“Right. Yes.”
“Let’s see where this takes us. Yeah?”
Where it takes us.Like it’s a road trip, a thing we’re doing together. The two of us. Going places.
At my nod, he shuts off the overhead light, leaving us with just the glow from his desk lamp and the streetlights. He sighs, stretches, and then picks up my trench coat belt, which he twists around the knuckles of one hand and pulls taut with the other. Will he tie me up with it? Do I want that?
His back’s still to me when he says, “Hold your hair up.”
“What?”
“You like wearing your hair up. You’ll have to hold it.”
“I have rubber bands in my desk. I could…”
He looks up, his face ice hard. I stop talking and quickly bunch all my hair into a mass on the crown of my head.
“Hold it up with both hands.”
I comply, nerves making every part of me shake.
“That’s better.” He eyes me like something he’d select at the market. Gone is the warmth, the laughter. This man brooks no refusal.
It’s hot and it’s scary, and it’s made my body feel separate from me. I know it’s there. I’m aware of it. It just doesn’t seem like mine.
I’ve never felt so on display as I do with my hands planted on the top of my head, folded at the elbows in this sit-up position. My back’s arched, my chest up.
“You look good like that, Sunny. So damn pretty.”
My cheeks heat from the compliment.
“Open your mouth.” He comes close, and I have to roll my eyes back to watch him, and even that is somehow sexual. “Go on. Open.”
I let my jaw drop, so hyperaware of his crotch, right there at eye level, that I could swear my mouth starts to water.
“These lips…” He brushes a thumb over my mouth and cradles my face with the fingers of that same hand. “They’re gonna feel so good, aren’t they?”
Should I nod? Respond? I don’t know. But then he slips his thumb inside, and I don’t have to, and that loosens something up inside my rib cage. No choices. No decisions. Nothing to do. Nothing to think. Just… be.
“There you go.” His thumb presses in, exploring my inner cheek, my teeth and tongue, and the roof of my mouth, and then, instead of letting me suck like I thought he’d do, he tilts my head slightly back. “That’s it. That’s the angle.”
Liquid warmth flows straight to my pussy. And yeah, part of it is that the man looks good. I mean, he’s unbelievably gorgeous with his shirt off, and I’ve barely had the wherewithal to look. He’s all thick, broad shoulders, lightly furred chest, and sharply carved abs, but that’s not what turns my insides to slush. At least not all of it. The way he’s playing with me? Wow, does that hit buttons I didn’t know I had. The narration, too, is its own torture. The way he’s telling me what he’ll do, every step of the way. It has theadded benefit of giving me time to adjust or protest. Time to say no. Or to open wider.
Time to wait in agony while he plans his next move. Although knowing this man as I now do, I’ll bet he’s got it all mapped out in his head from start to finish. The General wouldn’t leave anything to chance.
It occurs to me that I’m the chance card here, the unexpected piece of this puzzle. The wild roll of the dice is me. For some unfathomable reason, that is what sends the shiver down my spine. Makes me swipe a lick at that thumb and rake my gaze over every inch of his chest with a lascivious pleasure I’d hardly known I contained.
“There she is.” His eyes crease at the corners, and I love the tiny thread of warmth that shines through. “Stay like that.”
I don’t dare move as he reaches for the waistband of his boxer briefs, just visible where his pants are open, and lowers it, exposing his erection with the sort of slow ceremony usually reserved for religious occasions.
He’s watching first himself and then me with the utmost concentration, and it is heady how solid that attention feels, holding me up as surely as the wood beneath my knees. In this moment, there is nothing in the world but the two of us.
And his monster cock.
“Um, Grant?”
He lifts his eyebrows.
