Electricity buzzes just beneath my skin, knowing I’m turning him on. Which prompts me to tell him something I’ve never uttered before. “You make me so wet.”
Delight consumes me when he grips my hair and yanks me to his mouth for a searing kiss. After a moment, he breaks away and whispers against my lips, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve jerked off to you since we met? You were the inspiration behind everything I posted to the blog this week and then some.”
I laugh and thread my fingers through his soft, dark hair. “Probably not as many times as I touched myself.”
He stills. “You thought about me when you got off?”
Nodding, I rotate my hips to shift against him. To get some friction. To sate the throb.
A blinding need prompts me to sit up. He looks down and watches me glide over him, his hard cock nestled between my naked thighs, rubbing against the most intimate part of me. I reach down and part myself to get closer, and he growls, “Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
His hands grip my breasts, and I arch my back and pant, “Grab a condom.”
He reaches into my nightstand and rips the foil open. I take it from his hands and scoot down where I grip him.
Holy crap. I had this inside me? My hand can barely wrap around him. Now that I’m not buzzed, I can really appreciate the magnificence before me.
“Tell me. Do you like morning blow jobs?”
A smirk lifts his perfect mouth. “Every man does.”
I want to tell him that no, not every man does, but there’s no reason to bring up my ex. Smiling, I run my lips across his hard length. “So you’d like it if I put you in my mouth?” I ask and then trail my tongue across his swollen crown.
He swallows, his hand finds my cheek, and he nods.
It’s curious because I’ve always felt like doing this was a thankless job. All it ever did was make my jaw hurt and my mind wander to the endless errands I needed to do.
But now, this, being here with Josh, only fills me with the need to make him feel good and to keep him looking at me like this. And making him hot is turning me on like crazy.
The groan he releases when I suck him into my mouth makes me a little frantic. Those hazel eyes watch me, and I’m ablaze under his hungry stare. A big hand tangles in my hair, pulling it tight, and I smile around him. My mouth is full, brimming with him, and after a few minutes of working him over, I want more and unroll the condom over him. Thank God I listened to Kendall and stocked extra-large condoms this week as wishful thinking, because, whoa, Momma, this man needs them.
“Come here.” He motions for me, but I’m surprised when he pulls me to the bed and positions me on my side so I’m facing him. Instinctively I lift my knee to his hip and he hugs me to him, fitting my body against his, my curves snug against his hard planes. It’s an intimate position, which seems crazy because on some level, I realize sex is sex, any way you look at it. But the way he touches me, the way he’s holding me, the way he stayed the night—everything seems to suggest this is more than a fling.
“Babe, we’ll go slow. I know you’re sore.”
Cradling me in his arms, he looks into my eyes as he nudges against my entrance, teasing me, dipping in and out until I’m coming undone with lust and use my ankle to press against his back.
When he sinks into me, he reaches down to my ass, his fingers dropping down to where we meet and feeling me open around him. God, that’s hot.
As if reading my mind, he groans, “I want to worship you everywhere. With my hands and tongue and cock.”
I start panting as he finally pushes in. “Where do I sign up?”
We smile at each other, and I’m dazed and crazed and more than a little out of breath.
I’ve never done it in this position before, and he feels glorious between my thighs, each thrust stroking my clit.
I arch my back to press my hips closer, and his mouth opens around my nipple where he sucks hard and rocks against me, setting me off. Spots dance behind my eyes as I thrash, my orgasm tearing through me like a streak of lightning, but he holds me tight, thickening when he comes, setting off another orgasm.
A scream of pleasure rips from my throat. “Fuck, yes,” I cry, out of my mind as he jolts inside me.
It takes a few minutes to come down from the high. Somehow, I’ve rolled onto my back, and all six feet something of Josh Cartwright is wrapped around me. I thread my fingers through his hair, loving that he’s this affectionate.
“Now that’s a nice way to wake up,” I whisper because my throat is hoarse. From screaming.
He laughs against my chest. “Understatement of the year, baby.”
Hours later, after we’ve showered together and he’s made me breakfast and helped me organize half of my house and he’s kissing me goodbye on my doorstep like I’m his favorite person on the whole planet, a swell of emotion washes over me when I realize I don’t want our weekend to end.
But Josh quickly soothes that melancholy when he leans over me with a smile and asks when he can see me again.
I suggest dinner, maybe Wednesday or Thursday, but the real answer—the one I’m too embarrassed to admit because this is so new—is that’s not soon enough.
On Monday morning, nothing can put me in a bad mood. Not the cab that splashes my new shoes on the way to work. Not the coffee I dribble down my white blouse. Not the evil eye Angela shoots me when I ask Nate for a file.
I work all morning with a feverish energy and focus, only pausing when Josh texts me a sweet message about how he can’t wait to see me.
I’m humming like a bluebird in a Disney movie when Malcolm knocks on my office door around lunch time.
“Malcolm, come in,” I chirp. “Thanks again for inviting me on Saturday night. I had a wonderful time.”
Except for the whole Tiffany debacle and wanting to knee Josh in the balls. But that led to hot make-up sex, so I can’t complain. I mean, I guess that was make-up sex even though we weren’t together. Not really. But I guess we are now, right?
“Gwen was delighted to see you. I’m sorry I made you wait so long to attend. I realize I can be a bastard like that. My wife laid into me this weekend for not inviting you last year.”
I wave him off, my happy-meter broken somewhere in the realm of Shake Your Ass, You Lucky Bitch, and Unicorns Are Farting Rainbows. “No worries, boss.”
I’m in too good a mood to care about anything at this point. My inner Madonna is still singing Dress You Up to Josh. Life is good. Life is really freaking good.
Malcolm chuckles and scratches his chin. “She wants to have you and Nathan over for brunch next weekend.” Like a record scratch, the music in my head stops. Wait… What did he say? “You guys make a cute couple. I didn’t realize you were dating.”
My mouth opens. “What? We’re not—”
“He’s a good catch, kiddo. Your dad will love Nate.”