by Ember Leigh
Her hands found his head between her legs, grabbing a fistful of hair as he worked her. Legs splayed open and pelvis arched toward his head, she was the poster child for naughty tennis as he continued his sinfully pleasurable task.
He moaned from between her legs as he alternately licked and flattened her clitoris and then planted a tender kiss on her inner thigh. The amused look on his face told her she must have been a million miles away.
“You are really good at that,” she said, voice choppy. “What school did they teach that in?”
“The Los Angeles School for Cunnilingus.” He grinned, nuzzling her thigh with his cheek.
“I bet you graduated top of your class, right?” She inhaled sharply as his tongue made contact with her clit once more, and then trailed down to her hot pussy. Juices, or maybe his own saliva, dribbled down her thighs, staining the bed. He probed once and then twice with his tongue, prompting a deep and gravely moan.
“You taste so good,” he murmured, then plunged his tongue deep inside. His thumb made slow circles over the swollen nub as he tasted her, and after a few moments she was too close to the brink.
“I want you inside me.” She struggled to pull him away from her aching, dripping pussy. “Come here.”
He eased himself between her legs, the heat of his abdomen sinking into her core. If anyone interrupted them now, she’d get violent—even if it meant rendering Bridgette unconscious with an elbow between the eyes, or temporarily damaging her professional relationship with Gary.
“But I love the way you taste.” His warmth was delicious on top of her, a sensation she wouldn’t mind prolonging for much longer than their time on the island. His cock poked and prodded her swollen clit, eliciting gasps from her each time it made contact. “I could eat you out forever.”
“If you did that, you’d hardly have time to run your empire,” she said, voice still choppy and breathless. “At least schedule a little time for work and responsibilities.”
He laughed through a kiss. When they parted, Paige wrapped her legs around his hips, heels locked. Her thighs could serve as a vice if needed. Especially if he tried to get away.
“If you’re in my presence, I don’t think I’ll have much interest in work and responsibilities.” He cupped the side of her face, fingers tangling in her hair.
“I can’t imagine you’d shirk your duties,” Paige said, rocking in circles against him, loving the pulses of satisfaction this provided in the midst of their breathless conversation. “Not Josh Lambert.”
He pulled away, though Paige wasn’t sure if it was in an effort to avoid the inevitable ribbing, or if he too felt like bones would start snapping if they didn’t fuck immediately. Josh stepped out of his boxers. His erection bobbed heavy and fat in front of him.
Paige took it all in and couldn’t decide on a single word to describe it. Heavenly? God like? Fucking perfect? Nothing even came close, and that made her both desperate to reach the finish line and unwilling to ever leave this exact moment.
Their eyes met. Josh’s eyes were dark with passion as he leaned forward and slid her tennis skirt over her hips and down her legs. “God knows I’d love to fuck you in this skirt,” he whispered as he tossed it aside, “but I think I’ll have another chance to live that fantasy. This time, I want you totally naked.”
“Who says there will be a next time?” She couldn’t pass up a chance to provoke, even when her words were total bullshit. Deny this man? Not if she knew what was good for her. She held her breath as he tugged her sports bra off and tossed it to the side.
Naked before him, she loved feeling on display for him. He gobbled her up with his eyes, could feel the mental tongues licking all over her body.
“Don’t play coy,” he warned with a smile. “Twenty minutes from now you’ll be begging for the next time.”
“You hold yourself in such high esteem.” But she had a feeling he was right—the heat of his skin scorched her, made her feel both delirious and completely present. Whatever this guy had, it was extremely rare. Or maybe it was the way the two of them came together, the unlikely yet compatible union formed by their separate souls and energies and words.
Her fingertips drew maps over his body, tripped and stumbled over the muscles in his back, the curve of his ass, the round hills of his biceps.
“Your smartass tongue never stops.” He kissed her so passionately it stole her breath, and then he leaned back to align their parts.
