But he doesn’t. Instead, he moves closer, slides a hand to cup my cheek, and bends his head to kiss me.
His lips are cool and surprisingly soft. After my little speech, I half expected him to stick his tongue down my throat, throw me onto the bed, and just take his pleasure from me. But to my surprise, he kisses me gently, pressing his lips against mine as tenderly as if we’re teenagers on a first date.
I resist the urge to turn up the dial, close my eyes, and give myself over to the kiss. He smells amazing, expensive, the way I’d imagine James Bond smells. Mmm, I could eat this guy on a waffle for breakfast. He’s like warm caramel, all sweet, salty goodness, rich and smooth, and oh-so-bad for you, but you don’t give a damn because he tastes so good.
We open our mouths at the same time, and I welcome the slide of his tongue against mine. I lift a hand and place it on his upper arm—oh yeah, those biceps are as hard as I thought, firm enough to dig your teeth into.
I bend briefly to place my glass on the table and he does the same, and then I return to him and kiss him while I slip my hands beneath his sweater. Yowza, he has a six pack, every muscle defined like on an old Hollywood version of a Roman breastplate. I skate my hands across his ribs up to his flat nipples, and circle them with my fingers. He shudders and exhales against my lips.
He wants me, I don’t know why, but clearly, he’s as turned on as I am, as ready for me as I am for him. If he’s half as good as I’m hoping, I’m in for a terrific evening. I’m going to fuck this guy senseless, give him thirty minutes, then fuck him again. And possibly again, if we can manage it before he has to go.
Opportunities like these don’t come around very often, and I’m determined to make the most of this one.
Chapter Five
Caleb
Roxie’s hands are cool on my skin, and the feel of her fingers exploring my ribs and muscles makes me shiver. When she tugs at the bottom of my tee, I take a handful at the back of my neck and pull it off. She blows out a breath and spends a moment admiring my torso. I’m happy to let her, because I’m hoping to do some admiring myself in a minute.
She’s like a firecracker—a ton of sizzle packed into a tiny container, exploding into my world with a burst of colorful sparkles. She’s so… alive. And she makes me feel alive, too, which is nothing short of a miracle after the last few months.
I want to rip off her clothes, throw her onto the sofa, and thrust her into next week, but I rest my hands on her hips and take a moment to question whether I’m doing the right thing. We’re supposed to have a policy at work of no banging the temps, and I know it’s not great business sense to get involved with someone at the office. But both Harry and Sebastian got to know their partners there, and I work so hard that the only women I get to meet are at functions, where they gather together and survey the room to see which eligible bachelor they can cast their net at next. Being with Felicity has scarred me for life. I don’t know that I ever want to go out with another woman like her. And that’s one reason why I tell myself to fuck caution, and lower my lips to Roxie’s scarlet ones again.
She slides her hands up my chest and around my neck, lifting onto her tiptoes to press against me. Aaahhh, this girl tastes good. I thought she might smell of stale cigarette smoke and beer, but all I can smell is her fresh, flowery perfume, warmed through by her body as she performed.
My hands are on her hips, but I slip them around her waist and up to her ribs as we kiss. She feels tiny—she’s a lot shorter than I am, and slender with it. I know I’ll be able to pick her up easily. She runs her hands over my biceps and across my shoulders, so I think she’s enjoying the difference between us too. I span her waist with my hands, tempted to touch her breasts, but I make myself wait.
Moving back, she gives a short laugh. “Man, you work slow!”
“A gentleman doesn’t rush things,” I tell her.
“You might not have noticed, but I’m no lady.” Her eyes are feverish, and she’s breathing heavily. She takes the bottom of her vest in her hands and peels it off, then undoes the catch of her bra behind her back and pulls the straps down her arms to reveal a pair of gorgeous breasts.
Moving out of my reach, keeping her eyes on mine, she grins and unbuttons her jeans, then peels them down her legs, standing on them and turning them inside out as she struggles to get them off. When she’s done, she kicks them away, then takes off her black panties.
