I drop slowly to my knees, and this time, instead of the wild,ravenous beast, I am calm, methodical. Yes, my dick’s pounding, but that’s not an issue. It’s not an issue that I’m letting this happen at work either. And how, more than anything, I want to drag her onto the floor, make her sit on my face, and force one climax after another from this sweet, sweet body? Not. An. Issue. Nothing is an issue when I’m in the zone. Calm, clearheaded, controlled.
Slowly, carefully, I work her with my mouth, my tongue. Her clit’s a hard, sensitive bead, and every time I flick it, she goes tight around my invading finger. I push her up. Up, up, up, with systematic pressure, using her reactions as a guide, plunging deeper into her with a second finger. Work her up and up, then hold her at the top… Control her orgasm the way I do everything. I calmly give, and I calmly take, and this is where I feel the deepest satisfaction.
I mutter things, monitoring every twitching limb and clenching muscle, as her writhing and panting reach a fever pitch. I then press a third finger inside, right on that G-spot, and suck hard on her perfect little clit, and…
As she starts to fall apart, I rise, my fingers still pumping inside her, drag her up, tearing the wad of paper from her mouth and pressing my face to her neck.
My body soaks it all up—the trembling, the harsh breaths, the quiet way she whisper-screams against my shoulder. It’s glorious. And it’s mine.
At some point, while my still very turned-on body absorbs her tremors, she flops back and looks up at me. The hazy, lost look on her face makes me want to wrap her up in something warm and feed her one disgusting pumpkin spice drink after another, in a bath, with pumpkin spice candles if she wants. She deserves soft towels and a big, cozy bed.
“Come here,” I whisper, bending to nuzzle her cheek, her ear, and the curve below her jaw. Back up to her lips. Before I can think it through, I’m kissing her.
It’s the wrong kind of kiss for what we are. I know that. But it feels too good to stop.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rae
IAM SHOCKED BYhow soft his mouth is this time. How tender.
Just a dry swipe of his lips to mine, careful, though not tentative. He’s not asking if he can have me. He’s learning, listening, testing. If our kiss at the club was a wild, carnivorous massacre, this is a slow, sensuous feast.
My mouth is so sensitive that just that first touch makes me whimper.
Grant pulls back with a quiet,shhhhh, before diving in again, his gaze glued to my mouth like he’s hungry. Wants more. Can’t stop.
Until the kiss isn’t exploring anymore; it’s taking. Drinking, then biting, tugging at my bottom lip, and letting it go. His cheek rubs against mine, sandpaper rough. His mouth smells like me, like sex.
With an irritable grunt, he changes his angle and licks deeper, his tongue making the kiss carnal instead of sweet, and so ravenous that I feel echoes of it between my thighs.
My legs, which have found their way around his waist, drag him closer, up against me. While his tongue consumes me, his arms wrap my body tight. Shivers run down my back. My fingerstunnel into his hair. So soft. I’ll remember that later. The silky give of each wave. The width of his hips, forcing my thighs wide, the heft of this hot, thick shoulder against my palm.
He bends and buries his face in my neck again, his breath heavy and hot and fast. And after a handful of seconds, like he’s shut that part of him off, he straightens, drags his lips over mine one last time, and plants a brief kiss on my forehead.
“Okay, then.” He steps back from where I’m still sitting on my desk, legs splayed.
Wait, what? Are we done? No, no, no, I want more!
“Here.” His voice is gruff, his eyebrows low. I’d say he’s annoyed except for the careful way he pulls my skirt down and reaches up to slide both thumbs along my cheekbones. Raccoon eyes, I’m guessing, which he is kind enough to at least attempt to remove. It’s a testament to how hard he made me come that I couldn’t care less.
“Thank you,” I whisper after taking a sip from the water bottle he’s just held up to my mouth.
He nods, lips compressed right back into their usual flat line until he opens them to ask, “You okay?”
“I’m good.”
This is a lie.Gooddoesn’t cover a single part of this. But a girl’s got to have her pride, right? And despite the hopefully reparable damage he’s just done to my synapses, there’s no way I’m telling this man just how completely he rocked my world. The kissing, the dirty talk… the cunnilingus? And then, because I wouldn’t be a Jensen if I didn’t stir the shit just a teeny tiny bit, I ask, “So. Are we adult enough to admit that you just licked me to fruition and back right here on this desktop?” My dress falls back into place as I hop off said desk, pluck the wadded-up list of rules from its surface, and, with some regret, chuck it in the trash.I’d probably keep it if he wasn’t standing there watching me. Next, I open the drawer containing cleaning supplies and set to work. “Or did this not happen either?”
“Oh, this happened.”
Surprised, I look up to meet his steady gaze and then slowly look down to where his erection’s tenting his pants. “You, uh, need help with that?”
His eyes narrow, darkening as he takes a step toward me.
At that exact moment, there’s a knock on the door.
“Shit,” I mouth, chucking a used pile of Clorox wipes into the trash like they’re evidence in a murder trial.
