by A. C. Arthur
He grinned so she smiled, even though a slow trickle of insecurity had already dared to creep onto the scene. It was ridiculous. This was a different time and place, and Maurice was unlike any man she’d ever met before. Hell, this situation was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The past had no business here. She’d remind herself of that whenever necessary.
“I really like your mouth,” he said, running a finger over her lip line. “Really, really like it.”
Before she could reply, she was being turned around and Maurice unzipped the dress, pushing it past her shoulders and down to the floor. When she stepped free of it, he ran his hands up and down her outer thighs, his breaths coming faster as he was the one kneeling now.
“There was a night we stayed late at the office. When the Golden Bride line first launched. You were wearing these black pants with gold-zipper pockets at your hip. And I wondered, what if those zippers went all the way down your long legs, and would the material fall from your body if they did?” His face was awfully close to her ass, the warmth of his breath fanning over the skin left bare there thanks to the black lace thong she wore.
“You thought about me sexually?” That had never occurred to her before. She and Maurice snipped at each other competitively. Never out of anger, but as friends, or even family. There was definitely a one-upmanship going on between them that most days she found entertaining.
Maurice was funny and totally self-absorbed at times. But he knew his job like no other PR exec she’d ever met. He handled everything that came at RGF, from the scandal with Riley and her first fiancé to just recently when a reporter attempted to undermine the partnership that Major—Maurice’s twin brother—had with Nina Fuller, the owner of a fashion app. Maurice was a whiz at crisis management and totally invested in his family’s fashion house. Yet, there’d never been a time she thought of him as just a man. Now, before anything else happened between them in this room, she knew she’d never think of him as anything less again.
“It was just that one time, and I cursed myself every second for the rest of that evening, swearing I wasn’t some type of sick bastard for thinking of you in that way.”
Because they hadn’t considered each other that way. Until they’d met anonymously online and got to know each other as man and woman. Dear Lover 1687 was the kind of man she’d longed for; he knew her in ways she’d just begun to know herself.
“And now we’re making our relationship awkward.” Doubt that hadn’t been there moments ago when she’d had him in her mouth now circled her mind like rain clouds.
He stood now, turning her so that she faced him again. “No. We’re making it better. Otherwise, all that pent-up desire we were able to release on that message board would remain locked up inside of us. We both deserve better.”
With those words he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting until her feet were off the floor and he could ease them back to the bed and lay her down. His movements from then on were methodical. Long fingers undid the clips holding the garters to her thigh-high black stockings. He unhooked the garter belt and her bra, tossing them both aside. When all she still wore were the thong, nylons and shoes, he stared down at her, passion alight in his dark eyes.
“You’re not beautiful.”
The walls around her immediately closed in until she had to gasp for breath. Memories came flooding back, and she rose up on her elbows, ready to push him away, get dressed and leave him in that room alone. A featherlight touch of his finger to the line of her jaw held her still.
“That’s not enough to describe you. It’s too ordinary. Too cliché.”
The rich timbre of his voice saying exactly what she needed to hear made her too hot.
“I don’t need flattery.” Although it was welcome, she’d resigned herself to not accepting it if it wasn’t sincere, which oftentimes it wasn’t. Really, that excuse had become a security shield to prevent her from the opposite: demeaning criticism.
“You deserve it.” He tilted her chin and leaned in to place the softest kiss against her lips. “Now, lie back and let me reminisce on something I wrote.”
She did as she was told. “You mean, you’re going to kiss me all over, stopping only when I beg.”
He’d already eased down until his mouth hovered scant inches over her nipple. The look he gave her—arched brows, mischief in his eyes and a quirk of his lips—was the most devilishly sexy expression she’d ever seen.
Maurice gave no verbal response, but he did suck that nipple into his mouth, gorging on it as if he’d been starving for years. She arched into the pleasure seizing her senses. The assault continued when he palmed her other breast, tweaking her other nipple until pleasure and pain had her gasping. Who would’ve guessed he’d have such a phenomenal mouth? Every spot of skin his tongue and lips touched they tortured. From the sensitive area beneath her breasts that she’d never considered an erogenous zone down to the spot just above her hip bone where his tongue traced lazy circles until her head thrashed against the bed. She was close to begging, and the wicked grin he gave when he lifted his head and spread her thighs wide said he knew it.
The fire that had been brewing between them for the last three months via email was now an inferno as her body craved every touch from him. Desta knew what was coming next. She’d received good oral before and was poised for Maurice to bring no less passion and desire than he’d already shown her. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the jolt of delight that shot so quick and hot through her body the second his tongue touched her clit. She almost leaped up off the bed. He’d patiently placed his palm on her lower abdomen, holding her steady as his other hand parted her pussy and he licked her again.
She huffed and grabbed the comforter.
He licked her repeatedly as if she were some new flavor of ice cream, and her thighs quivered. Sucking each lip into his mouth was another sweet torture, and Desta breathed out heavily before biting down on her lower lip. It was the only way to keep from yelling out and insisting he get inside her immediately.
