We’re no more than a foot inside with the door locked and our bodies flanked when he wraps his arms around me and carries me to the bedroom.
Thinking is not fathomable when he yanks my skirt up to my waist without giving any thought to the tight fit of it and pushes me back on the bed.
“Spread your legs. I’ve been thinking about tasting you for days.”
Before I can say a word, his face is between my thighs. His lips close around my clit through my panties and he sucks there. The wet heat, the scratch of the lace, the sensation of his fingers hooking the fabric aside and pushing into me without any pretext has me keening in an instant.
“Zane.” It’s a breathless word on repeat on my lips as he leans back and pulls my panties down my legs. He props my heels on his shoulders and then grants me a salacious grin before burying his face back between my thighs. He makes a show of breathing in, of smelling me, and then groaning seconds before his tongue parts me and delves into my most intimate of places.
It’s sensation overload. Heat and warmth and pressure and bliss as his tongue dips into me, moves in a circle, and then licks its way from one end of my sex to the other. His hand grips my inner thigh, slowly moves up my torso and cups my breast. His tongue moves up to flick over my clit, taunting me with ecstasy. The fingers on his free hand slide into me and begin to worship my every nerve within.
My body is overwhelmed with sensations. With the push and the pull of desire warring within me to come so I can enjoy the pleasure and to hold off the orgasm so it can grow to be even stronger.
My hands grip his hair. My hips buck up. My legs tense. All three attempt to help and hinder and encourage and deter.
An orgasm means this pleasure is over.
An orgasm means that slow burn building inside of me is going to explode into an inferno of desire.
“Zane,” I moan as he doubles down on his assault. Fingers and flicking and tongue and suction.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs as he works fervently to push me over the edge.
“God, right there.” My eyes close. My hands flex into the sheet now. My heels dig into his shoulders as the thunderous echoes of my climax begin to rip through me.
Sensation after sensation follows. Heat and chills and trembling and tension. Behind my eyelids turn white as my head grows dizzy and my body begins to fall into that liquid orgasmic haze.
And just when I think my body has finished pulsing and is riding that high, Zane pushes me further into the clouds. He runs his tongue ever so softly over my swollen lips, uses the tip of it to circle my entrance—his groan is enough to make me come again—and then presses a kiss to my clit before kissing his way up my body.
He settles over me on his elbows, his eyes dark and eyelids heavy with desire. “God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs before leaning down and kissing me tenderly on the mouth.
“I’m not complaining about your skills, that’s for sure,” I say with a chuckle against his lips.
“Good thing because I’m trying to be patient and let you have a second . . . but if I don’t get to fuck your pussy soon, I’m going to be in some serious pain.”
I pull him down and kiss him. “By all means, I think I’ve tortured you enough over the past two days”—I spread my legs back open and taunt him with a coy smile—“will this do?”
“It’ll more than do,” he laughs as we start the dance once again.
And just as he slips into me with a thin veil of protection, we slip into whatever this is between us.
Sex without strings.
Privileges with the boss.
Friends with benefits.
Getting the perks out of playing the part.
Any way you want to define it is fine by me . . . except it is not a relationship.
Those I’m horrible at.
Those only lead to pain.
Those are something that I know Zane never agrees to.
“ROBERT! WHAT CAN I DO for you?”
“Just checking to see how things are going. You’re in Nashville today, right?”
“Yes.” Another damn day on the bus. Another day closer to getting back to my life. Another day of getting to sleep with Harlow. “You got the info I emailed over? The new stats and subscription increases.”
“They’re looking great. Are you pleased with them?” He asks and I can hear a bustle in the background, as if he’s seated at a restaurant.
“I am. They could always be better, but that’s just me being a perfectionist.”
“Agreed. I’m researching a few ideas to see what else we can do to have the subscription base at max capacity before the hard launch.”
“I look forward to hearing them.” My voice falls off when Harlow walks down the length of the coach. Her nipples are hard beneath her tank top and her hair’s a mess. The sight of her pulls at everything in me to go feel how warm her body is fresh from the sheets.
“But everything else is good otherwise?” Robert asks.
“Yeah. Sure.” Silence fills the line and I’m hit with a pang of dread.
“And things with Harlow are well?”
Shit. Here we go again with the marriage counselor stuff. I can already feel it.