Now naked, she takes my hand and pulls me over to the sofa. She pushes me down onto it. And then she straddles me, sliding down my thighs until her mouth is inches from mine.
“There,” she says, her breath whispering over my lips. “That’s better.”
I laugh and cup her breasts, enjoying their softness, and brush my thumbs over her nipples. “Impatient little madam, aren’t you?”
“I don’t see any point in wasting time.” She kisses me, and I lean back on the sofa and revel in the feel of this naked girl in my arms. I run my hands over her baby-soft skin while she slides her tongue against mine and teases my lips with her teeth.
“Mmm.” She rubs her nose against mine. “I like how you look at me.”
“With my tongue hanging out, you mean?”
She laughs. “No. With… I don’t know… admiration, I guess.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You have a fantastic body.” I palm her breasts again, which are fuller than I would have expected for her frame.
She shrugs. “I’m not used to it, that’s all. Most guys are all ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am.’” She kisses me again, threading her hands into my hair.
I think I understand. I doubt that many of the men she meets have the time or inclination for foreplay. She’s young, and it’s possible she’s not even been in a serious relationship yet. If most of her encounters have been short and sweet, I wouldn’t imagine she’s had many lazy Sunday mornings in bed, the kind where you take hours exploring each other.
That’s not what this is, either, but that doesn’t mean we have to set the timer. I kiss down her neck to her breasts, and with the tip of my tongue I draw a circle around the edge of her nipple several times before taking it in my mouth. The breath hisses through her teeth, and she clutches her hands in my hair, but I continue to take it slow, teasing both her nipples at my own pace.
Roxie holds her breath each time I suck, and when I glance up, I see her eyes closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I smile and reach around her for my glass of whiskey. I take the ice cube in my mouth, crunch it up, and then before she can guess what I’m going to do, I close my mouth over her nipple.
She squeals, but I stay there and suck until it peaks in my mouth, feeling like a long, hard bead. When I finally lift my head, her eyes are dazed, and she gives me a helpless look. “Mmm, Caleb…”
Heat floods through me—Jesus, this girl is so fucking hot. There’s a fraction of whiskey left in the glass. I tip it up and pour it across her collarbone, and it trails down over her breasts in gleaming amber streams.
“Fuck,” she says, but I put the glass down and then lick up the drops, running my tongue over her skin, lapping up the liquid and teasing her in the process.
She sighs and drops back her head, rocking her hips against mine. I’d like to take hours over this, but I’m only human, and I’m already rock hard and ready. I slide my hands up her thighs, then brush my thumb over her velvet skin and down into her folds. She’s wet, and I glide through her swollen skin, gather up some moisture, and smooth it over her clit. When I circle the pad of my thumb over the button, she moans against my lips and thrusts her tongue in my mouth.
I slip an arm around her and hold her tightly while I arouse her, because I know if I don’t, she’s going to be on me in seconds. She lifts her head, and I look deep into her eyes while I stroke her, still refusing to let her go. Her teeth tear at her bottom lip, but she doesn’t fight me—she succumbs to my touch, kissing me, dipping her tongue into my mouth, then moving back to watch me. Her eyes are full of emotion that she
refuses to express—I can see her vulnerability there, her awe, even, that I’m taking time like this to make sure she’s ready.
I’m hardly the greatest lover, but I like the way she looks at me as if I’m Casanova, as if I’m special because I’m taking five minutes to ensure she’s enjoying it, too.
Eventually, though, she kisses me and murmurs, “Please, I want you inside me.”
I’m not going to say no to that, so I watch her as she reaches over and grabs her purse, opens it up, and takes out a condom. I have some in my wallet, but I’m not going to complain at her thoughtfulness—I’m relieved to know she’s used to using protection.
I unbutton my jeans and, because she’s obviously not going to get up and let me finish undressing, I slide the zipper and push down my boxers. She mumbles something that contains a few swear words at the sight of my erection, tears open the packet, and hands me the condom. I roll it on, and then she shifts on top of me.
I hold her hips, and she stops moving and meets my gaze. As much as my body wants to plunge into her, I want to take this slowly. Can she read that in my eyes?
