Carver
Every cell in my body misfires, urging me to reach out and take her up on her offer before she comes to her senses. With a normal woman, that's what I would do. She asked for me. She dared me to do it.
But this isn't just another woman.
I search her eyes for any sign that she misspoke, that she's reconsidering her words. All I get back is a sexy smile that could get her anything she wants. And if thatanythinghappens to be my cock, it's not my place to say no.
"Spread your legs."
It's a simple command, one that puts the ball in her court ... before my balls get put elsewhere. Her tongue darts out, swiping along her bottom lip. She leans back against the island, gripping the ledge with her hands behind her, and does as instructed.
"Like this?" she asks with an innocence so spot-on, I wonder how contrived it really is.
"Farther."
Her gaze not leaving mine, she widens her stance.
She's so sexy and it's not completely because she's curvy and intelligent and quick as a whip. It's because it's her, in my kitchen, waiting on me to touch her. To have her. To enjoy her.
And fuck if I'm not going to enjoy her.
Reaching out, I see her chest rise and fall in anticipation. Instead of giving her the relief she wants, that I want, I place the pad of my finger on the top button of her blouse. She watches me with bated breath, her body curving towards mine.
With one step, I'm in her personal space, straddling one of her legs. My cock rubs against her as I lean in and release the clasp on the top button. Then the next. With each button that's undone, I get harder. By the time her chest is completely exposed, the nude-colored lace barely containing her swollen breasts, I'm almost ready to come in my pants.
"God, Amity," I say, watching the round globes move as she breathes. "You're fucking gorgeous."
Her skin is ivory, pale, dotted by a few beauty marks along the ridges of her chest. She's looks like a gift that's just been unwrapped, something that's being seen for the first time.
She lifts her arms, the shirt slipping off her shoulder, as she winds her hands in the back of my hair. At her encouraging, I touch my lips to hers.
She takes charge, keeping pressure on the back of my head as she moves her mouth against mine. As the seconds pass by, the intensity grows. Her lips part and I waste no time tasting her, rolling our tongues together in a frenzied, I've-been-waiting-for-this-forever kind of way.
Against her silent objection, I pull away and step back. She struggles to catch her breath as I shrug out of my shirt. "Take off your shirt and bra," I tell her, tossing mine onto a chair. I slip out of my shoes and pants. When I look back up, she's leaned back against the island in nothing but a pair of black heels and a grey pencil skirt.
"You play a damn good sexy secretary," I say, sidling up to her again.
"With that body," she says, dragging a nail down my chest, "I'll let you be mine. Maybe."
"Maybe?" I laugh, kissing her just below the ear and witnessing a set of goose bumps break out across her skin.
"How well do you follow orders?"
"Probably," I say, moving in front of her, "about as good as you."
"Then we're both fucked," she giggles.
"If things go right, we will be."
A little gasp escapes her lips as I grip her legs with both hands, sliding my fingers up her smooth, heated skin. She gasps again as I reach the curves that ends at the apex of her thighs.
YOU ARE READING
Battle of the Sexes
RomantikCOMPLETED Carver Jones' partner at Jones + Gallum had to step down for medical reasons. He's absolutely devastated. He swears. Just ignore his cheeky grin, okay? When word reaches his fancy corner office that Gallum is replacing himself with his da...