The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(33)

“I don’t know . . . Things,” she says, then gasps with a swallow.

On my knees now, situated between her legs, I lightly graze my fingers down the center of her belly toward the juncture between her thighs. She sucks in another breath, her hips wiggling on the bed.

Patience, Presley.

“What sort of things?” Giving a tug to the skimpy fabric, I pull her thong down to her ankles. I kiss her knees as I untangle it from her heels, sliding the silken material into my pocket. “Things like this?”

I lick the line of her inner thigh, punctuating the trail with a hard suck. She moans and then laughs a little, breathlessly. I push her dress up on her hips, revealing her perfect pink pussy. Fucking hell, is there anything more beautiful?

“Or things like this?” I bring my lips to the needy spot between her thighs, but I don’t touch her yet, using my hot breath to drive her crazy.

“Mmm,” she whimpers, and my cock presses painfully against my zipper.

Fuck patience.

I part her with my tongue, tasting her with a confident motion. She groans, pushing herself against my mouth. Between soft kisses to her sweet center, I find myself moaning. The vibrations send her reeling, her fingers finding purchase in my hair.

Now that I have her taste on my tongue, I can’t stop. I press my tongue into her warmth and almost come in my fucking pants. She’s so sweet. So tight and tempting. Her fingers rake against my scalp, and she makes needy noises of pleasure.

I hook my thumbs around her hip bones to give myself more leverage against her eager motions. She’s panting with short, high-pitched breaths that tell me she’s close to coming. Focusing on her clit, I suck away at her last efforts of composure.

“Dom!” she shouts.

Presley.

I slide one hand up her body to find her breast, pulling a nipple between forefinger and thumb. With the most maddening, soft whimpering sounds I’ve ever heard, Presley grinds herself right against my face, and I’m lost.





Chapter Fourteen


Presley



I’ve never felt anything so intense. My thighs quake and my hips shove against Dominic’s mouth in uncontrollable desperation, in my need to be even closer. The sensation is almost too much, but I’m not about to back down now. I’m so close, so maddeningly close.

“Please,” I whimper. “I can’t take it, don’t stop!”

I’m not making any sense, but it doesn’t matter when his incredible tongue is flooding me with so much pleasure. He growls into me, and the vibration and the fiery hunger in his eyes when they scan mine tip me over.

Writhing, I stifle a scream as the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had crashes through me. It goes on and on, and he doesn’t let up until I’m trembling with oversensitivity, and left feeling dazed and limp.

Holy hell!

Dominic smirks from between my legs with wolfish satisfaction. “Good, I take it?”

I nod slowly, still hazy. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’ve just had my mind blown—by my boss. Oh God.

But I’m not going to question whether this is right or wrong. Not anymore, or at least, not tonight. Right now, I’m just eager to return the favor. The endorphins rushing through my bloodstream have commanded my brain to pipe down, and my body is the one doing the thinking.

The moment he gets back on the bed to kiss me, I’m fumbling for his shirt buttons with shaky fingers. He lets out a pleased hum as I unbuckle his belt. Together, we struggle to strip him and toss his clothes over the side of the bed without breaking our kiss.

With my eyes and hands, I devour each new inch of his exposed skin. His naked body is perfect, every angle and muscle sculpted by a classical artist. And when he slips off his boxers and his hard length springs free, my body gives an involuntary clench.

“You are unfairly hot,” I mumble.

He laughs. “Glad you appreciate the view.”

It’s an amazing one. But after so many days of being forced to content myself with just looking, I’m not waiting another second to taste. I scoot down his body to straddle his lower legs and bring my face close to his cock. Long, thick, flushed, and dripping . . . all because of me. I did this to him.

And now I get to do a lot more. I lick my lips.

He blinks. “You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to.” So damn bad. I’ve been repressing fantasies about it since my first day at Aspen.

He strokes my hair. “Are you sure? Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable wi—”

I shut him up by closing my mouth around him, and I relish how his breath hitches and his hand stills in my hair.

“Shit. If you’re sure.” He releases a sharp exhale, then a husky noise. He rests one hand on my head and the other on my shoulder. “Go on, baby.”

The sweet name is unexpected, and out of place, but I like it much more than I thought I would. Because it came from Dominic, the always in control, always so disciplined man who’s walls are tumbling down just for me.

I hesitate, because now I actually have to figure out what I’m doing. Experimentally, I lick a line from base to tip. Wow, the skin is so soft. I taste the salt of his sweat and a hint of musk—definitely not unpleasant, especially with the quiet sigh that escapes him.

Holding him firmly by the base, I slide my lips toward my hand. My gag reflex asserts itself long before I hit bottom. Okay, not what I wanted, but I can work with this. Treat it like a popsicle, I guess. I lick and suck my way back up, then down again, and his soft groan of pleasure electrifies me. Encouraged, I continue.