Chapter Six
Roxie
Caleb has possibly the largest, brownest, most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy, and as I look into them, I can see all his thoughts and dreams passing behind them, like fish in a tank.
His fingers are tight on my hips, and I can tell he wants me to go slow. Suddenly, I know he hasn’t done this for a while.
Why the hell not? He’s so gorgeous, he could walk out of a bar or nightclub with a different girl on his arm every night.
I’m not going to think about it now, sitting here naked astride him, with the tip of his erection pressing against my entrance. But I do nod, telling him that I’ll follow his lead and take it slow.
He releases my hips, sliding his hands around my back, and I rock backward and forward a few times, lubricating his length with my moisture. His gaze remains fixed on mine, and as I finally lower onto him and accept him inside me, his lips part and he exhales with a long aaahhh.
I close my eyes for a moment. Oh, wow, that feels good. I clench my internal muscles, enjoying his grunt of approval as I tighten around him. Mmm, yeah, I like that. I open my eyes again, and he’s still watching me, his lips curving up at the corners.
Slowly, I begin to move, sliding him in and out of me. Every part of my body feels hypersensitive, and it only increases as he continues to stroke me, his hands travelling down my back, around my ribs, over my breasts, and up to my shoulders. He seems to enjoy just touching me. His touch has an oddly reverential air to it, a worshipful quality that I can’t say I dislike. He has a way of making me feel special, which is bizarre considering I am very un-special, just an ordinary girl that the majority of guys don’t even look at twice, let alone men from Caleb’s social standing.
I doubt that most guys even look at my face, and they certainly never gaze into my eyes like this. When I kiss him, he closes his eyes, but when I move back, he watches me as if he can’t bear to tear his eyes from me. If I were the kind of girl who blushed, I’d be scarlet by now, but I’m not, so I just hold his gaze and move and let him stroke me.
I know I sound like a stuck record, but I’m just not used to this. I thought sex was about using the other person’s body until hopefully you achieved orgasm. If you’re lucky, the guy’s kind enough to help you out occasionally, but most of the time whether I come or not is down to me. Guys can usually come just by thrusting away, so I’ve always known it’s up to me to stimulate myself in the right places if I want to climax. I’ve got it off to an art now, so most of the time I do.
But hmm, it’s different tonight, with Caleb. He’s not going at it hammer and tongs, as my grandmother used to say, and he’s not looking over my shoulder with his gaze fixed on the wall, or screwing up his eyes as he pictures some big-boobed bimbo from a secret fantasy. He keeps teasing my nipples and kissing me and watching me, and when he drops a hand between us so he can arouse my clit with his thumb again, I realize he’s holding back, waiting for me to come first.
Holy fuck. What a gentleman.
“What?” he murmurs, smiling as I frown at him.
“Are you for real?” I rub a thumb across his lips.
He takes it in his mouth and sucks it before releasing it. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
I continue to rock my hips, but I don’t quite know what to say. When I told him he was right if he thought I like it rough and dirty, I meant it, and I fully expected he’d take advantage of that. But instead, he’s… holy shit… he’s making love to me.
My head spins. I’m on unfamiliar territory here, and I’m not sure I like it. Maybe it’s time I took things to the next level.
I kiss his mouth, then his cheekbone, up to his ear, and down his neck. Ohhh, he smells terrific, and I nuzzle him like a dog and touch my tongue to his skin to taste him. He sighs and tips his head to the side. My lips curving, I fasten my mouth on him and suck, hard.
“Fuck.” He jerks upright, and I sit back smugly, admiring the red mark darkening on his neck.
“Gonna have to wear a shirt and tie to the party tomorrow,” I tell him.
He stares at me, and then his lids lower to half mast, as if he’s realized that I’m trying to provoke him into picking up the pace.
Without warning, he slips an arm around me and tightens it, and then he pushes off the sofa. I squeal as he tips forward, landing me on my back on the carpet. Oh yeah. I wrap my legs around his waist, preparing myself for the inevitable hard fuck I’m about to receive.
