The Hot One(51)

She lifts her chin and clasps my thighs. “Told you I had a good teacher.”

“Get up here, student,” I say, and offer her my hand. I tug her into my lap, and she sits on my half-mast dick. I wrap an arm around her and graze my lips against her forehead. But that’s all the time I’ve got for basking. Time to take care of my woman. I grab her hips, lift her up, and set her on the edge of my desk.

She arches a brow in question. I push up her skirt and spread her legs, catching a peek of black lacy panties. I drag a finger across them, murmuring as the pad of my finger slips over her wetness through the fabric. “Let me do that to you. Right here. With you sitting on my desk. Let me eat you out.”

She gasps like I’ve said the most shocking, scandalous thing. Maybe I have. We were always daring, always playing with fire in public. Even though this is private, it still feels dirty. The good kind of dirty.

But she shakes her head and slips off the desk, sinking back to my lap. “Not now.”

I frown. “Why not?” I dart my hand between her legs, rubbing her once more. I love how much of her slick heat has soaked through. She’s silky even with this tiny layer of lace between her flesh and my fingers. “Sure seems like you want it.”

“I do,” she says, but she pushes my hand away and looks me in the eyes. “I want it so much. But it makes me feel really vulnerable, and I want to be one hundred percent ready for that. I want to be able to let go completely and give in to it. You know how I love it when you do that to me.”

“I do know that.”

“And I want to be able to be in the moment completely.”

I pull her closer, my nose nearly touching hers. “You will be, angel. You won’t be anyplace else when I undress you, spread your legs, and bury my face between these beautiful thighs that I’ve been dreaming about. I don’t want anything but your complete abandon.”

She murmurs. “That’s what I want, too.”

I press a closed-mouth kiss to her lips. “Hey.”

She pulls back and meets my eyes. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for being open with me. For telling me that. That you’re not ready yet.”

“An old dog can learn new tricks.”

I sit up and beg. “Same here.”

Her lips twitch in a smile. “And thanks for letting me blow you in your office like the world is ending.”

Laughing deeply, I lean back in my chair. I drop a hand to her ass and squeeze her cheek. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Ruh roh,” she says, like Scooby Doo, and I’m glad she’s not worried. She shouldn’t be.

Tucking a finger under her chin, I raise her face, keeping her gaze locked on me. “I like you. A lot.”

“I like you, too. A lot,” she says, as she snuggles in closer. “It’s the sex, right?”

I crack up. “Yeah, it’s all the sex. I’m overdosing on all the sex.”

Her smile grows wider. “We are pretty good in that department.”

I knead those lovely cheeks again. “We were always good together. In every way. We can be good again, too.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Her smile disappears. “But it’s not just this part you like, right?” She gestures from my chest to her breasts.

“Your boobs like my pecs?”

She swats me. “You know what I’m saying.”

“Angel. It’s not just sex.” I rub my hands over her arms, reassuring her. “We haven’t even had sex, and I’ll wait months if you want to.” Then I lower my voice. “Though, I really hope we don’t wait months.”

She screws up the corner of her lips. “I was thinking more like ninety days?”

“You think I can’t last, but let me tell you something.” I slide my hand under her skirt and up her inner thigh, grazing the soft skin. “I know it would drive you crazy to wait that long, too.”

She whimpers, but then it turns to a little chuckle. “Pot. Kettle.” She moves my hand away. “Seriously, though. Tell me, Tyler. Is it just sex?”

I shake my head. “Woman, the way I feel is not just coming from how much I want to fuck you.”

“Or how much I want you to fuck me,” she tosses back, with a naughty little lilt to her voice that tells me all her worries have been assuaged.

“Exactly. There’s way more to this, and you know it.”



Later that day, I toss a crumpled up sheet of paper into the wastebasket and swivel my chair so I face Oliver. He’s slumped back on the couch with his navy tie loosened as we review contracts. “Let me ask you a question,” I say.

“Hit me.”

“You ever fallen in love when getting a blow job?”

Oliver cracks up, his hand on his belly. “Oh dear Lord. You have come to the right man with that inquiry.”

“That so?”

“Oh, yes,” he says confidently. “I’ve fallen in love when getting them, and when giving them. But that’s not all. I’ve also seen God, witnessed angels, traveled to the stars, and seen the light of distant planets.” I roll my eyes, but Oliver’s not done. He sits up straighter. “I’ll have you know I’ve also walked through the pearly gates and back.”