tonight,” she called over her shoulder.
“Angie?”
She reappeared in his doorway. “Yes?”
“No regrets?” he asked. He knew what answer she’d give, but he wanted to hear it anyway. The previous evening resembled no night he’d ever spent before. He needed to make absolutely sure he knew what had happened and how they both felt about it.
“No regrets.” She gave him a jaunty little salute, and then headed out.
He heard the door slam behind her. Scratching his chest, he yawned and wandered to the window beside his front door. Once he saw her car safely leave his street, he took a quick trip to the bathroom, pulled the cotton throw back around himself, and reset the alarm.