God, I wanted him to keep talking. I could feel the orgasm building deep within me, coiling my muscles, buzzing through my blood, and I wanted—no, needed—more. All of it. I needed the release.
“Think of it,” West said, almost as breathless as I was. “Think about how fucking good it feels when I’m inside you. When your greedy little cunt is hugging my cock. When you’re scratching up my back and screaming my name. Think about how goddamn good it feels to have my cock buried inside you and pounding into you.”
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
“Think about how fucking amazing it feels when your tight pussy comes all over my dick, Mia. When you collapse and I’m still inside you. Think about it.”
“I—oh god, West,” I moaned. Why is this so freakin’ hot? Am I really about to come on the phone with him?
“Yes,” he half hissed, half growled. “Fuck yes, Mia. Think about it. Think about how you felt when I came inside you.”
I did.
I thought about it.
And I came, my entire body trembling. I almost dropped the phone, but my clenching muscles kept it pinned to my ear as West’s deep groan of his own release vibrated down the line. I was breathing crazily, thanks to the most intense orgasm I’d ever had courtesy of myself.
I couldn’t believe I’d just done that.
A few minutes of silence passed between us. I was thankful for it. I was able to catch my breath and calm my heart in that quiet time, and I assumed he was doing the same.
“What time do you get back here tomorrow?” West finally asked.
“Around half past twelve...I think. It’s definitely around noon.” I sat up in bed, pulled a handful of tissues from the box on my nightstand, and awkwardly wiped my fingers. It’d do until I could shower in a few minutes.
“You have plans after?”
“No. None. I was going to work.”
I swore I could hear his smirk.
Then he said, “I’ll be waiting outside your apartment.”
West pulled out of me and collapsed onto my bed next to me.
He had been waiting just like he’d said he’d be, and the moment we’d gotten into my apartment, he’d thrown my bags to the side and we’d magically found our way to the bedroom, our lips locked.
Any hesitance about a sexual relationship with him had disappeared.
Unfortunately for me, the feelings that had replaced it would be a problem.
They weren’t crazy, but when I looked over at the man lying next to me—sweat beading on his forehead, a tiny smile curving his lush lips—I knew that maybe there was...more. I couldn’t focus on it though. I couldn’t give it brain time or more would become more, and there were way too many issues between us to think about that.
Like the fact that he was my client, I lived in San Diego, and who was Charlotte?
I’d lied when I’d said that I didn’t want to know. I wanted to know. It was clawing away at my female curiosity. Who was she, and why was she so important she needed to be brought up? It was obviously a huge part of his life he didn’t want to acknowledge, but Beck had made him.
And me. He’d made me too, the moment he’d known I’d hear the conversation.
West rolled onto his side and hit me with his gorgeous, bright-blue eyes. They searched my face, flitting this way and that, and slowly, he smiled.
“Wanna get lunch?” he asked.
I turned my head toward him, tugging the sheets up over myself, and raised my eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m hungry.” He flicked some hair out of my eye. “And then you can work.”
“Because that plan is working so well already.”
He laughed and threw himself on top of me. I faked an oomph and stared up at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. His grin was infectious, wide and bright, as he spoke.
“I promise. Food then work. Beck will be at the club to make sure it actually happens.”
“What is he? Your own personal cockblock?”
“My voice of reason.” He grinned even wider and touched his nose to mine. “Thank god I can get rid of him sometimes and do crazy shit like this.”
“Having sex with me is crazy shit?”
He rolled us both over so he was on his back and I was on top of him, and I squealed.
“Yeah,” he said, “having sex with you is crazy shit. Inviting you for lunch is even crazier. As a rule, I don’t mix business and pleasure, angel, but you make me want to sin.”
I touched my forehead against his. “So sin.”
He ran one hand up my back and fisted my hair. “I already am. Every fucking time I look in your eyes.” He pushed my face down to his and kissed me hard. “Come on. Let’s clean up, get dressed, and get food.”
So we did. I locked the bathroom door while I showered so he couldn’t get in, much to his annoyance. He, however, left it open, almost expectantly.