The Price Of Scandal(62)

I couldn’t come like this. It was a physical impossibility. And then the orgasm exploded out of nowhere, fluttering around that very talented tongue as it danced and dipped, tasting me.

I slapped my hand against the marble as it rippled through me. It wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed him.

“Derek, please,” I begged.

“You want my cock, love?” he whispered between deft licks.

“Yes,” I hissed.

He eased back from me, the echo of the orgasm still drumming through my system. I straightened from the table and tore at my shoes. He rose, watching me with those ocean blue eyes. His fingers worked his tie free, and he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it carelessly on the foyer floor. That magnificent cock hung heavily from his open zipper.

I backed away from him, my breasts still exposed, my dress still mostly on.

I saw the spark in his eyes. The desire to chase. And oh, God. I wanted to be chased.

“Where do you think you’re going, Emily? I’m just getting started.”

The ache between my legs ratcheted up to pain.

I turned and ran, bare feet slapping as I dashed toward the bedroom. He caught me. Of course he caught me, those long legs eating up the distance between us. His arms banded around me from behind, and I reveled at the feel of his cock at my back. Brutally hard.

Caged within his arms, Derek marched me to the mirror in my bedroom. I wanted to be horrified by my reflection. Disheveled and glassy-eyed. My lips were swollen, lipstick smeared. As I watched, he unzipped my dress. Our eyes caught and held in the mirror. The sound of our breathing and the zipper as he dragged it down was the only noise.

“Watch,” he ordered, placing my palms on the cool glass. He slipped the dress down past my waist, hips, thighs, until it pooled uselessly at my feet. Slowly, decadently, Derek reversed the path with his broad hands. Starting at my ankles, they skated up my calves, thighs, over the curves of my ass and waist and higher until they cupped my breasts.

He leaned over my shoulder, teeth flashing. I gasped at the nip.

“I’m going to devour you, Emily.”

I didn’t doubt him for a minute.

While I watched. While my nails scraped at the smooth surface of the mirror, he tugged on both my nipples. Back and forth. Faster. Harder. I pressed my hips back against him, and he grunted in my ear.

“Who’s in charge here, love?” he asked.

“Let’s fight for it.” I pulled one hand off the mirror and reached around behind me to grip his shaft. Moisture leaked from the tip, dampening my back. Derek closed his eyes in the mirror as I worked my hand down to the root.

“Dammit, woman,” he hissed, bringing a hand up to cup my jaw from behind. We made an erotic tableau together in the mirror. I needed him inside me. Needed him pounding into me, racing me to an orgasm.

I released his cock and gripped my breast with my bare hand.

“Fuck,” he snarled. He whirled me around, his grip bruising. I decided to worry about how much I liked it later. His shirt was open but still on. I shoved it off his shoulders as he backed me toward the bed.

“Pants, Price.”

He maintained a grip on my arm and used his free hand to shove his pants down. His underwear, bold red briefs, were rolled down under the proud jut of his erection. The mattress caught the back of my legs, and Derek was falling with me, covering me.

“I want you in my mouth,” I whispered.

“Not this time, Emily.” He dipped down and latched on to one nipple.

I curled my fingers into the sheets, white-knuckling my grip on the world.

He sucked harder, my hips bowing up off the mattress. I needed to feel him against me. I wanted to guide the blunt crown of his cock through my slit. I wanted so much I was afraid one human being couldn’t satisfy the magnitude of need.

“Hold still, love.” His voice was rough and low.

I flexed at the brush of his cock as he lined it up against me. The tip, that glorious blunt tip kissed my core. My breath was coming in pants, and Derek had me skewered with an intense, fiery gaze. It was too late. I knew this wasn’t going to be some quick screw to blow off steam or just to get off.

This was something else entirely. Something I wasn’t prepared for.

He fed his cock into me inch by luxurious inch. Big. Too big, I realized. But there was something else besides the wicked burn as I struggled to accommodate him. Something so darkly satisfying about feeling every ridge and vein of this thick shaft.

Exquisitely full.

He groaned. Agony. Ecstasy. Both were delicately intertwined in the moment that Derek Price hit bottom inside me.

We trembled while he held there, my knees pinned wide open as his hips settled between my legs.

He was bare. There’d been no condom. And I wanted to regret it. I’d been conditioned to regret it. But this feeling. This sleek, wet slide as he slowly dragged himself out of my body was too good to regret.

“It’s so good it hurts,” I whispered.

“Exactly,” he answered, pressing his lips to my throat. “Exactly right.”

Slowly, he slid back in, this time lifting my hips and adjusting. I hadn’t taken him all before. But this time I did. The pain and inexplicable pleasure married in an experience I knew I’d never forget.

“I can’t tell you how good you feel, Emily.”

I dug my nails into his bare back, raking his skin. I urged him with my hips, encouraging him to go a little faster. Take me a little farther. Hurt me a little more.