He grabbed my elbow and dragged me away from the event. He led me into a small office with tall windows facing the McDowell Mountains. “What was that?” he asked.
“Rogue olive,” I muttered. Inside the office, we looked at each other, smiling wildly, and broke into laughter.
“There’s only one solution,” Sam said, eyeing my cleavage. “If you’d like.”
I gestured to my chest. “There’s an olive trapped in my boobs. Clearly, this requires an architect.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said as he slipped out of his suit coat and folded it over the back of the desk chair. “There’re a couple hundred architects out there, and none of them are touching you.” He traced the edge of my dress, his finger following the rise and fall of my breasts. “Can you be quiet?”
“What is it you think you’re doing?”
He pressed his finger to my lips. “Shush.”
That finger shifted until his entire hand covered my mouth, and he gave me a slow, solemn nod. He kissed along my throat and chest, and pulled my dress down, exposing my bra. He dragged his lips over my breasts and then between, his tongue sliding against the curves.
Sam straightened, a lopsided grin splitting his face as he chewed the olive. “You still want to rip my clothes off?” I nodded. Of course I did. “I think I’m going to let you.”
And then I threw him against the door and tore his trousers open. A button snapped off and his belt smacked me in the face, but I was on my knees and pumping his cock before he had any idea what was going on.
It was better this way. A little desperate, a little frantic, and too quick to think about what was happening. No excuses, no arguments. I wanted this, and I knew he did, too.
My tongue wrapped over his head, sweeping up the bead of fluid leaking out and taking him into my mouth. He groaned, and the sound reverberated around us, heightening my own arousal.
“Tiel,” he warned. “You don’t have to . . .”
“I want to.”
His hands fisted in my hair, and the muscles in his legs flexed as he pumped into me, fast and greedy. He swore—long and loud and wonderfully profane. It was rough, and I nearly gagged a few times, but it was exactly how I wanted him.
“I’m not coming in your mouth,” he said, his body going stiff. “Not this time.”
Sam grabbed my biceps and hauled me up, shifting to back me against the door. He widened his stance and placed my hand on his cock, guiding me to stroke him.
“You’re wet, aren’t you?” I looked up with a devious smile, and he trailed a finger up my thigh to brush over my folds. “Really wet.”
I wiggled my lip between my teeth, sighing as his finger slipped inside me. He growled, low and menacing, and his mouth crashed against mine. He hiked my dress around my waist, hooked my leg over his thigh, and was inside me before the moan vibrated in my throat. “I think this qualifies as having sex in public,” I sighed.
“And if you think you’re getting two cocks any time soon, I can guarantee you one of them will be rubber,” he growled. “No one else is touching you. Not now. Notever.”
My fingernails dug into his hips, scoring his skin and demanding more. This was the wild side of Sam that I adored, the one that allowed desire to reign over technique. He knew his way around the female body, that was a given, but I loved it when he didn’t focus on me, when he surrendered to the electricity that arced between us.
“Won’t last,” he murmured. I nodded, whimpering against his lips as he pounded into me. I was close; not close enough to come in the next couple of seconds, but this time was all for him. He thrust deeply, and we groaned together as his orgasm barreled through him.
Sam sighed my name as he rested his head on my shoulder, and for those throbbing minutes, it was perfect. We were sweating, panting, and in various states of undress in a random office that boasted an enormous window for anyone to observe our coupling, and my heart completely and totally belonged to him. “I love you,” I sighed.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice heavy from the exertion. “We didn’t use anything.” I squinted at him, not understanding. “I came inside you.”
“Oh,” I said, and the single syllable revealed a stilted quality in my voice. I’d never encountered this issue before. He knew I wasn’t on the pill—I couldn’t remember that kind of thing, and didn’t enjoy the idea of pumping chemicals into my body—and I knew he had regular blood work done and was clean as a whistle. “It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Um, maybe?” I was terrible at keeping track of these things. I only knew I was fairly regular, and the precise details never found a home in my brain. “Don’t worry.”
“Are yousure?”
“Yes,” I said, and that sounded like the right answer to me. What were the odds anything would come of this one unprotected moment?
He kissed my neck—I was concerned about my sweating, but he went right on kissing—and brought his hand between my legs, rubbing my clit. He was still inside me, pulsing, and he brought me right to the edge. I was gasping and moaning when I exploded on his fingers, and I sank my teeth into his arm to stifle my scream.