“You can let go, lover.” His words were hot and teasing. “Just tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll lead you there.”
In other words, beg for more. No. She wasn’t begging, at least not yet.
Her nonresponse led to an arrogant chuckle from him, and she continued to hold onto those sheets. It didn’t work, and in the next minutes she would learn just how quickly her resolve could crumble.
In quick succession, Maurice sucked her clit, thrust into her opening, then flattened his tongue over her pussy in a way designed to drive anyone on the receiving end of such delightful torment absolutely crazy. Her body buzzed with need, her breaths came in quick pants, and she was certain all the sheets had been ripped from the mattress at this point.
“Say the words,” he whispered over her damp skin. “Say it and set us both free, lover. Just say it.”
Desta was strung so tight she barely wanted to move for fear she’d spontaneously combust. Dragging her hands away from the comforter, she pushed them through her hair and tried to catch her breath. Tried to think coherently. Then he blew over her clit, a very soft, very warm, extremely erotic breath that sent her teetering over the edge.
“Now, Maurice. Now. Please, now!”
CHAPTER FOUR
MAURICE HAD NEVER stripped out of his clothes faster than he had tonight. His dick was hard, her essence was still warm and spicy on this tongue, and she was lying on that bed totally naked, like a dessert prepared especially for him.
She watched him as he stood at the end of the bed, smoothing the condom down his length. Her eyes were fixed on him, her heated gaze zeroing in on his dick, making it jump in anticipation. When did she start to look better than any pinup photo or adult-movie star he’d ever seen?
He climbed onto the bed, still watching her watch him. Her hair was down around her shoulders, brushing over her lovely golden-bro
wn skin—skin he wanted to run his fingers and his tongue over. First, he was going to kiss that spot at her throat, right where her pulse beat as wildly as his heart was at this very moment. She spread her legs as he continued his trek toward her.
“This isn’t going to be slow.” The thought just occurred to him that this was their first time, and women often liked the first time to be slow. So they could commemorate or recall it later. He’d had no idea, but he’d recalled hearing that a time or two from someone he couldn’t remember at the moment. “I promise it’ll be good, but not slow. Not this time.”
When he was close enough, he slid his arms beneath the backs of her knees, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulders.
She reached her hands between them, cupping his dick in her palms once again. “Did I ask for slow?”
That question, coupled with the feel of her hands on him and the look of sheer wantonness on her face, just about drove him over the edge. In the next second he was sliding his dick inside her with one deep thrust that had them both moaning and gasping for their next breath.
As promised, he wasn’t slow. He grabbed her ankles, held onto her and pumped fiercely. She was so wet he slid in and out of her with such ease and pure delight. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. The rush of pleasure had his eyes closing as he continued to rotate his hips, pull out and then thrust back in. When he cracked his eyes open, it was to see her palming her breasts, squeezing until only the dark brown of her nipples was noticeable between her fingers. They puckered as if they were staring at him, trying to tell him something, to entice him, to drive him insane.
“Yes,” she moaned, licking her lips quickly. “Yes. More, more, more.”
He gave her exactly what she asked for, holding tight to her ankles as he pushed her legs away from his shoulders, spreading them into a wide V. Her mouth gaped, and her eyes widened as he rotated his hips again, much slower this time. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it as she stared up at him. The guttural groan that rumbled from her chest was like a reward.
“You want more of this? How much more can you take?” He wanted to pump harder, to go deeper, to release all the desire that had built up in his mind every time he’d read one of her emails. He wanted to feel each one of the words, to make them come to life in every thrust and push of his dick inside her.
“All. I want it all.” She’d spoken so clearly and so decisively he’d almost grinned, because for a moment she’d sounded like she was in the boardroom. Except he’d never seen Des naked before. He’d never even imagined her body would look this great without clothes or that she would be so warm and wet. So damn perfect.
Aiming to please, he eased one of her legs down to the bed, still keeping the other one pressed up against his chest, working in and out of her from a new angle. The groan that erupted from his chest with how good that first deeply penetrating stroke felt made his throat feel raw. Her fingers clenched the already-mussed sheets as she mumbled his name.
His name.
Maurice.
Said in the throes of pleasure, in Des’s voice.
It was his turn to bite down on his lip as his dick was so deep inside her warm heat he thought he would surely drown. If so, it would be with a smile on his face. But he wasn’t finished. Not until she was. To shift positions again, he eased out of her, immediately missing the feel of her tight muscles gripping his dick, milking him. She moved without instruction, as if she knew what she wanted, rolling until she was on her hands and knees.
“Yeah.” He grinned and repeated the one word. “Your favorite position.”
When he smacked both hands to the plump cheeks of her ass, she sighed and wiggled that ass in invitation for another smack.
She hissed this time as he’d put a little more sting into the second slap. “You know why this is my favorite position?”
He already knew because she’d told him...in a very lengthy email message. “Tell me, lover. Tell me exactly what you want me to do while I’m back here.”
