Sweet Rivalry (1001 Dark Nights)(24)

It’s an unexpected move that causes so many thoughts and fears and worries that have no place in the moment to scatter back into hiding as he lies like this on top of me, bent over the desk. Our hearts calm some, our breathing eases, and the warmth of his lips and coarseness of his beard are a comforting feeling against my back.

“I guess we have to move,” he murmurs after a bit followed by a chuckle.

And it’s not like I didn’t know we were in the office. On Alan’s desk. In the same place we’re to submit proposals in the morning that quite possibly could derail whatever this is between us here, but with my body satisfied, my brain begins to realize this.

“It’s a little late to worry about it now,” I murmur as he stands up and pulls out of me––both his warmth and the feeling of fullness gone at the same time.

“True,” he says at my back. “But considering I plan on doing that again within the hour, I think it might be best if we move it to a bed. Or a kitchen table. Or wherever the hell you want to have it so long as it’s not the office.”

I’m up off the desk in an instant, the dark promise of his words reinvigorating me as his low chuckle at my reaction resonates in the room around us.

Our eyes lock. Our smiles widen. And we stand there, spent, exhilarated, and enamored. Him in his dress shirt unbuttoned and undershirt pushed up to his armpits granting me only a partial view of those tattoos I want to lick. And me in my bra and heels and one leg in my skirt. We’re a picture of urgency and desperation. Of holding a torch for someone for years and finally getting the chance to light it and see if it works in the dark long enough to find your way to each other. Of desire recognized, attraction undisputed, and the need for more paramount.

The flash bang of lust between us has been taken care of.

Now I want to take my time with him.

Trace my fingers over his tattoos. Suck on his nipples. Feel his hips beneath me thrusting as I lower myself slowly, inch by inch down onto his cock.

“I guess we should get dressed to get undressed again, huh?”

“Hmm.”

It’s that sound from our past again. The one that lit the fire so long ago. The only difference though is when I hear it this time, I know what he means by it.

And this time I laugh.





Chapter Thirteen



Ryder




Her throaty moan fills the room. She’s still asleep but I slide my tongue up and down the pink of her * anyway. I tease the inside of her thighs with the coarse end of my beard. I blow on her clit, flick my tongue over it again and again before sucking on the little nub, earning me another sound.

“Mmmm. Feels so good.” Her murmur is groggy, and I know she thinks she’s dreaming this, but I really am licking her * and about to make her come.

Because we may have done a lot of things last night when we finally got back to her room––till all hours of the morning type of things––but the one thing I didn’t do was give her a good and proper beard burn. We were so lost in the moment, so damn desperate to have more of each other, that there were a lot of things we missed that I plan on making up for…but this was a priority.

Besides, what man doesn’t like to eat a little * for breakfast?

So I start the process all over again, but this time with a little more intention. The first one was an I’m-going-to-make-you-think-it’s-a-dream and this one is going to be the I’m-going-to-wake-you-up.

A part of me is hoping she doesn’t wake right up. Her scent, her taste, are so goddamn addicting that I don’t want to leave this bed. Or rather, I don’t want to leave my spot between her thighs.

So I lick again. I use my hands to gently push her thighs father apart, take my beard and tease her sensitive skin with it, and then begin fingering her with smooth, slow strokes to match my tongue’s rhythm on her clit.

She murmurs my name. One of her hands comes down to fist in my hair and push my face harder into her. So this time I dart my tongue inside of her, lick it around, and suck on the opening to her *.

I know the moment she fully wakes up. There’s a gasp in the room, a tensing of her thigh muscles and a tighter grasp on my hair as she tries to sit up. “Ryd—what—oh, God that feels good.” Her words fade to moans as she lifts her hips up into my face. My tongue and fingers work her to the brink, all the while making sure to let my beard leave its mark on her. That sting of coarse to smooth, of tough to soft, of me to her.

“That feels like heaven,” she says in that sexy rasp of a morning voice that hardens my dick as I think about how she took me in her mouth last night without a moment’s hesitation. How I know she was determined to suck me off and drink me dry, and so now I’m here to return the favor.

“What time is it?” she murmurs as I add an extra finger to the mix so I can stretch and fill and assault her nerves even better.

My fingers still, my tongue slips out of her, and I lift my eyes to meet hers over the mound of her *.

“Excuse me? Am I doing this so poorly you’re thinking about work?” I ask, half joking, half serious, and one hundred percent knowing she’s trying to control the situation.

I let her think she was in charge last night. I let her set the pace, let her say she wanted me, let her suck my cock like she was thirsty for more, and yet right now, this is me taking back that control.