“You’d rather I brag?” I tease. Right now, the awards, what my staff think about me, or my boss’s opinions, are not what I’d like to brag about.
“Is it bragging if it’s true?” she asks, and I don’t miss the invitation in her tone.
“What’s true is that right now I want nothing more than to take you upstairs and prove to you how impressive I am.” I throw her words back at her. I know I should bite my tongue off rather than say things like that, but I can’t help myself. My emotions are all right on the surface. I wish I could say more. Tell her how she makes me feel. The way she makes me feel seen. And worthy. The way she makes me want to be more than I am. But it wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
“Oh, I can feel howimpressiveyou are.” Her smile is wicked as her hand strays down my back to my arse, pressing me closer still. Her pupils have swallowed almost all the blue in her eyes, and the pink in her cheeks owes nothing to the dancing.
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” And I mean it. Because as hard as my cock is, my fingers and mouth are itching to prove themselves just as impressive.
“What are we waiting for, then?” She pulls out of my arms, trailing her fingers down from my shoulder to take my hand in hers and leading me off the dance floor. With her spare hand, she swipes up her tiny purse, tucks it under her arm and hands me the Best Creative Director award.
We’re out the door and into the lift without a word to anyone. No sooner do the doors close than she’s palming my cock through my trousers, her eyes fixed on mine.
“Fuuuck,” I groan. It’s not beyond the realms of possibility that I could come right here, right now. Especially when she lowers the zip and slips her hand inside. I drop my head back against the wall, but it’s all over too soon. The lift dings, and we’re on my floor. I’m right at the end of the corridor, though the long walk with an open zip and hard-on does nothing to calm my raging arousal. Fortunately, Greer doesn’t touch me again until the door to my room is whooshing closed behind us; otherwise, I don’t think we’d make it inside at all.
We leave the lights off. There’s enough ambient light coming into the room from the harbour lights outside.
Her hand is inside my trousers again as I back her up against the wall. Her other hand reaches behind for the zipper on her dress.
“Leave it. I want to fuck you in this incredible dress first.” And I’m leading her into the room, over to the window with a spectacular view of Sydney Harbour. Spinning her around, I place her hands in front of her on the glass and press down on her back so she’s bent over with the window for support. I want to fuck her from behind, and this way, I can see her reflection in the glass too. Best of both worlds.
Before she has time to react, I’m on my knees behind her, flipping the long skirt of her dress up over her back and admiring the bare, creamy cheeks of her arse, bisected by a sheer black lace thong. I slide the lace off her legs and lift one foot, then the other, tossing the thong aside, before nudging her feet apart and running my hands up her calves to stroke the back of her knees, the inside of her thighs. Those luscious lips are already engorged and wet, glistening in the low light, and I can smell her arousal. I bury my nose in that beautiful cleft, taking a deep breath before parting her lips with gentle fingers, holding her open for my eyes and my nose and my mouth.
Greer shudders and gasps at the first touch of my tongue, flat against her opening as I lap up some of that wetness before I slide my thumb across her swollen clit.
“Oh, God, Josh,” she moans, pushing back against my face. “That feels … argh.”
I interpret her groan as approval. While holding her still with my mouth and thumb I pull my wallet out with the other hand, grab a condom and drop it on the floor beside my knees, ready for when I need it. And then my fingers are sliding up her leg, slipping inside her dripping entrance, curving up to hit that magic spot.
My cock has worked its way out of my open trousers and is already leaking pre-cum, creating a spreading wet patch on my boxer briefs.
It only takes another couple of seconds and I feel Greer’s already taut thighs tighten and quiver. Her opening grips my fingers, and unintelligible sounds fall from her mouth.
I’m on my feet, cock out, sheathed and notching against her entrance before the quaking of her orgasm starts to recede. And then I’m inside her, feeling the aftershocks of her release fluttering against my shaft.
I pause, taking in the reflection of her face in the window. Hair wild, cheeks pink, eyes glassy. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. I start a slow rhythm as our eyes meet in the glass, unlocking a surreal connection much more powerful than our physical one.
“I need to fuck you hard, Greer. Okay with you?” I gasp as my thrusts build pace and force.
“God, yes,” is all she can manage. And then I’m pounding hard, holding her hips steady with one hand, plucking at her clit with the other. Watching the emotions thundering across her face in the window glass as her orgasm approaches.
A strangled sound, somewhere between a grunt and a snort, bursts from her lips and she’s coming again, clamping on my cock like a vise. I’m so sensitive that the extra pressure is too much and I follow her over the edge, pumping through my orgasm. Feeling like I’m draining my life force into the condom.
We’re both still fully clothed. Our reflected gazes meet. And we start to laugh.
“That’s what I call a celebration,” Greer gasps, trying to catch her breath between laughs.
“That’s whatIcall round one,” I reply. It may have taken the edge off, but there’s plenty more where that came from, and tonight she’s going to get it all. I can’t tell her how I feel, but I can make her feel better than she ever has before.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Greer
Aftersheddingourclothes,Josh leads me into the shower and we spend some time wasting water before falling into the cloudlike king-size bed for round three. Which turns into round four before we fall asleep in a tangled heap like a pair of kittens.
I’m dead to the world the next morning when Josh wakes me with room service breakfast. I’m sore all over, not that I’m complaining, and Josh gives me a massage, which turns into a happy ending for both of us. I could seriously get used to this.
“Looks like I’m doing the walk of shame today. I sure hope I don’t run into your boss on my way out,” I say as I pick my hideously expensive dress up from the crumpled heap on the floor where we left it.
