Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)(32)

His breathing deepened, and he licked his lips greedily as he stared at her sex. “Fuck,” he muttered, and pushed her hands out of the way. “Lean back so you can watch me as I devour you.”

She braced her hands behind her so that her upper body was still angled in a way that gave her an unobstructed view. The chair he was sitting on was the perfect height, and she watched as he lowered his dark head and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh, his glittering eyes cast upward to lock with hers.


She shivered and moaned, and her sex pulsed with renewed desire as he lazily made his way upward, sucking, biting, and licking her skin until he arrived at his destination. He lifted her thighs so they draped over his shoulders and framed his strong jaw and face, and the erotic sight made her nearly come undone.

He slid his hands up over her hips and splayed them on her lower belly, then skimmed his thumbs downward to her pouty, glistening lips, so soft and wet from her first orgasm. He spread her open, exposing her clit to his heated gaze, and when he dipped his head and rubbed the light stubble on his jaw against that still-sensitive bud of flesh, she closed her eyes as wicked, forbidden desire nearly wrecked her. The stimulation was too much…yet not enough.

“Watch me,” he demanded, and as soon as her heavy-lidded gaze met his again, he dove right in and set out to obliterate everything she thought she knew about oral sex.

Nothing had prepared her for this devastation of her senses, for being consumed and dominated and ravaged by a man who had no qualms about getting down and dirty. And messy. His open mouth was hot and hard on her, and she watched as his tongue slipped through her folds before spearing into her passage, so indecent and depraved and she loved it.

A soft cry broke free before she could catch it, and he relentlessly licked her again—a long, firm lap of his tongue that had her hips lifting to meet each teasing stroke that brought her precariously close to orgasm but stopped short of giving her what she so desperately needed.

“Clay…” she begged, her body on fire.

Another slow, torturous, swirling lick. “Is there something you want?” he muttered darkly, his breath so incredibly hot on her wet flesh.

He was going to make her ask for it, and she did. “I need to come. Please.”

Done playing with her, he latched on to her clit in earnest. His lips and tongue massaged the pleasure point with just the right amount of pressure and friction, and she reached down and twisted impatient fingers through his hair.

More, more, more, she silently chanted. Or maybe she said the words out loud, because he was sucking at her now, eating at her, and her head fell back as she rode his mouth and waves of the most sublime ecstasy shook her to the core, pleasure that never seemed to end. Until finally, the last tremor rumbled through her.

The one arm that was holding her up collapsed, and she lay back on the desk, her legs falling over the sides. She was vaguely aware of Clay frantically searching the desk drawers.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her body still tingling.

“No, I f*cking need to get inside of you. Now.” Another drawer slammed shut, and he opened another and riffled through the contents. “Mason left some condoms in here when he used my office for one of his sordid affairs a few weeks ago, and I tossed them into one of these drawers.”

She laughed softly. “Your brother really is a manwhore, isn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” he muttered, then let out a triumphant yes when he found what he was looking for.

He tore the foil packet open with his teeth, and as she watched, he sheathed his huge, impressive cock that was raring to go again.

“I never would have thought that my brother’s exploits would end up benefiting me,” he said with a shake of his head.

Samantha had to admit, she was grateful to Mason, too, because she was dying to know what it felt like to be taken by this man who hadn’t just taken over her body, he’d also possessed her soul. Nothing…absolutely nothing would ever be the same after this tryst. That much she knew with certainty.

She expected them to have sex face-to-face, so she was taken off guard when he pulled her off the desktop, spun her around, and bent her over, so that her arms were once again braced on the surface of the desk. He crowded up against her from behind, and her heart thumped hard in her chest, as she didn’t know exactly what to expect.

He trailed his thumb down the center of her upturned ass, stopping just before he reached the damp juncture of her thighs. “Spread your legs,” he ordered gruffly.

Oh, God. She swallowed hard and did as she was told, bracing her feet apart and feeling a rush of cool air drift between her thighs. He’d warned her that he wasn’t a traditional kind of guy when it came to sex, and had promised to bend her over a table, spread her legs wide, and f*ck her. She’d even told him that she wanted that.

But she’d never anticipated feeling so vulnerable right before it happened.

“Do you still want this?” he asked softly from behind her, as if he’d just been intimately inside her mind.

The fact that he’d sensed her unease, that he was willing to stop if she just said the word, made her feel safe and secure with him. She trusted him. With her body. Her pleasure. With more? Heaven knew she wanted to. She was opening herself up to him, letting him in to places that no other man had ever touched before, but he’d warned her away, and she’d do well to respect that request, too.