Page 143

Her mouth is a pert pout, and her delight is blatant. “He must’ve paid a premium.”

I give a low rumble of assent, my abs responding to the trail of her brazen fingers, the rumble deepening as her tongue flicks over the flat of my nipple. I force myself to stand still as she touches and teases, as she palms my cock through the fabric of my pants.

“My husband has excellent taste.” She grips over my hard length.

“Fuck yeah, he does.” Without finesse, I pull the sweater over her head. Black bra and pale skin, nipples taut beneath the lace. My thumbs grazing the hardened buds. With a gentle moan, she arches into my touch.

I want to take her to bed, press my want into her skin and my touch into her cells. But I’m already breaking the rules, starting things in the apartment. I just pray she doesn’t pull away.

“I hope your husband knows how lucky he is.” I skim my hands over her silken shoulders, then drop my mouth to the side of her neck. Breathe her in.

“You’d have to ask him.”

“He’d say he wants you so badly that he can barely think straight.” I flick the button of her jeans and count to five before sliding them down her legs. “Step out.”

She does, and I press her back against the fridge before kissing her the way I want to fuck her. Slowly, thoroughly, and without coming up for air. My hand clasps her left wrist, and I press a kiss to her palm before sliding it above her head. I lift the other, and her breath catches as I hold her there. Like a butterfly pinned.

“What happens now?” She’s all fast breath and dark-eyed want.

“Well now,” I say, swapping my hold on her to one hand. “Now I’m gonna get you off.” I sink my hand into her panties and, to our joint delight, find her already wet. “Baby, you’re so slick.” I whisper my praise as I trace the shape of her with the pads of two fingers. “So soft. And all for me.”

“F-for my husband.”

My gut tightens so pleasurably. “Too bad he’s not here, huh?” With a whimper, she flattens her back against the fridge. “That’s it, sweet thing. Slide those feet wide.” I nudge the side of her right foot with mine. “You look so, so pretty like this. So fuckable.” The sight of her drives me wild. “Do you think your husband would like to see you held down, and at my mercy?”

“I don’t know.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Would he?”

“Maybe we should send him some photographs.” I give her wrists a gentle squeeze, a silent instruction to keep her hands where they are. I pull my phone from my back pocket.

My first shot is of the valley of her cleavage. The next, the slope of her neck. The triangle of her panties, my hand sunk under the fabric. Her expression as I push a testing finger inside.

“You think he’ll like them?” I withdraw. Replace one finger with two. “Or shall I keep them as a memento.”

“That’s . . . oh, God.”

“You’re right, I should keep them.”

“F-fair’s fair,” she mewls.

“Ah, honey, you’re so sweet.” I work her, all slow tease and appreciative hum until she’s writhing for more. “And so fuckin’ sexy.”

“You’re just saying that b . . . b . . .” Her eyes follow the line of my bicep, her chest rising and falling with her tight little breaths.

“Because he’s paying me to? He said I’m not allowed to taste you, but that doesn’t sound fair. Does it?”

She shakes her head in staccato. “He doesn’t own me.”

“Oh, but I think he’d like to. Yeah, just like that,” I whisper as she begins to move with my touch.

“Oh, God.”

“No, darlin’. Not God. I’m just the man paid to make you come.”

“F-fighting words.” The corner of my mouth hooks up at her valiant attempt at sass. “I don’t even know your name,” she mutters as I palm her clit, trading gentle strokes for come-here curls. Come here. Come right now.

“You can call me Al, baby. Al Nightlong.”

Her velvet walls contract around my fingers as I bend to swallow her mirth.