Well, it was still a bad idea. But now, it seemed very, very likely to happen, and I wanted it more than anything. From the way that Sanford bumped against me, from how his hands moved over me and pulled me close, I was certain that he wanted it, too.
"Mistake," I gasped out, when my lips were momentarily free for a few seconds.
He just pulled me closer, and his hand slid up my side, from my waist up to my bust. "Are you asking me to stop?"
Good god, no. Sanford's fingers brushed against my bosom, and I moaned as his fingertips slid over where my nipple poked out into the fabric of my bra, hyper-sensitive and crying out for his hand, his mouth, his kiss...
"I'll take that as assent," he murmured into my ear, biting at my earlobe.
I couldn't say no, didn't want to say no. The two of us staggered, a drunken four-legged organism, over to the bed.
Chapter Eighteen
*
Either my dry spell has lasted far, far too long, or Sanford is an actual god of sex.
Heck, it might be both, now that I think about it. My thoughts are finally starting to flow again, after being turned off for the last solid hour or so. I have gone a while since I've let a man carry me off to bed, or even since I've gone out with someone capable of carrying me anywhere. But I have had a few experiences before Sanford, and I am certain that they weren't anything near as good as this man.
We landed on the bed in a tangle of arms and limbs, both of us feeling up every inch of the other that we could reach. Sanford somehow twisted as we fell so that I came down on top of him, my knees landing on either side of his hips so that I straddled him. He immediately pulled me down for a kiss on top of him, wrapping one hand around the back of my neck and tangling his fingers in my hair. His other hand slid up along my side, pushing my shirt up towards my armpits.
After that kiss ended, I angrily pulled off this shirt, tossing it aside. How dare it encumber me, blocking Sanford from tracing a line of kisses down across my neck, along the line of my collarbone or over my chest!
With my shirt off, I was naked from the waist up except for my bra, and I saw Sanford's eyes greedily track towards it. "Damn," he whispered aloud, as he pulled me back down on top of him again.
I almost laughed in pure happiness. Hah, take that, Carly who was on the cheer team back in high school! The bad boy has found a new girl's boobs to admire, now!
A moment later, Sanford's fingers made quick work of my bra's clasp, and the undergarment slid off of me. Immediately, as the soft fabric fell away, his hands scooped up my breasts. He kneaded them, caressing my nipples and making them pop out like turkey timers, and guided me down so that his mouth could take them inside.
When his tongue found that first areola, any remaining thoughts drained out of my mind, like someone pulling the plug in a tub. Fire burst in my belly, coursing up my spine and flowing into secretive places that had been abandoned for far too long. I moaned, leaning forward and pressing down against his face until I could only see the top of his dark, curly-haired head.
I needed more, needed to show him the same pleasure that he now conveyed to me. My fingers, clumsy with desire, scrambled down across his chest, pulling open the buttons of his shirt. I probably tore at least a couple of them off instead of undoing them as I intended, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I'd get him another shirt, or fix it for him later. I needed to feel the heat of his bare chest beneath my fingers, run my hands over the dark, short little hairs as he moved beneath me.
For a moment, looking up at him, I paused as I noticed two tattoos across his chest, and I almost laughed at them. "I didn't know these were here," I said, tracing my line along one of the two tigers that snarled from atop his pectoral muscles.
He shrugged. "Like I said, I'm okay with cats." But he immediately transferred his attention back to me, and the fact that I'd also lost my top - and I quickly forgot all about those tomcat tattoos on him.
I pushed my hips down, grinding against his crotch as he flexed up against me. I felt him, hard and stiff and hungry for me, even through his jeans. I needed to release that masculinity, so that I could hold it in my hands, inside me...
"Patience," Sanford said to me as he took a breath between nibbles at my nipples, but I didn't have any remaining patience. I scooted down a little so that my fingers could find the button on his jeans, popping them open and yanking roughly at the zipper. Come off, damn pants!
