I want him inside me.
Like he’s tuned into me, his fingers slip through the evidence of our first round and stroke the most responsive part of my wall. I sweat under the pressure of his touch and the feel of his tongue; he keeps going until screams escape me.
‘Show me how much you want it, baby.’
Another orgasm attacks each of my senses, overpowering me.
I open my eyes to see him kneeling over me, deliciously self-assured. Locking my legs around his waist, I roll us until he’s lying on his back. I straddle him and watch him, captivated by the change in his face as I lean one hand back and run a finger from the bottom of his sack to the tip of his hard-on. I grab him in my hand and move my hips in time with the movement of my fist.
‘I want to come inside you again,’ he groans.
His hands grip my hips tight and raise me so I can slide down on top of him. My head falls back as I delight in the feel of him against my tender insides. He growls when I start to move around him and his fingers dig further into my flesh.
Circling, rising and pushing back down on to him, I build us both, relishing in the power of giving this to him.
His body stiffens.
He reaches up, grabbing my breasts and flicking his thumbs over their hard ends. It’s too much.
I fall forwards and kiss his lips, tasting myself on him.
He rolls me onto my back and thrusts harder, faster, until I think I might faint. Then he slams one hand onto the bedframe and with one last thrust, his rhythm falters and finally it’s my turn to see him come undone.
18
I’m alone, cocooned in white bed sheets. A hot streak of winter sun peeks from behind the bedroom blind, illuminating the white walls. I’m intensely aware of my body, my breasts and the moist sensation between my legs. My lips are soft to touch but feel plump and delicate. It’s as if last night woke me for the first time in my life.
He made me forget everything. All the bad stuff. The complications, who I am, my lines and my rules.
What he did to me… I’ve never felt that way. Physically. Emotionally. Touch, smell, sound, taste. He took over them all and I willingly relented.
Smiling to myself, I search the room for my clothes, expecting them to be scattered across the floor. I find my dress folded, along with my jewellery, on a sleek, black, velour chaise longue in the corner of the room. The stiletto heels that bore witness to all last night’s events are neatly paired on the floor.
The smell of fresh coffee permeates the room and mumbling voices come from somewhere in the apartment. I hold my dress across my body in front of the floor-length mirror, so obviously the morning after the night before. Amanda would call this the walk of shame. No matter who’s down there, I can’t really walk out in my LBD and heels. Scanning the room, I realise how little I took in last night. There’s no wardrobe, no real practical furniture other than the enormous sleigh bed and the seductive chaise longue. A bachelor room. I throw away the thought of how many other women have probably had the pleasure.
Gregory’s shirt from last night hangs invitingly on the end of the chaise longue. There’s no getting away from it; whoever’s out there is going to know exactly what we did last night. Mostly, I’m mortified, but there’s a part of me that wants to shout from the rooftops that Gregory Ryans, the Gregory Ryans, the insanely sexy CEO, made love to me. No, fucked me, twice.
I button up the shirt I was so keen to unbutton last night, hang my head upside down to shake the bedhead from my hair, tap my cheeks in the mirror and quietly open the door. Tiptoeing along the hallway and down the stairs, I hold the tail ends of the shirt closed to preserve what little dignity I have left.
Gregory and Jackson are deep in conversation at the breakfast bar. They both sip fresh orange in sweat pants and gym tops. It’s the first time I’ve seen Gregory look casual and he’s still truly captivating.
Jackson leans forwards on the kitchen breakfast bar looking more serious than I care for anyone to be this morning.
‘Are you certain it was foul play?’ Gregory asks, receiving a shrug from Jackson.
‘I can’t be certain. His body will be so battered, it’ll be hard to tell.’
I stand upright, putting my hand on the wall to steady my legs.
‘But like you said, the struggle could have been him trying to get out of the room.’
‘It could’ve been but I want to bring in extra security in case this thing isn’t over.’
‘Fine. Bring them in. Make sure my mother has twenty-four seven.’
‘What about you?’ Jackson asks.
‘I’ll be fine; just make sure Lara’s protected.’
