Friction(55)

“Do you want me to stop?” I’d rasped. She shook her head, bucking her hips, tightening her pussy around me until my cock throbbed. I’d slapped her ass and she moaned. “Then don’t complain about it taking too long.”

I’m sure as fuck not going to let her know that I’ve never felt anything like her before either.

Rolling over, I reach out to her, pressing my fingertips into the dimples at the small of her back. She tosses her phone to the edge of the bed and smiles shyly over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go home and get dressed so I can—” She swallows down what she was saying thanks to the harsh squeeze I give her ass cheek. I move closer, cupping her between both hands, and she lets her head fall back. Her black hair swings over my fingers, covering my tattoos.

“Stop,” she pleads.

“Not until I get more.”

“And when the guys show up here and find me with you? Ash already thought something was going on when I had your shirt the other week. The last thing I want is for him or any of the others to find out about … this.”

She’s got a good point. Somewhere between that first night and this past Monday when I interrupted her conference call to make her come with my tongue and hands, we’ve slipped into something casual. We’ve only talked about it once, but we’ve verbally agreed that we can be adult about this. That we can still maintain professionalism and fuck. Still, I can do without my crew finding out I’ve been breaking my own rules and making use of the photo room with the marketing director for the last week.

“Do you want them to find out?” she questions, her soft voice and hopeful expression asking me for something I’ve got no plans to give.

“I’ll let you go home, Williams,” I mutter, ignoring her question. I drag her pillow over my face, and I’m smirking when I shove it aside. She forces a smile. “Everything in here smells like you. You and sex.”

She shivers but says nothing as she dresses in the same clothes I coaxed off her yesterday evening when she came to me twisting those pouty lips around filthy words. By the time she slides her heels on, nervously working her fingers through her hair to tame it, I’m sitting up in the bed with several pillows propped behind my head.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, and I motion her to me. She gives me a hesitant look as she returns to the bed.

“The next time I wear that ring and fuck you,” I say, pulling her onto me so that she straddles me, “I want to be in your tight arse, Lucy.”

She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “I’ve never done that.”

“Then I’ll be your first.” Reaching out to her, I rub a lock of her hair between my fingertips, inhaling the scent that rises from it. “And you’ve no idea how much it turns me on knowing I’ll be the first to feel you there.”

She lets out a choked sound and closes her eyes. “And yet we keep saying we’re not going to do this anymore.”

Releasing her hair to fall over her breast, I cup her face and feather my thumbs over her skin. She’s soft—so fucking soft. “We keep saying that, but then I remember the way you taste and feel.” She arches into me, so I continue, “Now that we’ve started, I don’t know how to stop.”

That makes me fucking weak.

This doesn’t have to affect us professionally, I remind myself, knowing what a goddamn idiot I am for thinking it. My working relationship with Lucy Williams was ruined the moment I told her what I wanted from her. It’s just a matter of time before shit hits the fan and she quits, so I’m determined to take everything she’s willing to give me now.

I’m a selfish prick for even acknowledging that, but she’s a smart woman.

She’s thinking the same thing.

“I don’t know how to stop either,” she whispers, bringing my focus back to her face. She dips her gaze to where the sheets stir between us, indicating my desire to be balls deep inside of her once more. Licking her lips with the same tongue that drove my cock crazy just hours before, she shimmies off the bed and turns her back to me to finish buttoning her pants. “I really should get home, though.”

Before we do something we’ll regret.

She doesn’t say that, but the words hang in the air.

“Go home, love, so you can come back. Then all I’ll think about for the rest of the day is the way you looked after I showed you the waterfall.” Though she’s not staring directly at me, I know she’s blushing, and I can’t help but smirk at the memory hurtling through my head. After round one last night, she asked about the position I brought up during my interview with the blonde who hasn’t stopped emailing since. While I’d rather jerk my dick with sandpaper than pursue someone as pushy as Allene, I was more than eager to show Lucy the position. By the time I was through, she had come twice.

Then, for good measure, I made her cunt quiver for me a third time before I turned her over on her belly and took her from behind.

She turns to look at me, so I get off the bed, not giving a fuck that I’m stark naked when I approach her. I frame her face between my hands and bend my head until our foreheads touch. “I’m not going to get shit done today thinking about what we did in here all night. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Good thing you’ve finished B’s table then,” she whispers breathlessly, and I roll my eyes up toward the ceiling. Bailon had rushed me for weeks on the goddamn thing, and now he’s taking his time accepting delivery. Her words are a reminder that I need to call him today because—paid for or not—the table is taking up too much space in my workshop and I need it gone to fulfill more orders. When I tell her this, she bites her lip and shrugs.