He quirks his eyebrow and, without another word, leans over me and flicks the tip of his tongue over my nipple. I squirm and buck underneath him, reaching to grab whatever I can find to hold him in place. I dig my fingernails into the back of his shoulder blades.
“More,” I demand, surprising myself with the daring and brazen command. He rears back, but I don’t let him get far, tugging his head back to my breast.
I squeeze his hips with my thighs, wanting to feel more of him. Wishing my leggings and my panties weren’t in the way of what I want most.All of him.
Desire runs like molten lava through my veins the moment he circles the taut peak again and then sucks it into his mouth with a satisfied groan. His mouth on my breast sends shock waves down my body and straight to my swollen and throbbing clit. My head lolls to the side as Marek sweeps a tongue over one stiff nipple, and then the other breast, before he props himself up with his palm flat on the table next to my head.
Marek’s breathing is labored as he tears his mouth off my breast and works his way down, skimming over my sensitive skin on a path to my belly.
I crane my neck and look down at the top of his head where my fingers are still lodged with a firm grip in his hair. My core muscles clench as the stubble of his beard scrapes lightly over my stomach, lighting up every inch of my flesh.
“Marek” I whisper, my mind a jumbled mess and clouded with uncertainty of what I want or need from him.
He raises his eyes to connect with mine, his face breathtakingly gorgeous as he searches my face for the question. But the question seems to vanish when he gives me a heart-stopping, sexy grin.
He dips the tip of his tongue into my navel and flicks it, tickling me with the torturous action as I buck my hips at the sensation, while he swirls the flat of his tongue in wide circles before dragging his mouth down to the waistband of my thin leggings. I suck in a breath when he slips his hand inside and it disappears under the material.
And then he hits the jackpot, his finger gliding over my panties that are already wet before he boldly tugs at the edge and pulls the silky material to the side. I don’t breathe until the moment his finger slides through my wet opening.
I fist his hair tighter in my grasp, the tension mirroring how my body tightens under his ministrations, his thumb strumming over my sensitive clit like he’s a musician playing an instrument. I convulse with pleasure, moaning out his name again as if singing along with the chorus.
“Do you like this?” he asks, his voice raspy with lust, circling the nub again before dipping a finger inside my folds. His finger tunnels in and then withdraws, swirling the wet heat over my clit. “Or this?”
I don’t have words; I simply groan an embarrassingly loud noise of pleasure, punching my hips upwards in the universal sign for more.
His mouth returns to mine, kissing me hard, his tongue sweeping inside to mimic the rhythm of his thumb and fingers that move inside me.
The intensity builds with each stroke of his tongue, with each little flick of his thumb, my body taking over when my mind is no longer occupied by rational thought. Everything tightens and ignites as a thunderous cacophony of sound crescendos inside my head, my body exploding in pleasure and bright white lights.
My core clenches and convulses as I cry out through the beginning of my orgasm. My breathing is ragged as I soar off that cliff and float through the weightless ether of my climax.
I’m in an endorphin-induced haze as my body finally goes limp and my arms fall heavy to my sides. I peel my lids open to find Marek breathing hard and fast, his hair a tangled mess. I stare up at him, unable to read his expression, although the dark lust in his eyes seems to have vanished and, in its place, looks to be uncertainty.
I expect him to want to continue what we started. I know I sure want more of that. Instead of helping me sit up or dropping his pants so we can get busy with more, Marek takes a giant step backward, away from the V of my open legs that still dangle over the edge of the table.
I scramble to sit, propping myself up on my elbows. I reach out one hand for him, my eyes darting to the bulge still very evident in his pants. I roll the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip.
“Where are you going in such a hurry, Big Man? I haven’t reciprocated.”
He takes another step back in retreat. My brows furrow in confusion and horror. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Marek is second-guessing what just happened. He scrubs a hand down his face like he did earlier after our first kiss.
“That’s exactly the problem. Fuck, this was a mistake, Harper. I put you in a position where you now believe I expect you to reciprocate the favor. Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He says this on repeat, his head bent down as he paces, palm covering his eyes as if to hide his shame.
I’m stunned by his reaction and confused where it’s coming from.
Jumping from the table, I adjust my sweatshirt and bra and move toward him, reaching out to grasp his wrist to get him to stop his frantic pacing. I pull his hand away from his face.
“Marek, that was 100 percent consensual. And in normal sexual relations, it’s common for each partner to receive something out of it. It’s a give and take.” I rub my palm over his rock-hard erection, which jumps under my touch. “This is me trying togive back.”
I don’t get the reaction I expect. He gently brushes my hand away from his crotch and turns to face the kitchen countertop, throwing his hand out behind him as a barrier.
“I’m sorry, Harper. If you were anyone else, and the situation were different, I would…but you’re not. I was weak in the moment, caught up in you, but I shouldn’t have done that. We can’t do that again.”
Rejection floods my neck and face with heated humiliation.
“Oh, I see…” I trail off, tears of shame flooding my eyes. Apparently, I’m not good enough for the Big Man. Not sophisticated like his ex-wife or the other women he dates. He doesn’t want to slum it with me.
That’s the only reason I can see why he’d stop this with his sudden change of heart. Otherwise, why not go for more? We’re two consenting adults. He’s not my boss. He’s not in a position of power over me. There’s no coercion. No this for that.