The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(37)

His eyes are dark, and his fingers dip into my panties, and he slides them through my flesh. “Fuck,” he whispers. “I could blow just by feeling this beautiful, hot pussy.”

I begin to rock down on him with force, searching for a deeper connection, and his jaw hangs slack as he stares up at me. I don’t know what the hell kind of nympho pills someone slipped into my drink at dinner, but I find myself on the floor between his legs, and I unzip his jeans with force.

He hisses as I push him back into his seat and spread his legs aggressively.

Our eyes lock, and I lick the end of him and taste the preejaculate as it oozes from his head. He cups my face, and I take him deep down my throat as he clenches. “Fuck,” he growls in a whisper as his stomach contracts. “Fucking hell, Emily.”

I begin to fist him hard, and he lurches underneath me. He’s going to come.

I want him to come hard, quick . . . and unbridled. I need to own him tonight.

Pleasing him makes me feel good about myself, and this new version of Emily is someone I like. I want to keep her.

“Emily,” he growls as he grabs a handful of my hair. “We’re home.” He pushes the lock down on the door just before his driver tries to open it.

I scramble to the seat, and he zips his jeans up as we both pant, gasping for air.

What the hell? This man makes me an animal.

He turns to me and smirks as he fixes my hair. “Let’s just get to the apartment, shall we?” He kisses me tenderly; his lips linger over mine as we stare at each other.

“It’s good to see you again, Emily Foster,” he whispers.

I lick my lips as I climb back over to straddle him. “It’s good to taste you again, Jameson Miles.” I rock my sex over him, and he grabs my hip bones and holds me still.

“Stop,” he commands. “Stop now.”

I put my lips up to his ear. “I want you to blow your load in your car,” I whisper before biting him. “Fuck me right here.”

“Jesus Christ.” He pushes me off and opens the door in one swift movement, and the driver drops his head as he pretends not to know what we were doing in there.

“Thank you,” Jameson says as he pulls me out and marches into the building.

We get into the elevator, and the attendant stares straight ahead. I’m panting, dripping wet, and my sex is throbbing.

I’m a hot mess.

Jameson’s eyes are dark as he stares straight ahead at the closed doors.

God, I need him.

The doors open, and he pulls me out by the hand. Our lips are locked, and he walks me into his apartment backward. “Isn’t this how we got into the room last time?” I smile as he lifts me.

“Similar.”

He puts me down, and I look around, and my heart drops. “What the hell, Jim?” I whisper through shock.

“What?” He frowns.

“This is your house?” I ask as my eyes scan the room.

His lips drop to my neck as he licks and sucks down my collarbone; he’s completely preoccupied.

The apartment is huge and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows and the lights of New York twinkling everywhere I look. Lamps are strategically placed to give a warm feeling. I’ve never been anywhere so beautiful . . . or foreign.

The floors are a light timber parquetry, and luxurious velvet and leather furnishings fill the space. The living room has a fireplace with a huge gilded mirror hanging over it and a beautiful antique rug.

“Stop looking at the apartment, and look at me.” He grabs my face and drags it back to his.

I stare at him.

“What?” he murmurs.

“This apartment.”

“What about it?”

“You come from a different world than me,” I whisper.

“Who cares?” His eyes hold mine. “I want you, and you want me. What else is there?”

Our kiss turns desperate as he slams me up against the wall and tears my dress from my body in one quick movement. I push his jacket over his shoulders and grab his T-shirt and lift it off and then unzip his jeans, and he kicks them to the side.

We stare at each other, both in our underwear, both panting, both craving a deeper connection.

It’s like Christmas morning . . . only better.

Next thing I know, I’m being dragged through his apartment and thrown onto the bed. He tears my underwear from my body. His hungry gaze drops down the length of my body as he drinks me in.

And there it is—the heat that this man creates with his stare could light up the earth. The way he looks at me is something I’ve never forgotten.

He lifts my legs and puts them around his waist and then begins to slide his thick cock through my swollen flesh.

A sexy smile crosses his face as he looks down at me. “I remember now.”

“You remember what?”

“What the F stands for in your initials.”

“What’s that?”

“Fuck bunny.”

I burst out laughing. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“How could you forget anything? Every detail from that night is burned into my brain.” He hands me a condom. “Put it on me.”

My lips softly kiss his dick before I follow his instruction. So bossy.

“Like what?” I whisper up at him. I lie down, and he crawls back over me.