Not Safe for Work(8)

Right then, his eyes flicked up. Those blue eyes that had been the subject of more fantasies than I could count, the most heart-stopping, defining feature of the man I’d wanted all this time, and now they were fixed on me, pupils blown and eyelashes wet, and…

And I fell apart.

I pressed back against his car, both to stay upright and to keep from forcing myself into his throat, and he stroked and sucked and teased me all the way through one hell of an orgasm. Back arching off the car, toes curling in my shoes, eyes rolling back—I hadn’t come like that in a long, long time.

He rocked back on his heels. I fixed my clothes, though it was challenging as hell with my hands shaking like this.

Rick stood, brushing an unsteady hand across his lower lip. “So…essentials?”

“Yeah.” I drew him in for another kiss. “We’re gonna need them.”





Chapter Three


The Coastal Star Hotel was one of those semi-luxury hotels that was mercifully inexpensive. Not “cheap” per se, but not expensive enough to condemn me to ramen noodles until payday.

I made it through the check-in process without letting on that my brain was already in the room I was requesting. I handed over my credit card and signed the form. My budget wasn’t keen on this whole idea, but it was just one night. And while I might’ve split the bill with someone whose income was roughly the same as mine, my pride instantly balked at the idea of letting someone of his stature pay my way. I didn’t need a sugar daddy.

Moments after I’d stepped away from the desk, the glass doors opened and Rick strolled inside with a plastic drugstore bag in his hand. My heart sped up. My gaze went straight to the faint dusty smudges on his knees, and most of my blood supply went straight below my belt. Fuck. That had really happened, hadn’t it? Rick had blown me in the parking garage, and now he was here, and I was here, and there was going to be more than blowing happening in that room.

We exchanged grins and headed for the elevator. Fortunately, we only had to go up one floor, and even more fortunately, the lobby, elevator and hallway were all as deserted as the parking garage had been. The fewer people noticed that my trousers weren’t fitting quite right, the better. Any other night, I’d have been mortified, or at least trying to calm myself down, but there was no one around anyway, and I was too turned on to care if they were.

Our room was a few doors from the elevator. As we headed down the hall, Rick held out his hand. “Key?”

I glanced at it, as if I’d forgotten it was between my fingers, and gave it to him. He slid it from its sleeve, and when we reached the room, swiped it. The door clicked. He pushed it open and gestured for me to go in ahead of him.

As soon as we were in the room, I pushed him up against the door, using our bodies to shut it, and kissed him. The drugstore bag hit the floor. Rick threw his arms around me, grabbing handfuls of my shirt as we ground together.

I combed my fingers through his hair. I hadn’t even realized that had been a fantasy of mine all this time—having Rick Pierce’s hair between my fingers. And it was even better with his tongue intertwining with mine and two rock-hard erections between us.

Christ—why were we still standing? I slipped my fingers under his belt and pulled him toward the bed, one stumbling, shuffling step at a time. Thank God we were here and not at home. The walk from my front door to my bed involved a long hallway and stairs, and Rick’s house was probably ten times as big as mine. But this was a hotel room—from door to bed was just a few steps, and even a pair of distracted men tangled up in legs and one long, long kiss could make it that far.

On the way across the room, we toed off our shoes but didn’t get any closer to undressed before I pulled him down onto the bed, and then I was too busy kissing him to try to get his clothes off.

I couldn’t get over the way he kissed. The way his lips felt against mine, how his tongue moved with mine. His hands were in my hair, on my face, drifting around to my back—for once, a guy who could kiss without a hand down my pants.

He hooked a finger beneath the knot of my tie and pulled, drawing me in and loosening my tie at the same time. As we kissed, he kept tugging until the knot unraveled, and he left the ends hanging over my shoulders as he wrapped his arms around me.

I started to do the same to his tie, drawing the knot downward, but lost interest in that and moved my hand up into his hair instead. He was on his back now—hell if I could recall when we’d switched positions—but straddling him like this, my dick was rubbing his through our clothes. I couldn’t decide if I was frustrated by the lack of contact, or turned on by the suggestion of his thick erection against mine.

Somehow we found our way to buttons and buckles, and miraculously, we made them work. His shirt came off. Mine came unbuttoned. Then his trousers were gone, and my shirt made it halfway off before I pushed his boxers over his hips.

And then we were too busy kissing again. I’d already come once, so the frantic need to get off was gone, and I could take my time exploring every inch of a man who I still couldn’t believe wanted me.

He pressed against me—the urgency was still there for him, making me even more inclined to tease him now. Whenever he tried to finish undressing me, I distracted him with a bite here or a kiss there. I nipped his collarbone. He cursed softly, so I did it again, harder this time, and was rewarded with a strangled moan.