Kissing my older boss after also having fun with his friends is a terrible plan… but how can I resist when he keeps looking at me like he wants to devour me whole?
As the kiss intensifies, his fingertips press into the small of my back, anchoring me, and I taste the sharp sweetness of black coffee on his breath.
The rough edge of his stubble scrapes my lower lip as he tilts my head, deepening the kiss until I’m gasping.
His hands roam, fingertips trailing sparks down my arms, then looping around my waist so firmly I can feel the ridges of his palms against my ribs. He pulls me impossibly closer, body to body, and I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
The coarse linen of my top crumples under his grip. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat, vibrating through my chest.
“Fuck, Aurora…” he breathes against me, sounding like a man who has finally lost control.
My pulse spikes. He slides his thumbs along the curve beneath my bra strap, just grazing skin, barely there, and I shiver against him. He smiles against my mouth, that wicked tilt to his lips that sparks both longing and warning.
“You like that,” he murmurs.
I should deny it, but heat floods my cheeks. I throw caution to the wind. I cup his shoulders, push him closer, and when he guides me back until my hip bangs the edge of the bar, I don’t resist.
“Up,” he orders, rougher now.
My legs wrap around him as I climb onto the bar’s lacquered surface. The polished wood presses cold against my thighs while he stands between my knees, the bar’s sconce light outlining his broad shoulders and the hard line of his jaw.
His hands greedily trace the outside of my legs, thumbs brushing over my inner thighs with a slowness that makes nerves ignite.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers, eyes locked on mine, dark and glinting. His fingers tease the zipper of my jeans, but don’t pull.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, ready to beg him to stop, to slow down, but he crushes my lips with another kiss, fiercer than the last. His arms tighten around me, hauling me flush to his chest. The friction of his hard length against my thigh sends a fresh wave of warmth straight to my core.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck, desperate to anchor myself, to keep from flying apart in the onslaught of sensation. I can smell the faint sharpness of his aftershave, the trace of the sweetness of cedar. My hands are trembling, and I hope he can’t tell as he finally frees me from my jeans.
I yelp, startled, as the chilly air kisses my bare skin. He swallows the noise with his tongue, then breaks the kiss to look at me, that gaze like a hand braced flat against my sternum. It pinions me. My shirt is rucked up to my chin.
“Ryder,” I gasp, trembling.
The jeans pool on the floor, and my panties vanish in a swift motion of his fingers. Then he descends in front of me.
“Oh shit, Ryder, are you…?”
Fuck. His mouth is on me, tongue parting my folds, and electricity crackles up my spine. Every stroke of his tongue fans flames across my nerves. My hands flatten on the bar, nails gouging shallow crescents into the wood.
“Oh shit,” I moan, hips arching.
He alternates between circling my clit with feather-light licks and slow, pressing sucks that have me teetering on the edge. The world narrows to his mouth, the thunder in my veins, and the frantic drumming of my heart.
“Don’t stop,” I beg as the pressure of pleasure builds. “Never stop.”
He groans, the sound vibrating through me, and the overwhelming reality of what I’ve done, what I’m doing, stings like cold water in my chest, but I can’t stop now.
It’s not that I’m powerless; it’s that every bit of power I have is fused into this slipstream of sensation and the bright, burning focus Ryder gives me. His hands massage my thighs, and his mouth is wicked, powerful, relentless. I’m vaguely aware that someone could walk in at any second, but the idea only makes me tremble more.
I fist his hair, tugging, anchoring myself to him, but I’m floating miles above the bar, nothing but pulse and heat and reckless, tingling want threading me together.
Just when my vision flashes white, he backs away, lips glistening. I’m left trembling, clinging to the bar’s edge as pleasure recedes like a tide. He zips his jeans down in one swift motion, face dark with need. There’s a deliciously gleeful spark in his eyes.
And I now need to play with him the way he did me.
I drop to my knees, the floor cool under me. He presses between my thighs, and the tip of him grazes my lips. I flick out a lick of my tongue, just to tease him a little.
He hisses through his teeth, pupils blown, and I savor the sound. I lick him again, slower this time, dragging the flat of my tongue from root to tip before taking him into my mouth, savoring the weight and heat.
