“Daisy,” he warns.
I blink owlishly up at him. “Yes, Dr. Cavendish?”
His hands clench and release at his sides, like he’s having a silent debate. Strangle me or throw me down on the bed, unbuckle that gleaming leather belt, and fuck me senseless?
If I get a vote here—and frankly, I think I should—it’s option B.
Here I am—completely naked in his bed, spread out, offering myself up on a platter—while he’s fully dressed, standing over me in a three-piece suit.
The contrast iscriminallysexy.
Finally, like a man succumbing to fate, he presses a hand onto my breast.
My body’s response is instant, nipples hardening, aching for more. I arch into him, desperate for his hands all over me.
“God,” he rasps. Frustration and lust battle it out in his voice as his thumb circles my nipple. “I really should be going, but—”
Apparently, he doesn’t finish the thought.
Because suddenly, his mouth is on me, his lips wrapping around my nipple, and—fuck.
I gasp, the unexpected pleasure jolting through me.
My clit throbs in response, and I arch my back even more.
“Oh my god,” I whimper, shoving my tits right into his mouth.
I run my fingers through his hair as he sucks on my overly sensitive peaks.
He pulls me closer, one hand gripping me firmly while the other slips down between my thighs, finding me soaked and ready. I spread my legs wider. No point in playing hard to get now.
“Please,” I beg in a husky whisper. “Edward, please.”
I fall back onto the bed, widening my legs, giving him full access.
He’s working his fingers in and out of me like he owns me. Shit, right now I am his property. If he wanted to, he could slap a barcode on me.
In. Out. Slow. Deep.
It feels so fucking good.
Watching his expensive cufflinks glint with each movement, his crisp buttoned-up shirt contrasting against my naked body. . . it’s beyond sexy.
I moan, long and loud, as we both lock eyes, until I’m seeing stars.
My hips buck as he finger-fucks me into next Tuesday.
I come hard against his palm. Oh god,yes.
Before he can move away, I drag his cuff against my damp slit.
Just enough to leave a barely-there stain—a filthy little secret that will sit on his wrist like a love note during his very serious, very important conference.
“Now you can leave,” I murmur, a satisfied smile playing on my lips.
I pad around Edward’s bedroom giddy with whateverthisis between us. Because it’s something.
I peek into his en suite. Holy shit, it’s bigger than my entire flat.