“You want it, babe?” His voice was ragged at her ear.
“More than you know.”
Josh didn’t wait around. He sunk into her, burying himself to the hilt. Her mouth rounded, loving the stretching, the fullness, the thrill of the union. Josh’s breathing went choppy when the last inch was in. He kissed her sloppily on the mouth.
“Fuck,” she gasped, mind spinning with him buried deep inside, filling up every available inch of her. He took a shaky breath then started pumping, slowly at first, but faster as need overcame them, a frenzy emerging between the two of them that both surprised and relieved Paige.
“You feel so fucking good.” Josh’s voice came out ragged.
So fucking good didn’t even begin to cover it. He filled a need within her she wasn’t sure she’d ever acknowledged before, filled it like a puzzle piece she hadn’t realized she’d been missing all these years.
Her breasts jiggled as he pounded her, and he swooped down to take one tight bud in his mouth. Josh slowed for a moment, and palmed a breast in his hand.
“I’m close already.” His chest heaved. “You kill me, Paige.”
“I warned you,” she murmured, fingers skipping across his hips and around to his ass. Her brain buzzed, delirious at the fact that he was on top of her, deep inside her, totally enmeshed in every aspect of her reality at this moment. She had to keep reminding herself this was really happening.
Paige clenched her pussy muscles as he paused, and he sucked on his teeth, a ravenous look searing across his face. With a growl he flipped her onto her belly. She loved that he could toss her around so easily and wiggled her butt in the air expectantly.
“What now, Josh?”
He palmed the curve of her ass. Kissing the small of her back like a preamble, he grabbed her at the hips and pulled her back toward him on all fours.
“You look good like this.” He rubbed the tip of his cock over the crease of her buttocks. “But you look good no matter what.”
His words sunk into her. Between the husky roil of his voice and his tight, lower abdomen pressed against her ass as he rubbed his cock over her pussy, she could come right there.
“Come on, Josh,” she choked out, clenching with anticipation as his dick connected roughly with her swollen clit. “I need it.”
He licked his thumb and pushed it against the tight star of her asshole. She inhaled sharply and tensed, but he shushed her. “I’m not going there, unless you want me to.”
“Not this time.” She loved the pressure of his thumb against her asshole. “But you can try a little further.”
He made a small noise of pleasure as he wiggled his thumb against her until the tip of his finger popped inside. She gasped, feeling herself clenching even more with anticipation. God, the man could push all her buttons and then some. If he didn’t fuck her senseless soon, she’d go crazy.
“Come on, Josh,” she said, her heart scaling the wall of her throat like a rock climber. “I can’t take it anymore.”
He palmed her ass with his free hand, moaning low and guttural. The tip of his cock nudged her pussy, made contact with the heat and slickness there, and he slid in easily. He groaned as he buried himself once more, finding even more depth from the new angle.
Paige grabbed fistfuls of the comforter as he pumped into her, moving slowly at first as she acclimated to the new position but then harder as she was able to tolerate more. Her head spun—Josh pounding her from behind, thumb tight in her asshole, the quick bursts of air from their lips as he fucked her sensel
ess, the feel of him, ramrod stiff and deep, fucking her from the perfect angle. She squeezed her eyes shut as the familiar sensation of hot pleasure started to climb from her core. She moaned loud and low, lifting her pelvis to find a new level of depth for him to explore.
“Fuck,” he panted, never stopping his rhythm, “I’m ready to come.”
“Me too,” she choked out. “But I want you to come inside me. I want to feel it.”
“You sure?”
“I have an IUD, it’s more than fine. Just fuck me harder.”
He accelerated his pace, their skin slapping together at a frenetic pace. She gripped the comforter beneath her so tightly her knuckles turned white, and then the gates opened to release the bursting, churning fireworks of pleasure, erupting in her groin and spreading through every cell in her body. She screamed, arching against him as he pounded her into the depths of her climax.
