This blow job was straightforward. She took him all the way in and went to town on his shaft. It didn’t matter that he’d been told to be quiet. Even if he could talk, he had nothing to say. The only sounds he’d have made would have been animalistic. Besides, she didn’t need any direction from him.
She swirled her tongue along his dick and sucked so hard she was blowing his mind too. The friction was astonishing. She was fast, and she was furious, and her lips were locked so tightly around him that she looked exactly as she had when he’d dreamed of her doing this.
Unspeakable pleasure slammed into his body, twisting, rising, coiling through his veins. He was close, so close. She stopped once and he was ready to grab her head and drag her back to him, when he looked down to see her licking his balls. The sight of that made him nearly explode.
She worked her tongue over on him until he could no longer take it. He speared his hands into her hair, whispering harshly, “Get back on me now.”
She raised her eyebrows, the hottest look of satisfaction in her gaze as she wrapped her lips around his dick once more, then grabbed his ass in her hands and rocked him into her mouth.
This was it. This was the motherfucking blow job of his life. He gave it to her good and she took it, obliterating his hold on any thread of sanity with the way her wicked tongue licked him and her lips sucked hard, so hard that the pressure built and built and built, then it simply crashed into him, ripping all the breath from his lungs. White-hot light erupted behind his eyelids.
He gripped her head, curling his fingers around her skull as she dug her sharp nails into his ass. He came hard in her mouth. It was an explosion of pleasure in his body, a sheer blast of intoxication rocketing through his cells.
Blow jobs were certainly known to sink a man’s hold on logic, to lead a man to say things that he wouldn’t ordinarily say. But he’d retained some awareness of his surroundings, and the proximity to other people beyond the dressing room doors. Otherwise, he probably would’ve blurted out something he wasn’t ready to reveal. Not just something sexual or dirty, but something deeper, about how much he had wanted that from her. For years.
As she stood up, he was damn near ready to tell her then he had dreamed of that, and not merely because he wanted her physically, but because he simply wanted her. More than he’d ever expected to.
But her finger was back on his lips again, keeping him quiet. She had no idea he’d been about to tell her how long she’d been the star of his fantasies, and how he hated the idea of ever letting go of their new reality.
* * *
Turned out Harrod’s really did have the dress she wanted. Casey didn’t even need to try it on. She told him she knew Herve Leger fit her like a glove, so she’d grabbed the dress from the dressing room, slapped down her credit card, and snapped it up for the rehearsal dinner.
When they slid back into the car a few minutes later, zipped back up, hair straightened, she spoke first, brandishing her shopping bag. “Look! It was so worth the stop. Thank you for waiting for me.”
Nate put the brakes on a naughty grin, turning his head to stare out the window so his colleagues wouldn’t know that their boss had just gotten blown in Harrod’s.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
London, noon . . .
The top floor of The Luxe in Kensington was stunning, with gold-trimmed walls and a royal blue carpet leading them down the hallway to a penthouse suite. He slid the card through the slot, then held the door open for her. She had stayed at his hotels many times, so she knew better than to let her jaw drop when taking in the richness and sensuality of the rooms, but she had never stayed in the penthouse suite in London before. The suite was palatial, and impeccably appointed with a British flair to the furniture, but still outfitted in the sleek and sexy style The Luxe was known for.
She was about to make a quip about how it’s good to know the CEO, when he dropped their two suitcases on the floor, grabbed her wrists, and backed her up against the wall.
“Look at the room later,” he said in warning, his eyes blazing at her. He had that hot and hungry look that made her feel as if he wanted to eat her up.
“I have my meeting soon with Sofia’s,” she said in protest, but he didn’t seem to care, because he’d nudged her legs apart with a strong thigh, and she was spread-eagle, standing up, pinned to the wall.
“This doesn’t need to take long,” he said, grasping her wrists so tightly his fingers dug into her flesh, delivering a sharp bite of pressure. Of ownership. Of possession.
“But it’s at one p.m. I don’t know how long it will take to get to Hyde Park,” she said breathily, fighting the battle her body was waging, because her body wanted to take him up on his quickie offer, thank you very much.
He dropped one hand from her wrists to run his thumb along her cheek. “Don’t think you can wriggle away from me. After what you did to me at Harrod’s, I’m going to need to bend you over the bed, and show you what happens when you try to take control like that.”
She made a purring sound, momentarily feeding his appetite and their game. “What will you do?”
“Fuck you into submission. Fuck you until you come again and again. Fuck you until you beg for me to do it again.”
“Is this supposed to be a punishment for me taking charge? Because it sounds pretty good,” she said, arching an eyebrow in some sort of challenge.
“Don’t test me, Casey,” he said, and surely, he was playing a role again. He was her lover, calling all the shots, keeping her under his command. Dropping his hold on her wrists, he crushed his lips to hers, kissing her so hard that she was nearly ready to throw in the towel and say screw the meeting.
Especially when he turned on his tender side, and whispered, “Let me take care of you now.”
But she had an appointment and she intended to keep it. Tardiness for the sake of an O might be momentarily rewarding, but it was foolish long-term.
She gently, but firmly pushed him away. “I want to. I truly do. But I need to shower after the flight and change and freshen up. I don’t want to be late,” she said, then ran a finger along his jawline. He hitched in his breath, closing his eyes softly. When he opened them, there was something different in his expression. A vulnerability she hadn’t seen in him often.
“Besides, I need you to know that I didn’t do that to you in the dressing room to get something back,” she added, looking him square in the eyes. “This thing between us doesn’t just have to be about you teaching me. Sometimes I want to lead, and sometimes I want to give. I hope you didn’t mind that I took the lead on that and just kind of pushed you up against the wall at Harrod’s.”