Page 6 of Not Safe for Work
And suddenly she was whispering: “The stockings. I hate wearing these silk stockings.”
In answer, he curled his fingers around the hem of her skirt.
He lifted it to reveal the lacy tops that clung so tenderly to her thighs.
“Ah, yes, these ones here,” he said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. There was nothing strange about a man gazing at the underwear of a woman he had only spent a couple of days with. Nor did it matter when he started to ease them down.
Slow at first, like he had with the shoes, but then he moved faster. He was more feverish, she thought, and couldn’t hold back a moan.
“Does it feel that good to do this, Ms. Elliot?”
“Better than I ever imagined it could.”
“Well, that’s the thing about breaking the rules,” he said, as he let the stocking he’d just removed run through his fingers. “You think it’s going to be the very worst thing in the world . . . and instead it makes you so wet you soak through your panties.”
She glanced down, her cheeks flaming.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she blurted.
But he seemed to know she didn’t mean it.
“I could show you if you like,” he said.
“Show me how? What do you mean?”
“Part your legs for me.”
She had no idea what he had in mind. But it didn’t seem to matter. He said the words and she was suddenly leaning back against his desk. She was spreading her thighs for him, even though she rarely spread her thighs for anyone. There were men she’d dated for weeks who didn’t get as far as Abel had in days.
Yet somehow she couldn’t make herself stop.
And she definitely couldn’t stop him.
He ran the back of his hand over the inside of her thigh and her head went back. A low moan pushed past her lips—and then another when he got to his destination. He just traced one light finger over the taut material that covered her pussy, barely making contact.
But barely was enough.
It made her throb there, hotly.
Her little bud seemed to swell, as if seeking his touch.
Most delicious of all, though: he knew it.
“Ah, yes, yes, I feel it, I feel your sweet clit pushing against my fingertips. So ready to be touched and stroked—god, I’ve never known anyone this eager for it. This greedy. Here, look, see how greedy you are,” he said, then slipped one finger around the elastic of her panties.
Only briefly, but briefly was enough to leave her gasping.
And to leave that finger glistening from tip to knuckle.
He held it up for her when he was done. He let her see her own excitement, as clear as day. Then just when she thought she couldn’t take a second more of this—that her body was as aroused as it could be, without going over—he put his finger to his lips and slid it in. He sucked the taste of her from his skin with so much gorgeous enthusiasm it left her feverish.
All she wanted to do after that was pull him to her and kiss that taste on him and rub her over-heated body against his.
But she didn’t have to. He was there before she could reach for him, mouth covering hers in the kind of kiss she’d always dreamed of getting. Lips searching hers, soft but insistent at the same time, his tongue teasing rather than forcing in, everything so hot and hungry.
And then there was the hand between her legs, pushing beneath her underwear. He had teased before, barely touched. But this time he found her clit with two firm fingers, and made a slow, deliberate circle around her swollen bud, in a way that made her whole body clench. Then he pressed right on it, working until she was almost beside herself. She said his name against his lips, in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. And when he kissed over her throat, she grabbed a fistful of his gorgeous hair without even thinking twice about it.
And the moment he slid those fingers down . . .