But he lowers onto his elbows, makes himself comfortable, and then starts moving, giving long, slow thrusts while he kisses me, dipping his tongue into my mouth.
I’m puzzled, because I thought this was why he came home with me—I thought he was attracted to me because he wanted it hard and fast, and I look like the type of girl who enjoys that. But he continues to go slow, and when he lifts his head to look into my eyes, there’s amusement there, as well as a dark desire that makes me shiver.
“Come for me, Roxie,” he says in his deep, sexy voice. He kisses me, teasing my lips with his tongue and teeth, his hand skating over my ribs, over my breasts. He tugs on the nipples a little, then strokes down to my thighs, up over my waist. My whole body is humming—I’m surprised he can’t hear it.
Where he’s thrusting, he’s grinding against me, and I realize with some surprise that I’m going to come without having to touch myself. For once, I don’t have to fight for pleasure. This man’s bringing it to me, laying it at my feet, and as I start tensing inside, I see a smug satisfaction on his face, so he can obviously feel it too.
“Yeah,” he says with a sense of victory that’s just so hot, and that’s it, I’m coming, and I gasp and clench, conscious of his mouth covering mine as if he wants to capture every breath. I dig my fingers into his butt beneath his jeans and boxers, pulling him toward me, and revel in every pulse before I flop back onto the carpet, limp and panting.
Caleb continues to kiss me, though, still moving, still slow and steady, as he nibbles my lips, kisses down my neck, cups my breast, and teases the nipple with his lips. I feel like I’m in a warm bath, swimming in sensuality, and I stretch out before him, waiting for him to take his own pleasure from me.
But he takes his time, teasing, arousing, plucking at my nipples, grinding against me. Hot and holy fuck, he’s expecting me to have another orgasm, and the amazing thing is that slowly I feel my body responding again.
My breathing starts to grow uneven, and it’s only now that he increases his pace, filling the air with the sounds of sex—the slickness of him inside me, my gasps, his grunts—and I’m spiraling, I’m drowning in pleasure, and fuck, I’m coming again, and this time he joins me, thrusting hard, burying himself deep within me while I clench around him, this second orgasm even more intense than the first. I dig my nails into his back, and he stills and shudders. Ohhh, this guy is gorgeous, especially so while he’s coming,
and I force my eyelids open and watch him, enjoying every second of his bliss, every sharp thrust of his hips.
By the time it’s over, I’m a noodle, limp and floppy, and it seems he’s the same, because he withdraws and moves off me, then rolls onto his back on the carpet. We look up at the ceiling, panting and gasping for air as if we’ve been screwing underwater, and all I can think is Holy shit, that’s it, that’s done it, things are never going to be the same again, because I know that no man I sleep with now is ever going to match up to the guy lying at my side.
Chapter Seven
Caleb
For a long while, we lay on the carpet and stare up at the ceiling. I close my eyes as I wait for my breathing to slow, ripples of pleasures still traveling through me like a stone thrown into a pond. Aaahhh, that was good. I haven’t had sex for a while, that’s why. It couldn’t possibly be due to the gorgeous girl lying by my side.
I feel her shift, and I turn my head and open my eyes to see she’s rolled toward me and is watching me.
“Wow,” she says.
I smile. “I guess that’s better than ‘is that it?’”
“Caleb, honestly, I’m lost for words.”
I laugh and roll to face her, propping my head on a hand. “In a good way, I hope.”
“Mmm.” She meets my gaze, then looks down and examines her fingernails.
I study her fondly. I’ve kissed off most of her lipstick, and strands of her hair have escaped her clip and are curling around her face. She looks younger without her punk-style clothing. Her eyebrows are a light brown. I wonder what her real hair color is? It’s so black at the moment that I guess she dyes it.
I don’t know anything about this girl, but I find myself wanting to know more. What has made her into such a sharp, sassy, independent young woman? I get the feeling she’s had to cope on her own for a long time. Where is she from, originally? What job did she do before she came to Hearktech?
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