“Hard,” she whispered. “I want it hard and fast. Make me come, hard and fast.”
No sweeter words were ever spoken. Flattening his hands on her butt cheeks again, he speared his dick into her, settling into the space he’d missed in those few moments away. Then pulled back and gave her exactly what she’d asked for.
* * *
She screamed. Grabbed the pillows, buried her face and screamed again, because she’d never come so hard it left her shivering all over. Her legs and arms were shaking as Maurice moved in and out of her slowly, no doubt letting her recover from the intensity of her release.
When had he gotten so thick and long and deeply embedded inside of her? Probably when she asked him for just that. Damn, this was good. Even now as he picked up speed, as the sound of her release mingled with his thrusts echoing throughout the room, all she could think of was how good it felt.
His hands were spreading her cheeks apart, so she was sure he was watching his dick enter and retreat. The thought of what that must look like caused another tendril of pleasure to slip down her spine, until she shivered again and bit down on the pillow.
“So good,” he was mumbling from behind her. “You look so good. Feel so good. Des, this is...”
He didn’t need to finish; she knew what he was going to say because she was feeling it, too. So. Damn. Good.
When he repeated her name again, his fingers tightening on her butt, she knew he was taking that tumble that had just flattened her. She wasn’t a big fan of a guy making loud annoying orgasm sounds, overreacting or in some way trying to prove his own prowess. Maurice grunted and moaned low so that the deep timbre moved over her skin like a warm massage. He gripped, then released her ass, gripped and released it again, until she felt like he was worshipping it. His body had gone rigidly still, except for a couple last, stilted thrusts and the pulsating of his dick still buried inside her.
Moments passed, and she finally turned so that her cheek rested on the pillows and she could thankfully catch her breath. It didn’t bother her that she was still on her knees, ass still in the air and in his hands. As far as she was concerned, she could die just like this and it would’ve been a reasonably good life. But he eventually pulled out and eased her down until she was flat on her stomach.
“Be right back,” he said before dropping a quick kiss on her left butt cheek and moving off the bed.
The sound of the bathroom door closing had her thinking she should probably get up, get dressed and head to her room before he returned. But when she flopped onto her back, the itchy feeling easing over her skin signaled a warning.
If she left, would that seem like running?
Admittedly, that had been the ultimate deciding factor in agreeing to this weekend with him. Of course, she hadn’t said that to him, nor had she really allowed herself to dwell on it, but now here it was, manifesting itself in physical reactions that her therapist advised was her body’s external warning system. Folding her arms over her chest, she ran her hands up and down her biceps, trying desperately to ease the discomfort.
She wasn’t running, not again. That wasn’t the answer to whatever was making her feel the need to bolt—it wasn’t totally clear to her what that was yet. It couldn’t be fear of anyone finding out what she and Maurice had done, because he’d been on point when he’d vehemently declared it was none of anybody’s business. On the other hand, she wasn’t the one in the media spotlight on a daily basis. Still, if he could push that obstacle to the side, she could, too.
Going back to her own room would give her space to reason with all these thoughts, to sort them out and get a grip on what was happening before tomorrow morning. She wasn’t going to run out on the weekend: she’d already agreed to stay, and she wanted to stay. But space, yeah, that might be good, and when she saw Maurice again, she’d be in control of her thoughts and her body once more. She w
as just sitting up, about to throw her legs over the side of the bed and get moving, when the bathroom door opened.
“You need anything? Something to drink, maybe? There’s a fully stocked fridge over there.” He came out naked, talking and walking around the room until he found the boxer briefs he’d been wearing.
She watched him push each leg through and pull them up over muscled thighs. When they covered his still semi-erect dick, she licked her lips. “Yeah. Um, I’m a little thirsty.”
Thankfully, his back was to her by now, and he couldn’t see her thirst went well beyond the I need a drink stage. Since a stealth getaway was obviously out of the question now, she slid off the bed and tiptoed around until she found her underwear. She pulled on her lace panties and grabbed her bra, hurriedly fixing the clasp. Just as she was about to turn the matching lace material around and slip the straps onto her shoulders, he was there.
“Here, take this and let me help you with that.”
The heat circling her body at his proximity was weird. She’d stood next to Maurice a kazillion times at the office, at a runway show, during last night’s dinner at the Golds’ house. Her body had never reacted to him this way before.
“I got it.” She didn’t step away from him as she wanted to, but she did continue situating her bra, the way she did every day of her life without his help. Turning to face him then, she accepted the canned soda he offered. “Thanks.”
She opened the drink, took a deep gulp and then reminded herself she was cutting down on her soda intake. He had a can, too, but his was beer and he chugged away, just like she’d done. Apparently, he was thirsty, too.
“Normally, I’m a go-all-night kinda guy,” he started as soon as he’d finished his beer and tossed the can into the trash. “But I was up late last night and then early this morning to take care of a few things before jumping on the road. So I’m gonna crash. You’re welcome to join me.”