‘Jesus, Scarlett!’
With confidence I never knew I had, I continue to slide up and down his shaft, twirling my tongue around the bulging head, savouring the taste of him.
‘Your mouth is fucking magic.’
I cup his sack in my hand and work him there, continuing to suck. He moves his hips, pushing into me as he groans.
‘Fuck, I’m nearly there.’
Grabbing my hair, he holds me still as he fucks my mouth and I’m focused on only him, the pleasure he’s feeling.
His body stiffens, his balls lift and his cock swells.
I wrap a hand around his base and pump as he pushes into my mouth, my own body charged by the knowledge that I can bring this extraordinary man to his knees.
I feel him pulse and his fingers yank at my hair. ‘Scarlett, I’m going to come.’
I hear his warning but I don’t stop. I want this. I want him. I want him to lose control for me, forget whatever it is that keeps him so tightly wound.
Warm liquid bursts into my mouth and I swallow everything he gives to me.
20
The crisp, evening air fills my nose and makes me realise just how fuzzy my post-wine-tasting head feels. Four reds, three whites and five sparkling tasters will do that to you. Gregory pulls my cream scarf higher up my chin and wraps my autumn coat tighter around me like I’m something he has to protect. He adjusts his perfectly tailored, navy trench coat, fastening the buttons to the top of his neck. The combination of wine and the knowledge of how his body feels entwined with mine makes my head fog even more with a need to be wrapped up in him again.
‘So, you never answered my question.’ The white air around his words is doused in the fragrance of sparkling wine.
‘What question?’
‘Would you like to stay over tonight?’
Before my impulses scream, YES!!! I remember one problem. ‘My clothes. I don’t have any.’
‘Hmm, well, I happen to think you look very good in my clothes, or better yet, no clothes.’
His boldness gives me an idea of my own. ‘If you want to take off my clothes, you’ll have to catch me first.’
I dash into the nearest row of vines. He follows, chasing me in a parallel row. He’s faster than me but the grapeless branches between us stop him from catching me. Cold air strikes my chest, wind lifts the tails of my coat and pulls my hair back from my face. The chase is exhilarating. Knowing I’ll eventually be captured in his arms is even better.
He’s already at the end of my row when I try a dummy dart, first stepping towards him then quickly turning to run in the opposite direction. He leans full stretch, his strong hand grabbing for my waist, turning me towards him. My right foot slips in wet soil and my left leg struggles to keep me up, kicking helplessly. I try to shuffle my right foot, my arms ride a bike in the air, a high-pitched squeal escapes my lips before I thud to the earth with Gregory falling quickly after me, squelching in the mud.
‘I definitely need a change of clothes now,’ I manage through delirious laughter.
‘That makes two of us.’
Gregory shuffles until his waist is hovering above mine, the weight of his body resting on his forearms and between my legs. He kisses me, softly at first, then tugs my lower lip between his teeth and intensifies his assault. ‘I’m going to make an executive decision, Miss Heath: we’re staying.’
‘That’s why you earn the big bucks, CEO.’
The receptionist frowns as she considers our mud-stained and sodden clothes but is quick to sign us in when she checks her computer and realises Mr Ryans has made a reservation in the Penthouse Suite.
‘Presumptuous,’ I say as the concierge leads us to our room.
‘Or informed.’
The Penthouse Suite is draped in heavy, gold-trimmed, red curtains that match almost exactly the regal carpet. An antique bar table is decorated with a crystal decanter and glasses. Through an open door, I see a four-poster bed dressed in what I can only assume is the finest of Egyptian cotton.
The concierge leaves Gregory’s leather weekend bag and a large Harrods carrier next to the dressing table. I can’t wait for him to leave. Gregory is calm and gracious as ever. He tips the concierge then closes the door behind him and turns to meet my lascivious gaze.