Josh groaned as he came, his voice choppy and low as his steamy cum filled her.
Their breathing slowed as they rode the waves of pleasure from its highest peak to the pleasant aftermath. Paige’s breath came out in a shaky tumble as she crumbled to the bed.
Josh wrapped his arms around her small frame, pulling her close.
Paige was completely drained in the best way possible. Her head was full of nothing and everything at the same time, her pussy buzzing pleasantly as the aftershocks receded. She mustered a smile.
“Damn,” he whispered, moving a piece of hair that had fallen across her face.
“You got that right,” she said, voice sticking to the back of her throat. The man had satisfied her in a way she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before. Moving any limb on her body right now seemed impossible.
“Do you mind if I stay a bit?” He looked suddenly shy.
She cracked a grin. “Please stay.” The guy was cute, especially after giving her a mind-blowing orgasm.
They kissed softly and a new wave of post-coital laziness overcame her, the kind that induced marathon snuggle sessions. She cuddled up to him, happy that he didn’t seem inclined to do much else either.
“Let’s see how long we can rest,” he murmured sleepily, hooking his arm around her. “Before someone comes crying wolf or post-production…”
“I’ll take what we can get,” Paige murmured, finding a comfortable nook between his bicep and chest. His fingertips trailed up and down her arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
It wasn’t long before something hard nudged at her hip. She blinked in surprise at him. “Already? Really?”
His cheeks flushed and he laughed. “Sorry, babe. You’re sexy as hell, if you didn’t know it by now. What do you expect?”
She dragged her fingertips down his chest, over his tight abs and down through the tangle of hairs at his low belly. Tracing the swollen ridge of his cockhead, her laziness disappeared in a puff. “Why don’t we have a little more fun before we take our nap?”
****
Josh awoke with a start. Slivers of moonlight trickled through the skylights, casting silvery patterns over Paige breathing rhythmically beside him, buried deep in the covers.
He grumbled as he reached for his phone, which he’d shut off at the beginning of their afternoon together. How many voicemails would be waiting, how many fabricated emergencies on Bridgette’s behalf? He’d only meant to turn it off for a couple hours, not for an entire work day.
His stomach knotted in anxiety as the phone came to life. Their afternoon had turned into the evening which had turned into night. They’d finally fallen asleep sometime after dusk, once countless rounds of pleasure had come and gone in a delightful blur.
Whatever consequences awaited him now, they were worth the time he’d shared with Paige—that much was for certain. Even if it never happened again, his time with this incredible woman was worth any backlash or missed phone calls.
His heart sank as his phone loaded voicemails, sounding like a metronome as it buzzed with each new notification.
Josh stood shakily, still exhausted from all the activity in their jam-packed afternoon and evening, legs as weak as taking the first tentative steps after a childhood bout of mono.
Paige turned onto her side. He needed to get back to his room and assess the damage. The boss was never supposed to be disconnected, not even during vacation, a truth he knew far too well. He hadn’t expected to doze off. Nor had he expected to spend the day giving and receiving orgasms with Paige Alexander.
He tugged his shorts on, hunted down his T-shirt from the corner of the room, and blew Paige a kiss before he left. The hallway was dimly lit and silent. He hurried to his own room and flipped on all the lights, half-convinced Bridgette would be waiting for him on his bed with a knife in hand.
But the reality was somehow worse. The first three voicemails were from Bridgette, wondering where he was and if he could assess her wardrobe choices for the next day’s filming. The fourth was from Gary, asking if he had made a decision about hosting. Voicemails five and six were Bridgette again, more desperate since he hadn’t gotten back to her. Voicemail seven was from one of the writers with a question about a political joke being perhaps, given the most recent current events, too risqué. Voicemails eight and above were Bridgette again, each one with less control. He didn’t listen past the tenth voicemail, where she’d resorted to accusations and assumptions. Most of them involving Paige and his penis.
As soon as he’d finished the last voicemail, the phone rang.
