“You smell great,” he rasps.
My face heats. When men go down on you, it’s usually because they want you to suck their cock later. A little quid pro quo extra-credit work, rather than something they’re doing because they really want to. And they make sure you know it, if not explicitly then by overtly hinting at it, in case you’re—God forbid—too obtuse.
But not Emmett. He sighs appreciatively and closes his mouth over my lady parts like he’s dying for it. I gasp as his tongue flicks around, his hands sliding up, up, up until they cup my breasts, his fingers toying with the beaded nipples.
Intense bliss radiates all over—from my nipples, my clit…from the absolute core of who I am. Everywhere he touches turns into an erogenous zone.
A climax builds abruptly, slamming into me with a force that leaves me punch-drunk. Air catches in my lungs and my vision dims. Even as I struggle for breath, he rises and kisses me, his tongue invading my mouth. I kiss him back, desperate for more of him. For the pleasure only he can give.
He grips my ass, digging his fingers in, kneading possessively. I love the rough handling. It says so much about how little control he has left.
“Your ass is killing me,” he whispers between kisses.
“I think my everything is killing you.”
He lets out a laugh, dark with need.
Shooting him a saucy grin, I turn around and bend over the desk, my arms stretched out, my hands together. I tilt my pelvis, giving him a view of the ass he loves so much.
He curses under his breath. Bet his underwear is wet with precum.
“Put your cock in me.” My voice is dreamy with anticipation.
“You telling me what to do? Who’s the boss here, anyway?” He slaps my ass, the sting wringing a gasp out of me; I’m half surprised and half turned on. “Patience.”
He undoes his buckles and fastener. There’s the hiss of a zipper and the ripping of foil. Then his cock is pushing at the entrance of my dripping pussy.
I expected him to drive in hard, like on Sunday. But his movements are unhurried. Smooth. Each leisurely thrust lays another film of honey-sweet pleasure over me, until I’m drowning in the simple, hot joy of having him inside. Sweat mists over my bare skin, and I arch my back, pressing against him, wanting him to up the tempo.
Instead, he grips my hips and controls the pace completely. His absolute dominance over both himself and my body drives me crazy, until I’m whimpering and begging.
An orgasm begins to shimmer like the sun rising on the horizon. He drives me toward it as I reach for it. When it finally breaks over me, it isn’t frenzied like before, but as deep and powerful as the vast ocean. And I cry out his name endlessly.
No matter what happens, I’m never going to regret this fling with Emmett Lasker.
Chapter Twenty-One
Amy
Emmett and I disembark from his jet on Friday at three forty p.m. “I still can’t believe you told everyone in the office this was a work trip,” I say.
“You don’t want anybody to know what we’re really up to, right? And I didn’t feel like waiting until evening. The view’s prettier at sunset.”
Emmett isn’t showing the least bit of guilt over the lies he fed everyone about needing to do an in-depth review of the distribution partners for Bernie’s water filter venture. There are two in San Diego that Bernie’s considering.
“Do I need to make a PowerPoint presentation or draft an executive memo?”
He gives me a blank look. “For what?”
“So we have some work deliverables to show on Monday? I can probably mock something up that looks decent enough in a couple of hours, as long as you don’t expect perfection from a prop.”
He waves away my offer. “That’s already taken care of. I told you, all you have to do is show up.”
Wow. He really meant what he said.
Well, in that case, I’m just going to sit back and relax. Since he’s a perfectionist, whatever he’s put together probably looks amazing. I’ll just soak up the atmosphere here and think about our dive adventure. I googled some underwater photos, and they looked great. In person should be incredible.
The drive to La Jolla takes less than half an hour once we load our rental SUV, waiting for us on the tarmac by the runway. I’ve never been to San Diego before—no time—and love how different it feels. A lot more casual and relaxed.