And then he was out, hard and warm and alive in my hands, and we both gasped in unison.
If the women at the wine bar knew what Sanford was packing in his pants, they'd be flashing their tits at him the moment that he walked in. This thought skittered across my mind for an instant, a drop of water in a hot pan, before my desire swept it away. I tightened my grip around him, sliding my fingers back and forth and making Sanford grunt in arousal.
He didn't pull my hand away, however. No, he played dirtier than that - he transferred his attention to my jeans, although I had a few seconds' head start as he struggled to get them down over my round rump.
Still, he managed, and then I was the one gasping and writhing as his big fingers slid between my thighs and pressed up against my cotton panties. They were plain white, not sexy at all, but that didn't seem to slow him in the slightest. He pushed in, the curve of his hand fitting perfectly into me as he pushed all my buttons, wiggling those thick fingers back and forth, and I went mindless on top of him.
"Holy shit," I cried out, slumping forward as my arms gave out beneath me at the warmth and arousal of his touch. "Oh god, Sanford, no, wait! You're going to make me-"
"Yes," he hissed back, and I couldn't even muster up the control to point out to him that he'd interrupted me once again.
Ecstasy ripped through me, wiping out all of my control, dropping me down to land on top of the man, a soft, plump, shaking bundle of overexcited nerves as my mind shattered and I writhed against his fingers.
He rode with me, moved against me, his hand not pulling away. He kissed me, and his lips and tongue held such hot and fiery hunger that I could scarcely believe this was the same man who coldly scolded me a couple of weeks ago for hopping over his back fence.
"Oh my god, oh my god," I said, as I finally came back down to earth, or at least down from heaven to stand on the clouds.
"I'm not done yet," he replied, and his hand finally dragged off my sodden panties, making them vanish off the side of the bed. I didn't care where they went, didn't care if I never saw them again. I needed to be nude, to press myself against Sanford, feel his hard body on every inch of mine. I needed him to take me, dominate me, make me belong to him and use me.
He pulled himself up, muscles standing out and looking like a bronzed Greek god as he loomed over me. I didn't want to look down at my own body, pale and chubby and terribly out of shape, but I could drink in the sight of him forever. He leaned in and kissed me again as he moved on top of me, as his hips settled in between my thighs and my legs wrapped around his ass.
For a moment, I thought he would say something else. Maybe he was going to ask me if I was sure about this, or just warn me about something. Whatever it was, I didn't want to hear it.
I reached up and pulled his mouth down to mine, and his hips came along for the ride. They pushed down, and for just a second, I felt sharp resistance, so painful that I nearly screamed as he stabbed at me.
And then my body gave in and opened up to take him, and I shattered again as he filled me, slowly but surely consuming me as he slid inside.
I couldn't even tell how long the sex lasted, but it was amazing. By the time that he finally groaned and gave one last thrust deep inside me, collapsing down to press against me, his hot skin burning against my own, I was worried that I might never be able to walk again. It was totally worth it, of course, but still. He'd driven me numb with pleasure from the waist down!
"I think you broke me," I moaned out, my tongue feeling stiff in my mouth and scarcely able to form words.
"Same
to you," Sanford groaned out beside me. "God, the way you wrapped your legs around me-"
"The way you moved your hips up when you pushed in-"
"The way you kissed-"
"The way you taste-"
He turned his head just enough for one eye to gaze into mine. That dark eye looked hungry, even though his body was spent. "We should have done that the moment that you fell into my backyard."
Even though I didn't think that I'd be able to move without the aid of a wheelchair, those words sent one last tingle running down my spine, and I almost made a futile attempt to clamber up on top of him again. "Don't say things like that unless you've got the blood flow to back them up."
"Give me twenty minutes," he said, gritting his teeth with the effort of propping himself up on one elbow to look at my naked body, laid out on display for him like a buffet.
