The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(69)

I open my eyes to see his are closed. He’s totally in the moment with me. “Do you know how fucking horny I am, Anderson?” he whispers against my mouth.

I smile. “Probably as horny as me.”

“No. I win. I’ve jerked off three times today in preparation for this. You’ll be lucky if I have anything left for you.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, I missed your sense of humor.”

We fall serious for a moment as our eyes search each other’s. I missed more than his sense of humor, but I’ll never admit it. “I need you naked,” he whispers. His concentration drops to my blouse, and he begins to slowly unbutton it.

My heart is beating so fast as I stand before him. How is this happening? We’ve been in the room together for all of two minutes.

This is lust . . . pure, unadulterated lust.

“What were you thinking about when you jerked off?” I whisper.

His eyes hold mine. “You.”

My heart constricts in my chest as my eyes search his again. I know this is casual and probably sleazy sex. But damn it, it feels like more. It feels like a lifetime since I’ve been in his arms. He undoes my last button and slides my blouse over my shoulder and carefully places it over the back of the couch. His lips go to my neck as he slowly unzips my zipper and slides my skirt down.

He nips my neck with his teeth and then takes my skirt fully off and carefully places it on the chair. “We don’t want any creases in your clothes when you go back to work.”

I frown. How many times before has he had this kind of lunch date?

He knows the drill . . . I push the thought to the back of my mind.

Don’t go there.

He steps back from me; his eyes drop down my body, and I close my eyes to block him out. My nerves are at an all-time high. I know I am nothing like the women he’s used to. “You know . . . ,” he whispers.

I stare at a spot on the carpet—anything to take myself away from the intensity of his gaze on my body.

He drags my face to his. “I had forgotten how beautiful you are, Anderson.”

If I could answer him with something witty, I would. But I can’t. I’m overwrought with the feelings he brings out in me.

He bends and kisses my clavicle and then one by one takes my nipples into his mouth through my bra.

I hold my breath to try to stop it from quivering, to try to at least act a little cool.

He drops lower to my stomach. He trails kisses lower and lower and then drops to his knees in front of me. He nibbles my sex through my panties, and I close my eyes as I nearly combust.

Oh, dear God . . .

He pulls my panties to the side and kisses me softly there . . . oh fucking hell.

I feel his exhale on my skin, and I hold my breath as I wait for a reaction.

He inhales sharply and then, as if unable to help it, licks me deep with his thick tongue. He moans in appreciation, and it sends a rumble through my sex. My legs nearly cave in under me. I glance up and catch sight of us in the mirror.

Me in my black lace underwear. Him in a full suit and tie, on his knees in front of me.

I look down at him, and his eyes are closed in pleasure, as if he might die if he doesn’t get to taste me. Impatient with licking around my panties, he slides them down, throws them to the side, and then walks me backward over to the bed.

He slowly takes my bra off and then lays me down and spreads my legs wide.

His eyes roam over my flesh. I’m completely at his mercy.

Here for his pleasure.

We stare at each other as the energy swirls between us like wildfire.

When Tristan Miles has me naked . . . nothing else matters.

All I care about is pleasing him.

He bends and takes my thighs in his hands and holds me wide as his tongue begins to swirl deep in my sex.

My back arches off the bed, and I writhe beneath him. My hands twist in his wavy hair, and I drag his face up so I can look at him. His lips glisten with my arousal, and his eyes are a beautiful shade of “come fuck me.”

“Get up here,” I whisper.

He licks me again, his eyes closing once more, and it becomes very clear that he isn’t in control of his actions anymore. He’s working on instinct now, sheer male instinct. His body has taken over; it doesn’t matter what I ask for. He needs to do it his way . . . at least this time, anyway.

He keeps eating me, deeper and deeper as he loses all control. His face thrashes from side to side, and his whiskers burn my sensitive skin.

Fucking hell . . . so good.

My back begins to arch in pleasure; my face contorts as I try to hold it. “Tris,” I whimper as I pull his hair between my fingers. “Up here. Come up here.” I want to kiss him.

I desperately want to kiss him.

He grazes his teeth against my clitoris, and I cry out as I burst into orgasm. I shudder hard as he softly licks me through it. For five minutes he continues as I stare at the ceiling and shudder and see stars.

I think that’s the hardest I’ve ever come. God damn, he’s so fucking good at this.

I come to my senses and realize that he’s still completely dressed in his suit.

I sit up with a renewed determination and crawl onto my knees. “Stand up,” I breathe.

His eyes flicker with fire, and he stands up as I unzip his trousers. His cock is rock hard and sitting above the waist of his briefs. Preejaculate is beading on the end. I should undress him. I should take my time.