Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(90)

I do what I’m told, keeping my tight grip of his heavy sack and opening my mouth, maintaining our eye contact. He pistons his fist back and forth, the muscles in his neck bulging, and on a stifled cry, he rests the broad head of his cock on my lower lip and releases into me, hot, creamy liquid hitting the back of my throat and coating the inside of my mouth. I swallow impulsively.

His strokes slow and I loosen my vice lock around his sack, dragging my hand, palm up, between his thighs until I meet his slow caresses. I curl my hand around his fist and we work him down together as I lap up the salty essence of him pouring into my mouth.

‘I want one of those every day for the rest of my life.’ His face is poker straight, his voice deadly serious, and I hope he means from me. ‘From you.’ he adds, as if reading my mind.

I smile and return my attention to his steel length that is still contracting through both of our hands. I circle and lick, ensuring I’ve got every last bit of him, and then drop a tender kiss on the very tip.

His fingers flex and I release him. ‘Come here.’ He reaches down and pulls me up against his chest. ‘I love you and your filthy mouth.’ he says quietly as he nuzzles my nose with his.

‘I know you do.’ I reach down to start tucking him back in and refastening his trousers.

He lets me finish securing him, and then grabs my hand, pulling me out of the elevator towards the penthouse door. ‘That was a complete waste of time. They’ll be off as soon as I get you inside.’

He lets us in and the smell of something lovely invades my nostrils. ‘Oh, dinner!’ I completely forgot about that. Thank God I turned the oven off, or we might have returned to fire engines and yet more damage bills.

He leads me into the kitchen and releases my hand to grab an oven glove. He pulls out an over cooked lasagna and dumps it on the side, shaking his head. ‘I employ a housekeeper and a cook and you still manage to burn dinner.’ He looks at me with an arched brow.

What with our screaming match and subsequent make up, I had forgotten about the poor woman who I was so inexcusably rude to. I will have to make amends with her. She probably thinks I’m a total bitch. ‘Will she come back?’ I ask guiltily.

He laughs. ‘I hope so,’ He pokes the crusty top layer of the lasagna. ‘Cathy’s lasagna is delicious.’ He focuses his eyes back on me. ‘It looks like I’ll have to find something else to eat.’

He pushes the lasagna away from him and slowly stalks towards me, his hungry, green eyes full of promise and pleasure. He doesn’t slow his pace as he nears me. He wraps his arm around my back and carries on walking with me held tight against his chest. I reach up and fan my fingers through his soft, messy mop and frown when he bypasses the stairs, heading for the terrace.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask as I watch the stairs pass.

‘An alfresco f*ck,’ He pushes his lips to mine. ‘It’s a pleasant evening. Let’s not waste it.’

He carries me onto the terrace and across the limestone slabs to the raised decking area, the sounds of London by night clear in the cool evening air. I’m placed on my feet before he starts unbuttoning my blouse, his big fingers struggling with the tiny gold buttons, his concentration frown tickling his forehead. I reach for his trousers and start undoing his belt and flies. Then, starting at the bottom of his shirt, I undo each button slowly until his delicious chest is warm under my palms. I circle his nipples with my thumbs as he reaches the final button of my blouse before moving to my trousers.

‘Show off.’ he mutters, his lips finding mine as he starts feeling for my trouser fastening. It’s cruel, but I let him search. He feels around the front and then moves his hands to the back, and when he has no luck there either, he growls. ‘Where’s the zipper?’ he moans against my lips.

I collect his hands from my back, guiding them to the side fastening of my trousers, and he makes swift work of getting it down and lifting me so I can kick my shoes off. He drags my trousers down. ‘Yet another reason for dresses only.’ he complains as he pushes my blouse off my shoulders. ‘Anything that stops me from getting to you fast has to go.’

I smile to myself. Now he is trampling my wardrobe.

The cool air attacks my skin, puckering my already solid nipples further. He steps back from me and kicks his Genson’s off, before removing his socks, trousers and the rest of his shirt while running his shimmering eyes up and down my body.

‘Lace.’ he says approvingly, and then he slowly drags his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free and ready, yet again. I want to drop to my knees and take his deliciousness in my mouth all over again, but the urgent thump in my own groin is demanding attention. I reach around my back and unclasp my bra, letting it fall to the wooden floor and within a second, his body is pressed up against mine and he’s breathing in my face.

I feel him slip a finger into the seam of my underwear and brush across my clitoris, prompting my head to drop to his chest and my hands to grab his arms, steadying myself as his touch sends electric shots to every nerve ending.

‘Wet.’ he says, all low and rough, extending the word as he rolls the tip of his finger around and around, applying a little pressure when he reaches the top. ‘Just for me?’

It’s a question that he wants an answer to. ‘Just for you.’ I pant.

The satisfying rumble that escapes his lips vibrates in the evening air. I will always be his.