I smiled, but waved my arms in the air for a moment before managing to summon up enough strength to sit up. "Tempting, but I do need to get some work done today. And we should talk about this."
"Ugh, no," he complained. He pulled me over towards him, kissing one breast and nearly wiping my mind of all thoughts. "You did some work earlier, you said. Let's spend the rest of the day here, without any clothes. I'll get Winston to bring us some Gatorade or something."
Oh god, the thought of spending the entire rest of the day in bed with Sanford. We could cuddle, he could put that sharp tongue of his to other uses, we could even try that one position I saw in Cosmo once where the guy is standing up and holding the girl's legs up like-
"No, no, we really do need to talk about it," I insisted, although try as I might, I couldn't shake that image, wondering if it would truly feel as amazing as the magazine claimed. Sanford definitely had the height and strength to pull it off. I'd finally be able to brag to Della for once, instead of listening to her gallivanting stories with envy.
"Fine." Sanford sat up, and I tried to not gape at the beauty of his rippling muscles. "What do we need to talk about?"
"Us. This." I gestured down at the bed, the sheets hopelessly twisted and ruined by the writhing of our naked bodies on top of them. "This is probably breaking every single business rule in the book."
"Is there something in your contract against sleeping with a client?"
"Well, no," I admitted. "But only because it's never come up before. And you can bet your ass that I'm adding in a clause about that for all future jobs."
He smirked at scoring a point, but I pressed on. "But really, this is dangerous. What if I don't make a business decision in your best interests, because I'm just thinking about how much I want to jump your bones?"
Sanford nodded, although I suspected that he wasn't really listening to my issue. "Got it. We get wild and naked with each other first thing every morning, so that you won't spend the entire rest of the day thinking about how much you want me to come up behind you and bend you over so that I can-"
"No, no, no!" I yelped, as my body screamed out yes at the thought of what he described. "We need to keep this separate! If we're seeing each other, well-" I thought of saying that it wasn't a good idea, but my clitoris somehow reached up through my throat, grabbed my tongue, and warned it not to say another word if I ever wanted to feel another orgasm in my life.
Sanford sighed, however, and nodded. "I do see your point. We need to have some rules, maybe. Keep this controlled."
I wasn't sure about 'controlled', but I nodded. "Before or after work hours, but nothing between nine and five," I suggested. "Business hours are for business only."
"Excepting today, of course."
"Well, yeah," I nodded. "The rule starts tomorrow morning."
"Great." And then, only as I started to see the hole in this plan, Sanford reached greedily out for me. "So I've got the rest of today to get all of this out of my system. Now, come here and let me try something I saw online once..."
I meant to argue, but it turned out that Sanford had seen something very similar to what the Cosmo magazine described, and, well, I owed it to my long-deprived vagina to give it a try while the option was on the table...
Chapter Nineteen
*
I don't know what Heaven is like, but the next few days was about the closest that I've ever experienced.
I spent my days working my way through the cluttered second floor, no longer feeling quite so worried over the sheer number of antiques that needed to be examined, researched, and photographed. There wasn't as much furniture up here, and the items weren't as haphazardly stacked in corners and piled up under sheets, but the overall number was higher, with many little objects that I needed to examine with a high-powered flashlight and a magnifying glass.
Alone in these old rooms, exploring all of these items, most of which were older than I was, I remembered what I enjoyed about my business. I always liked learning about old bits of history, and these rooms were almost perfectly preserved, like stepping through a window to an earlier time period.
But just as much as I enjoyed my days at work, I liked what came next even more.
I'd usually wrap up towards the end of the afternoon, packing up my computer and camera and making a careful note of which items in the current room I'd examined, and what I still needed to check out. I'd stow my computer and camera in my bag, and would then head downstairs, in search of my men.