Bridgette.
His stomach knotted. The time was now, no use putting it off until tomorrow when she might actually show up with a knife to his bedroom.
“H’lo?” He feigned a groggy voice.
“Well for fuck’s sake, it’s about time.”
“Hey, Bridge…”
“Where the fuck have you been all day?”
“Resting,” he said, pacing the room as he talked, struggling to figure out the details of his story. “My phone died and I didn’t realize it. I just got some of your voicemails. I’m sorry I missed your calls.”
“Yeah, you better be. Way to drop the ball! Now it’s after midnight, and I haven’t even gotten any rest because I’ve been worried sick about you and clueless about what to do for tomorrow’s show.”
He massaged his forehead. If Paige were in her spot, she would have taken the reins instead of waiting for his command. “Were you able to get anything squared away for tomorrow?”
“Hell no! Not without you. I count on you, Josh. I don’t trust anyone else on this island. So no, while you were off doing God knows what, planning came to a standstill. You’re the boss, remember? It doesn’t get done without you, and when you’re nowhere to be found, nothing gets done.”
Her voice was so caustic his ears almost bled from listening to her. He sighed, fighting the urge to throw the phone into the wall. “I’ll be on set around seven tomorrow to get everything squared away. There can’t be too much that needs to be arranged. You get to sleep, and I’ll take care of the details.
“The script is already done. I’ll just need to fine-tune some of the transitions. The guests are confirmed, all will be fine. Whenever you get to the set, I can look at your wardrobe choices and we’ll coordinate from there. Sound good?”
Bridgette huffed through the phone and was quiet a moment. “You better make sure it goes off without a hitch. I can’t believe you dropped the ball like this.”
“I didn’t drop the ball.” His voice cracked as he struggled to remain calm. She had no idea what it took to run a production like this, much less what it took to get to a position like his. He could run things from his sleep—Josh was a hardened professional, and phone off or on, made sure his projects ran smoothly before taking the time to excuse himself like he had earlier that day.
“Sure felt like it,” she spat.
“My phone was off, and I apologized for that.”
“I noticed the New Yorker was missing all day too,” she said. “Were you two off someplace together?�
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“I told you. I was resting. I have no idea what she did with her day. Just let it go. Get some rest.”
She huffed one last time. “Fine. But Joshi, you didn’t even ask me if I was feeling better.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, Bridgette…are you? It certainly seems like it to me.”
“I’m well enough to host tomorrow. In fact, I’m feeling better all around. Do you want to come over now and we can work through some of the transitions for tomorrow?”
“It’s best if we rest.” Any further dose of Bridgette right now would completely wreck the high from his evening with Paige. “I’ll be up extra early to take care of it all. I just want to go to bed now.”
He could feel her dissatisfaction through the phone. “But I thought you rested all day?”
“I still need more. Looks like that bug of yours got into my body too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She made a small noise in response, and the line went dead, leaving Josh with a thick knot of apprehension churning in his gut. Not only did Bridgette force him to walk a tightrope the likes of a circus act, she had unwittingly reminded him of another pending game changer—Paige didn’t know she wasn’t returning to hosting.
Gary’s voicemail had alluded to his hope his client would stay in the spotlight, as he and anyone with eyeballs knew was best. Gary’d witnessed part of his argument with Bridgette the day before and been charged with the task of keeping Paige under the illusion she still had a chance to continue hosting. He was hoping for it too, except he didn’t know about the deal either, nor just how futile a hope that really was.
Josh sighed again, feeling the remaining dregs of pleasure from the afternoon trickle out of his body and collect in a heap on the floor. Paige would be furious, Gary would be disappointed, and Bridgette would be smug and bossy as usual. Life at the top.
What continued to perplex him was the very distinct way he gave a shit about what happened with any of them. Obviously he had a stake in Bridgette’s future, but as for the other two…he cared. Gary was something close to a friend, and Paige was…well….she was something entirely different.