Hot through the fabric. Hard, and bigger than I have any way to measure. The shape of him fills my whole hand, and I have no idea what I’m doing. I spread my fingers, and he tenses. The sound he makes is low and breaks at the edge, and I feel it in my chest.
I curl my hand around him as best I can through the cotton, and his hips jerk forward once. His forehead grinds into my shoulder, and his back goes rigid under my other hand as the breath leaves him in a rush. I did that. I squeezed, and his whole body answered. The knowledge goes through me, hot and dizzying.Idid that, and I want to do it again.
His hand closes on my wrist. He lifts it off him. “Not yet.” His voice is shattered. “You first.”
He pulls my jeans down my thighs. I lift for him, and he hooks my underwear, dragging it down and off so I’m bare from the waist down in his office. The only thought in my head ismore.
He kneels between my knees and looks at me. Dark, intense, waiting.
I put my hand on the back of his head and pull.
His mouth touches me, and the sound that rips out of me shocks me.
His tongue—one slow stroke through me—and my spine arches off the cushion. My thighs clamp around his head before I can stop them. My hand wrenches in his hair. I’ve touched myself. I know what that feels like. This is not that. This is hotter and softer, and he is patient in a way I am not, slow circles that make me want to scream at him to go faster and also never, ever stop, and my hips are already trying to chase it.
His hands slide under me and grip my ass, tipping me up to his mouth. Then his lips close around my clit and he sucks—
My hips fly off the couch.
“Carmine—”
He does it again. Lips and tongue, a rhythm that builds and builds, and I cannot hold still. I push into his mouth, and I don’t care how I look doing it. I don’t care about anything except his tongue and his hands and the orgasm climbing through me so fast that I can barely breathe.
His fingers slide through where I’m soaked, and he pushes two thick fingers inside me, slow and twisting.
Oh my god.
The stretch is nothing like my own hand, and I gasp, heels digging into his shoulders. He curls his fingers and hits a spot that whites out my vision. His mouth never stops. Tongue and lips and those fingers curling in the same slow rhythm, and I’m making sounds I didn’t know were in me, a high, helpless string of them with his name caught in the middle more than once.
It builds past anything I’ve ever done to myself. Deeper, hotter, climbing so fast there’s no ceiling to it and I couldn’t slow down if I wanted to and I don’t want to—I want him to take me there, I want to let go completely—
I come so hard I scream.
My whole body locks, one long clenching wave, and then I’m shaking apart with his name torn out of me, thighs locked around his head, one fist in his hair and one fist full of couch cushion. It keeps cresting—rolling through me and rolling again—and it’s so far past anything I’ve felt alone in my bed that I can’t form words, just sound.
His mouth slows. His hand goes still. My thighs fall open and my hand drops from his hair and I’m breathing in ragged pulls, shaking everywhere.
He comes up over me, frames my face in his hands, and kisses me. I can taste myself on his mouth. I whimper against his lips. My hands flatten on his chest and his heart is slamming under my palms—as fast as mine—and he kisses me slow and deep, in no hurry at all. I melt into it with my fingers curling in his shirt.
He drops onto the couch beside me and pulls me into his side. I put my cheek to his chest. His heart’s still going. He’s still hard—I can feel it against my hip.
I reach for his belt.
He catches my hand and presses his mouth to my knuckles, one at a time, slowly, then folds my fingers down and keeps them in his.
“Next time.”
CHAPTER 7
CARMINE
We need you up front.”
Ford’s in the office doorway, one glove half off. When I glance up, his forehead is creased, and what looks like fear and fury are battling in his face.
He instantly has my attention. “I’m in the middle of something. What’s going on?”
“You need to get there. Now. Clarissa’s in trouble. Her dad is here.”
