Eleventh Grave in Moonlight (Charley Davidson #11)(42)

“Is that a polite way of saying I’m so old, I’d have to be carbon-dated to figure it out?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s it exactly.”

“Okay, what about you, then? How old are you? You and Jehovah? And how are you brothers? Like, did you have a mom and dad?”

His brows cinched together, but only for a moment. “I don’t remember. I don’t think it works that way.”

“I’m sorry. What do you remember?”

He filled his lungs and sat back in his chair. “I remember I treated you like shit. And I know you don’t remember, because if you did, you’d hate me.”

“Doubt it. Why did you treat me so badly, then?”

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth in thought. “You know how in grade school a boy pulls the hair of the girl he likes?”

“You liked me? Wait. You pulled my hair?”

“You were, for lack of a better phrase, out of my league.”

I snorted before I realized he was serious. “I find that really hard to believe. Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

He studied me, then asked, “If you do ever remember, will you forgive me?”

I walked around his desk. Propped my ass against it. Studied him a long moment.

He let me.

How were this perfect man and I even in the same orbit? I was out of his league? Not likely.

He reached forward, put a hand on my thighs, and slid my skirt up until it bunched above my hips. Then he looked up at me. “Say yes,” he said, his voice smooth and deep.

“Yes.”

Anticipation fluttered in my stomach.

He propped me against the desk again and sat back, letting his gaze travel over me, stopping at my crotch, then continuing down my legs.

The outline of his cock through his jeans quickened my pulse.

Before I could do anything about it, he lifted my booted foot and braced it on the arm of his chair. Then he did the same with the other, anchoring it before reaching up and parting my knees. He took hold of my ankles, my boots only a few inches high, and sat back to study me again.

Thankfully, Sammy had closed the door. Otherwise the patrons would be getting dinner and a show.

He locked his intense gaze with mine. “Wet your fingers.”

I lifted a hand to my mouth.

“Not there.”

Surprised, I reached between my legs and slid my fingers inside my panties, my chest rising and falling as I pushed them inside.

“Farther.”

I pushed them deeper, the sensation swirling in the pit of my stomach.

His breaths grew labored as well. “Rub your clit.”

I did, the hunger I saw on his face more erotic than my own touch.

He watched a long moment, shifting in his chair as though his jeans were suddenly too tight.

Then he said, his voice deep and smooth, “Come.”

It was a simple command. I had never masturbated in front of anyone before. But the look on Reyes’s face, the desire shimmering in his eyes, convinced me I had absolutely nothing to lose.

I rubbed my clit with two fingers, watching as his erection grew more pronounced. As his hands clenched around my ankles. As his jaw flexed. When he reached up and slid my panties aside for a better view, arousal spiked inside me. My cunt was so swollen and sensitive at that point, the softest brush of his fingers would have pushed me over the edge, but he only watched.

He turned his head and sprinkled the inside of my knee with soft, feathery kisses. My skin was so tight, the endearments were almost painful. And I wanted more. I wanted his mouth on me. His cock in me.

But he only watched as I worked. At first. I’d started slow, but as the embers sparked to life and the fire spread, my fingers moved faster.

Unable to sit idly by, he stood between my legs, opened my shirt, and slipped my bra down, giving him access to my hardened nipples. He bent and seared first one, then the other with his mouth. His tongue scorched as he covered the crest and suckled.

The sensation was like a string pulling taut nipple to clitoris. One tugged at the other, and the pressure built. His audible breaths quickened with each stroke. I grabbed the side of the desk with my other hand and held on, shaking uncontrollably, until the familiar sting exploded low in my abdomen, so sharp it seized every muscle in my body, so hot it flooded every cell.

He wrapped an arm around the curve of my back and held me as I arched against him.

I had no idea if I’d been too loud, but when Reyes unfastened his jeans, I didn’t care if I’d screamed his name from the top of my lungs. He pushed between my legs, and his rock-hard erection slid easily inside me. The waves of orgasm were still pulsing in rhythm with my thundering heart, the aftermath exquisite, when his cock, so perfectly placed, coaxed a second one to rise and crest the instant he entered me, opening the floodgates again, spilling molten lava, sweet and hot and sensual, into my core, rewarding my body with the most delicious sensations on Earth.

But he didn’t move inside me. He held me tight against him, clamped down on me, rendered me immobile, and let the convulsions of my climax squeeze and massage his cock, milking him until he exploded. He grabbed a handful of hair. Pulled me tighter. Rocked against me. And groaned aloud. The combination so pleasurable, so ethereal, I almost came again.

We stayed locked together, riding the last of the waves down together, enjoying each other’s touch until the tremors subsided.