“As long as you don’t greet him naked, I think you’ll be fine.”
I’m sputtering, about to complain further, but I’m silenced again by Crew’s mouth. That humming sound he makes when our lips first connect, as if he can never, ever get enough of me. I’m lost to the taste of him. The feel of him. His hands grip my hips, his mouth hungrily moving over mine, and I wind my arms around him, clutching him close.
He slides his hands down, his fingers catching on the fabric of my dress, pulling it up, exposing my thighs. I moan when he slips his knee in between them, lifting up, rubbing it against me. A moan leaves me, and I turn away from his mouth, tilting my head back against the wall as I try to catch my breath.
“You’re wet,” he observes, his knee nudging the front of my panties.
“I’ve missed you,” I admit as I strain toward him.
His gaze darkens as he stares at me. “I could fuck you right in this hallway.”
“In front of the art?” I glance around. “The paintings of your ancestors?”
He looks over his shoulder, scowling at the massive portrait of the man with ice blue eyes that resemble Crew’s. “He’s the original Augustus Lancaster.”
“He looks mean.”
“You have to be, to amass a fortune like he did.” He dips his head, his mouth brushing mine once. Twice. His tongue sneaking out for a lick. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Take me to your room then so we can do it on a bed,” I suggest, my fingers curling into the front of his expensive hoodie.
The smile on his face is wicked. Breathtaking. “Let’s go.”
I pause, grabbing hold of his sleeve to stop him. “I forgot my lipstick.”
“You actually brought it?”
I nod, suddenly shy. “It’s in my bag. I left it in the foyer with my boots.”
“Let’s go get it.”
We grab my tiny purse I left on top of my boots and take it back to Crew’s room, which is massive. He has an entire wall of windows too, with that same spectacular view of the city. The walls are painted a rich, deep gray and his bed is draped in a pale gray duvet. The furniture is low and sleek, made of dark wood and there’s a giant mirror that hangs over the dresser. I can see the entire bed, meaning we could probably…
Watch ourselves, if we wanted to.
Crew walks up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist, his mouth on my neck. I keep my gaze glued to the mirror, watching him as one hand slips up, toying with the ruffled neckline of my dress. “I liked that you dressed up for me.”
“I wanted to look pretty,” I tell him and my reflection.
He’s got both hands on my breasts now, cupping them, drawing his thumbs back and forth across the front of my bodice. “I always think you look pretty.”
I tilt my head back until I’m resting it on his shoulder, my gaze still on the mirror as Crew molds my breasts with his hands. My body aches, that delicious throb between my thighs increasing in tempo with every touch. His mouth is on my neck, his teeth and tongue, and I hiss out a breath when he bites my earlobe.
“Are you watching us in the mirror?” he murmurs in my ear.
I nod, not even embarrassed.
“Kinky girl.” His voice rings with approval and there’s no containing the smile that spreads across my face. “Let’s take these off.”
He hitches my dress up a little, exposing my white lacy panties and he studies me in the mirror, his gaze zeroed in on my crotch. The way the fabric clings to me because I’m wet.
The dress falls over my panties, hiding them from my gaze when he reaches for the waistband of my underwear. He kneels behind me, easing my panties down, until I’m stepping out of them and he’s kissing the back of my knees.
My thighs.
I choke out a gasp when he slides his finger inside me from behind. I clench around him, making him groan.
“Spread your legs,” he demands, and I do as I’m told, the skirt of my dress confining me, my thighs only parting a few inches. It doesn’t deter him. His hands come up to my hips, gathering up the fabric, so it’s out of his way and mine before he starts to lick me from behind.
“Oh God,” I moan, my eyelids heavy as his tongue spears inside me. His hands grip me tight enough to bruise, my entire lower half exposed. I can hear him lick and suck, the sound of his tongue slicking through my juices, watching him kneeling behind me in the mirror, feeling him do what he’s doing to me sends me closer and closer to the edge.
I lean forward, pressing my butt against his face as he consumes me. Until I’m shuddering, coming with a whimper. A moan. Grateful he has a hold on me or else I would’ve slipped to the floor. The orgasm left me weak.
He rises up to tower over me, spinning me around so I’m facing him. I stare up at him in a daze, letting him kiss me, his hand slipping between us to stroke me from the front this time. “So easy, making you come.”
“It felt so good,” I whisper.
“When I fuck you, I want you to watch in the mirror, okay? I know that’s what got you off, Birdy.” His dark tone tells me he likes that I watched. That I enjoyed it.
“Okay,” I agree weakly, not even protesting when he unzips my dress and pushes it off my shoulders, revealing that I’m not wearing a bra.
My nipples are hard and aching. My entire body throbs, demanding his attention. He sheds my dress quickly, until I’m completely naked, and he’s got me on the bed sprawled out while he stands beside it and removes his clothes.
“I wanted to take my time with you,” he murmurs as he studies me. “Savor you. It’s been a week since the last time we were like this.”
I nod, shifting my legs, restless. There’s a buzz beneath my skin that makes me squirm and it has everything to do with him.
“But you make me too impatient,” he continues, his gaze drifting down the length of me. “Touch yourself.”
I go completely still, remembering how he asked me to do this last time. “Do you like watching me touch myself?”
“I want to see you rub your clit. Make yourself come again.”
I settle my hand in between my legs, suddenly shy. It’s the middle of the afternoon. There’s so much light spilling into the room, I can hide nothing. I’m on complete and total display.
“Spread your legs wider. I want to see all of you.” He settles on the bottom of the mattress, his gaze zeroed in on the spot between my legs.
I push them open wider, my jaw dropping when I watch him wrap his fingers around his shaft and begin stroking. I brush my fingers against my clit, whimpering at how sensitive it is.
“Hurts?” he asks.
I nod. “A little.”
“Keep rubbing,” he urges, and I do.
We stare at each other as we touch ourselves, and it is the hottest thing I think we’ve ever done. My fingers are busy while he watches with rapt attention. My complete fascination with the way he strokes himself, his thumb coating the head with leaking pre-cum.
My mouth waters. My body vibrates. I want him inside me. I want to feel him move within me, our bodies connected, our mouths fused. I want to feel him come and I want to come again too.
I want all of it. Now. I feel greedy for it. Greedy for him.
He must feel it too because he suddenly gets up, his cock hard and curving upward as he makes his way over to the nightstand and pulls out a condom. I watch him put it on as I stroke myself, my skin growing hot and itchy.
“Come here,” he says as he settles on the edge of the mattress, his feet planted on the floor. “Sit on me.”
I do as he asks, scrambling across the bed and adjusting myself, so I’m straddling his lap. His cock nudges against my backside and his face is at breast-level, which is too much of a temptation for him to ignore. He draws my nipple in his mouth and sucks, murmuring around my flesh, “Look in the mirror.”
I glance over and see my reflection. The rosy flush to my skin. My hair wild and Crew’s head at my chest. His lips tugging on my nipple before he lets it go, his tongue darting out for a long, sensual lick.