“Or what?” Elijah stands up and takes me with him, my ass pressed to his lap, feet dangling off the ground. As if I weigh nothing more than a child. It only lasts for a couple mind-blowing seconds, though, before he settles me on the ground behind his desk. His heat begins to leave me and I sense my chance slipping away, so I twist around to face him. Still mere inches away from me, he pauses with his head tipped forward, hands flexing at his sides. “We could be more than friends.” After easing myself backwards onto the desk, I snag his necktie and tug him closer, guiding his hips between my open thighs. “Just for tonight.”
His laugh is more like a rough expulsion of air, the scent of bourbon hitting me. “That’s not how things work,” he says, his palms scraping up my thighs, twisting in the hem of my dress. “Goddammit, Addison. You’re not supposed to tempt me like this.”
Tempted. He’s tempted. My blood cells crash together. “I don’t always do what I’m supposed to,” I murmur, leaning up to bring our mouths close, a breath separating them. “If I wasn’t your friend, would you kiss me right now?”
His eyes fasten on my mouth, seeming darker than usual. Predatory. “You felt what you did to my cock, sugar. You know the answer to that.”
Elijah’s uncharacteristic use of filth sends moisture rushing to the apex of my thighs. Prickles crawl in every direction on my skin, leaving goosebumps behind. “Aren’t you curious what you did to me?” I rest my fingers on his belt buckle a second, before letting them travel down, closing them around his huge, heavy flesh, massaging him there and feeling him swell. “You own this city now, Mr. Mayor. Right now, that includes what’s under my dress.”
“Ahhh, fuck. That’s enough.” His mouth drops to my cleavage, his tongue skating over the right slope, the left, turning my nerve endings to zapping little spark plugs. “We have to stop this. You’re my—”
“Friend. Believe me, I know.”
I squeeze his hips between my thighs and he yanks my bottom closer on the desk, hesitating for two breaths, before pressing his arousal up against my wet panties. “Fuuuck,” he roars, bucking against me, snarling into my neck. “We can’t.”
“Yes, we can.” My teeth rattle at another drive of his hips. “If we weren’t friends, you’d already be inside me. So deep. Your pants would be unzipped and my thong would be hanging out of your pocket.”
“Stop.”
“What if we’re not friends for the night?” I whine a little in my throat when he goes still, his fevered eyes lifting to mine. “I’m just your shiny new secretary and I want to give you everything you need.”
“A couple problems with that. I don’t have some ridiculous secretary fetish.” He kneads my bottom in a rough massage. “And I have eyes, Addison. I’ll know exactly who I’m inside of.”
My fingers draw his attention as they lift to my neckline and tug the material down, low enough for my breasts to pop free. “Would that be so bad?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Elijah
The public has spoken.
This booty is reporting for duty.
—Twitter @DuPontBadonk
Would that be so bad?
No. The problem is it could be so good. Too good.
I’ve been a bad friend. Ever since the morning I walked in on Addison getting ready for her run and she treated my butt like molding clay, I’ve been thinking things I shouldn’t. Dreaming up fantasies that I was wrong to have. My favorite one is Addison climbing into my bed at night and telling me she’s cold, asking me to warm her up…until things get out of control. It’s my favorite fantasy because I get to take care of her, using my body heat to stop her shivering. If that’s where it ended, maybe my conscience could have remained in the clear. But it always ends with me tugging her panties down to her knees, my cock rifling in and out of her as she cries out “Elijah” into my pillow.
Now I’ve got her ass in my hands, and Christ, the fantasies were nothing compared to this. She’s seducing me. Everything about her is turned up to full volume. The persuasive purr in her voice, her body language, the words coming out of her mouth. And it hits me hard that she’s been holding so much of herself back. I don’t know this Addison. I don’t know this girl who looks almost shy while she’s spreading her thighs, then says things that make my cock throb.
Possessiveness crackles in my middle, before starting to burn. I’m supposed to know everything about her. Are there people out there who know Addison as this bedroom-eyed temptation? It doesn’t help my jealousy that she was almost set up with Preston tonight. No. The memory is like throwing gasoline on a fire. “Is this how you behave with men?” I grind her against my lap, darkly satisfied when her mouth opens on a gasp. “Have you been out with any men since you came to Charleston?”