Turning away from me again, she straddles my legs and positions herself squarely above my aching lap. I hold my breath as she thrusts her hips forward and back, because I know what’s coming, and it’s not going to be me. Not at 10:30 in the morning. She puts her hands on her knees, leans forward, and squats.
Bouncing up and down on my lap.
Ohhhh-livia.
Oh. Shit.
This is the best, most evil form of punishment I have ever had the pleasure of enduring.
My hands reach for her waist, squeezing and caressing. This time she doesn’t reprimand me. She stands, turns to face me, lowers herself onto my lap, and presses my face between her tits…and I inhale her. I nip at her flesh, and she bears down on me. I can feel her heart pounding beneath my tongue as I lick her damp, heaving chest. She arches. Her neck, her back. I pull the straps of her sports bra down her shoulders, reach the tips of my fingers inside the taut fabric, and pull it aside and down until one of her beautiful, pillowy breasts pops out.
One flick of the tip of my tongue against her hard, pink nipple elicits a gasp from the vixen.
Three anxious knocks at the door beside us elicit curse words, and she covers her tits with one arm and her mouth with one hand.
“Miss Montgomery?” Sanjay says from the other side of the door. “John?” He tries to turn the doorknob.
“Go away,” I growl.
“Okay,” he says, “but Iris is here with some dresses and a tailor? For your girlfriend? Iris said she has to leave in forty minutes, tops.”
“Shit,” I say under my breath. I forgot she was coming. If it were just the tailor, I’d send him away, but I’ll never hear the endof it from Iris if I waste her time. “Tell them I’ll be there in ten minutes and Olivia will join them in fifteen. Go away now.”
“Yep!” he says, and I can hear him speed-walk down the hall.
I rest my forehead against Olivia’s sternum, gather up my strength, slide my hands under her ass, and catapult myself up. She wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her across the room, setting her feet down in front of the ballet barre and the mirrored wall.
When I see her face, I almost laugh, because she looks as frustrated as I feel. She reaches back to grip the barre, frowning at me. Her one breast is still exposed. She’s still breathing heavily. I look down to find her toes curled tightly, feet slightly turned out, her thighs squeezing together.
“Motherfucker…” she whispers.
I place my hands on her shoulders, turning her to face the mirror. She rests her hands lightly on the barre again as she crosses one leg in front of the other.
“Olivia…” I brush aside the wisps of hair that cover her neck and kiss the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. “I enjoyed that advanced form of torture a great deal. I can see that you’re frustrated, so I’m going to make you come.” I watch her reflection in the mirror as I reach around to massage her breast with one hand and slowly slide my other hand inside her pants. “You have to stay quiet.”
She nods and licks her lips.
“I don’t have an adequate amount of time right now to devote to worshipping your body as it should be worshipped… Fuck…” My fingers dip between her legs, where it is impossibly slick with arousal. “God, you’re so wet…”
My eyes squeeze shut for a second as I allow myself to imagine how incredible it would feel to press my cock inside her. But I can’t.
I open my eyes and stare at her reflection again, watching her head drop back when I flatten my fingers against her clit and rub in circles. She presses into my hand. “I am willing to give you the condensed version of what I can offer you, because I have a feeling you’ve never experienced the level of pleasure I’m capable of giving you.”
She exhales a haughty little laugh and then catches her breath, gripping the barre harder when I pinch her nipple and form a V with my fingers, sliding them alongside her clit with just the right amount of pressure.
“You don’t believe me?” I slip two fingers inside her so easily. She rises up onto the balls of her feet, clenching around my fingers as I pump them up and down. I slide my fingers out and in. Out and in. My hand is drenched in warm, silky liquid. “You don’t think I’m going to fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked?”
I watch as she struggles to find her voice, finally eking out, “We’ll see.”
I finger fuck her vigorously. I don’t stop until she’s been tensing and writhing around, shaking and shimmying for almost a full minute, coming all over my hand before going very still and rigid. Then I focus on her clit again, slow things down, and watch her come back from some far-off place.
She is so fucking beautiful. It’s too much. This is what I’ll see every time I close my eyes for the rest of my life—her eyes closed, head tilted back, lips parted, long neck arched, breasts full and heaving. When she says my name, she sounds bewildered and possessive, and I love it.
I keep my hand flat against her skin as I pull it out from her wretchedly soaked panties and sweatpants.
Olivia is satisfied. This is enough—for her. This would be enough for me if I were some stringy-haired, leather-jacket-wearing, cliché rose-wielding shithead who isn’t capable ofmaking billions of dollars or bringing a woman to orgasm more than once.
I turn her around to face me, cradle her face with my hands, and kiss her deeply. So passionately, I know it stuns her. She moans into my mouth, and I can feel it when her knees get weak. She reaches back to hold herself up, gripping the barre again. I grab that loose bun, tilting her head back. I kiss down her neck, slowly lowering myself to my knees as I kiss down the front of her gorgeous body.
