Page 18 of Wicked Design
“Too much to do first.”
No kidding.She was more than ready and then she wasn’t, having forgotten something. “Hold it.” She clutched his hair. “Wait.”
He lifted his head from her boob. “Why?”
She jabbed her finger at the floor and spoke quietly. “Alice. She’s right downstairs with those late customers. Until they all leave, we wouldn’t want them to hear anything they shouldn’t.”
Van Gogh turned fifty shades of red.
To keep him from retreating into his quiet mode, she kissed him hard to restoke his lust, then leaned across the bed to the nightstand and turned on her CD player. Taylor Swift’s latest hit poured out. There were other selections after it to mask carnal sounds for at least an hour. After that, she’d let him pick the next CD for their wanton encores, just in case Alice remained in her office doing the books or whatever. Once the volume was where Clover wanted it, she gave him her sexiest look and stroked his fly. “What are you waiting for?”
Grinning rakishly, he scooted down and latched onto her nipple, his mouth deliciously hot, tongue sweeping.
Delight pulsed deep within, creaming her pussy. She arched her back, offering herself.
He suckled her nipple gently then hard, both actions spectacular. His breath glided over her, delivering pleasure. His lips caressed. Nothing could top this.
He stroked her belly.
New bliss flowed to her cleft, heated waves that pulsed deep within her sheath, preparing her for his rigid rod. Finished with her nipple, he gorged on the other and stroked her slit.
So many nerve endings fired, she bucked.
He stilled. “You okay?”
“No. You stopped. Why? Don’t. Please.”
He thumbed her clit.
Feelings she couldn’t describe rocketed through her. She shuddered and lifted her hips, giving him greater access.
He had an artist’s hands, his touch precise, firm, assured, miraculous. With more skill than she’d ever owned, he teased her nub, alternating between feathery whisks and unyielding strokes.
Her poor pussy didn’t know what to make of it, her climax rushing close then scurrying away.
She twisted the bedspread. It was either that or bitch at him for not delivering immediate relief, playing with her when she wanted to come. Except she didn’t. She enjoyed how he revved her like an engine then let her idle, encouraging her mounting passion. Already he knew her better than she did herself. She braced for the ride.
He brushed her clit and traced her puffy folds.
Perspiration ran down her throat. Her fists and jaw ached from clenching them so tightly. She hauled in a much-needed breath.
A car horn blared.
She flinched, taut with expectation.
“Still okay?”
“Yeah, don’t stop.” She would have added “ever” but didn’t want to spook him with her overwhelming desire for them to be together. A couple everyone would envy and no one could come between.
He rubbed her where it mattered most, quick, hard, tirelessly.
Her orgasm steamrolled over Clover and hit with hurricane force. She trembled and thrashed, her clit too sensitive to endure his relentless stimulation.
He doubled down, going at her like tomorrow might not come.
She gasped but pressed into him, wanting more even when she didn’t, totally messed up.
The room spun faster than a carnival ride. Giddy, she yielded to his intimate strokes, her legs bowed outward, defenseless against him.
