Licking my lips, I rise to my feet, satisfied. She’s trembling, leaning on me for support.
“Tell me that wasn’t better than showing you around the house,” I say with a grin.
“What house?” She grabs me and covers my lips with hers, sliding her tongue inside my mouth as she presses against me. My cock strains against my pants. I’m about to carry her over to the bed when she slides down the length of my body. As soon as she’s on her knees, she frees my cock, making a sound of approval as her fingers curl around me.
Her hand feels great, but it’s nothing close to her mouth. When she slides her lips over me, my breath leaves my body.
I surrender to her touch, my eyes closing as she works her lips and tongue around me until my brain stops functioning. I support my weight on the door behind her, rocking into her mouth, trying and failing to hold back.
She cups my balls, stroking gently, and I can’t take it anymore. I barely manage to warn her before I explode in her mouth.
She meets my gaze, licking her lips. Jesus! Everything she does turns me on. Drawing her to her feet, I dispense with her dress and bra then get rid of my clothes.
My bed is a king-size four-poster. I sco
op Rachel by her waist and carry her over to one of the posts. Wordlessly, she curls her fingers around the polished wood, grabbing hold as I tug her hips backward, toward me, and enter her from behind.
Christ she feels good.
She backs her hips up to meet my thrusts, moaning without reservation. I want to fuck her forever, to feel her fall to pieces again and again. I stroke my fingers across her back then find her breasts, squeezing gently and teasing the hard nubs of her nipples. I change my pace, going slow then fast, feeling her orgasm over and over until she’s spent.
My release, when it finally comes, wrecks me. I barely keep myself from collapsing on the floor. We both make it onto the bed and lie in a tangled heap. Her head is on my chest, her eyes closed. Gently, I stroke her hair.
Her eyes open and she lifts her gaze to mine. She studies me silently without saying a word.
My hand stills on her hair. “What are you thinking?”
She shrugs. “How good this feels, just lying here with you.”
I pull her closer to me. “I know what you mean. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be.”
She sighs and moves closer still, her body burrowing into mine. It feels incredible to be so close to her, to feel her warm, smooth skin sliding against mine.
What did I do before this? Before her?
I kiss her hair. “Are you hungry?”
She nods. “Starving.”
“It’s eight.” I get up, regretting the moment her body slides away from mine. “Dinner’s probably waiting for us.” In the closet, I find two robes and return to the bed to hand her one. A dinner tray is waiting in the private sitting room outside my bedroom, along with a chilled bottle of wine.
“Wilson seems to know what you want when you have guests over,” Rachel says, watching as I uncover the dishes. Her voice is deceptively light. “Does he have a lot of practice?”
I give her a teasing grin. “You can ask if I’ve brought a lot of women here. Your jealousy flatters me, actually.”
“So?” She’s smiling. “Have you?”
“No,” I say truthfully. “Never.” The house is not a place of good memories. I still can’t explain why I brought her here. It felt almost like I needed to, but I’ve never had that feeling with another woman.
She doesn’t look convinced. Her eyebrows go up. “Not one?”
“I’m not the playboy the gossip magazines make me out to be. I’ve had a few relationships, all with women who knew what the terms were.” I only use relationships for want of a better word. There was never any emotional connection, and there were never any promises.
A shadow crosses her face. “Like me?”
I hand her a glass of wine. “There has never been anyone like you.”
She doesn’t reply, and I wonder if she even believes me, or cares. I set out the food, waiting for her to say something.