I usually found them in one of the sitting rooms. Now that we'd pulled most of the furniture out of the roughly stacked piles, Winston had gone to the trouble of cleaning some of the larger pieces, setting them up probably in the same way that the room used to look. I usually found Sanford sitting on one of the couches, his feet propped up without a second thought on top of some fragile end table worth thousands of dollars and with a book or his laptop computer sitting on his lap.
More often than not, as well, I found a large orange lump of fur sitting next to him, curled up and snoozing or loudly purring as Sanford's fingers idly scratched at the spot just behind his ears. Admiral Whiskers, it seemed, had found a new best friend. Maybe he knew about those two tiger tattoos on Sanford's chest.
I pointed this out one time to Sanford, wondering if he'd deny any connection to the fat, lazy cat. He just shrugged, however, as if it wasn't a big deal.
"I get along with most cats," he offered. "He doesn't pester me, and I don't demand much of him. It's a good relationship."
I tried not to read anything into that comment. Fortunately, Sanford immediately put his book aside and tugged me down onto the couch, helping to distract me from thinking about his earlier words.
"Wait, not here!" I protested as he nibbled at my earlobe and his fingers roamed up inside my shirt to undress me. "This couch is more than a hundred years old, and it's really valuable!"
"So? Seems like a great place to have sex," he whispered back, and something about the combination of this argument, plus the feel of his sun-warmed body against mine, made it especially hard to argue back.
I landed on the couch beside him, and Whiskers hopped off at the disturbance. He glared back at us, annoyed that we'd dared to disturb his nap, but eventually settled down in a sunbeam a few feet away when we didn't seem likely to move off the couch so that he could reclaim his old spot.
"Okay, fine," I gave in, as my bra mysteriously popped open and slid down off of my shoulders. "But be careful! If you break this, you'll owe me the commission on it!"
"Maybe I decide not to sell it," Sanford said, his voice husky as he peeled my jeans off of me. "I could keep it, use it as decoration in my sex dungeon."
"You don't have a sex dungeon," I bluffed, watching eagerly as he peeled off his own shirt.
"I'm thinking of getting one. It seems useful."
Well, I couldn't argue with him any longer, not with him shirtless and ripped and glowing in the light streaming in through the mansion's big windows. Damn him and his sexy appearance, always throwing me off by making me want to have sex with him instead of argue and try and win an argument once in awhile.
Still, even though I was happier in the next few days than I'd been in a long time, Sanford did impose one rule on me that rankled at me.
"No one finds out about this," he insisted. "We can have as much sex as we want, but you can't tell anyone else - at the wine bar or anywhere else, none of your friends. This is a secret, stays just between the two of us. And Whiskers, I suppose."
I didn't laugh at this attempt at a joke. "What about that whole deal at the wine bar, pretending that we were together?"
He frowned at me. "We were just being friendly, not dating."
I rolled my eyes, but decided not to try and explain exactly what the other women had thought of us together. "Why?" I asked him instead, not confident in receiving a real answer.
I didn't get one. "My business is my own," he just answered. "And while I really like this-" his hand traced over one of my nipples, making it very clear what 'this' was, "-I don't want this getting out of hand. It's just a fling, nothing more."
I suppose that I should have been okay with that. After all, a fling was a lot more than I'd had in a long time, especially with anyone as mind-blowing as Sanford. I clamped down on my thoughts, telling myself to enjoy the moment, and that worked, at least for a while.
But I found myself dodging my normal after-work trips over to Vini, afraid that I'd end up giving away the secret of what was happening between Sanford and me. Della had the almost unnatural ability to ferret out any secrets that someone was keeping from her, and I knew that she'd be able to read me like an open book.
Della sent me several text messages, asking me why I wasn't coming by any more. I managed to convince her that I was swamped with all the extra work from the Winterhearst mansion, and that I just wanted to get through everything so that I'd earn my paycheck. She didn't challenge me, and I hoped that she bought it, but I felt awful for lying to my best friend about my other, more illicit activities.
Sculpting Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 2) Page 30