Oh, my, he tasted good. His tongue teased hers, and she met him halfway. He advanced, and she invited, until their kiss deepened into a conflagration of texture and desire. How was it possible that lips could be so soft and wooing, and a tongue could be so hard and suggestive?
Eve took every suggestion he made and turned it into a seduction until they were both gasping for breath.
Still holding her, he backed up until his knees met the mattress. He reached back and stripped the glossy coverlet off it with one hand.
“If we land on that thing, we’ll slide right off it,” he said, pulling her onto the crisp sheets.
“Good plan.” She lay beside him and toed off her sandals. They dropped to the floor with a double clack. He reached down and tossed his shoes toward the closet door.
“Stop right there,” she ordered softly. “I get to do the rest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Very good.” Leaning on one elbow, with the other hand she loosened his tie and whipped it off his neck and over one shoulder. “You sound like a real Southerner.”
“When in Rome. Sure I can’t help you with these buttons?”
“Absolutely not.” She made short work of them, and obligingly, he lifted up so she could remove his shirt. “Mmm.” She ran an admiring hand over his chest, feeling the mat of curly hair, springy with life. “You feel good.”
“You look good. You wore my favorite blouse.”
“A Southern lady always thinks of others.” Her hand strayed down to his belly, slowly mapping the contours of his abs. My, oh my.
“Does a Southern gentleman think about what the lady has under her clothes?”
“I’m sure he does, but he would never, ever mention it.” She debated whether she should explore the growing bulge in his trousers from under his waistband and belt, or through the fine wool.
“Okay.” His voice was husky as he leaned over. “I won’t say a word.”
And he lowered his head to kiss the curve of her breast. His tongue swirled on her skin, tracing the plunge of her cleavage and working up the other side. It felt glorious, as though he were worshipping every inch of exposed skin.
“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” he whispered as he moved red gauze aside to expose the red lace of her bra. He ran his tongue under the scalloped edge.
“Not since yesterday,” she managed.
“What terrible manners. I like your lingerie.”
“I thought you might.”
“Next time, don’t wear any. Remember what I said before.”
Did she ever. “You like to look.”
“That I do. May I?” He pulled the edge of the cup down and exposed her nipple.
“Please, Mitch.” She arched her back and moved as if to force herself into his mouth, but he pulled back.
“Not so fast. I want to look first.”
The man was an expert at torture, but at the same time, it was tremendously exciting to be the focus of that hot gaze. He released the front catch and her bra sprang apart. And then, unexpectedly, he arranged the wrap front of her blouse over her naked breasts and pulled her up until they sat facing each other. The fabric was like a breath of sensation on her flesh, teasing her aching nipples while it hid them from his sight.
“Very nice,” he breathed. “I can see your luscious nipples right through it.”
Or not. Her breasts felt heavy with desire, and she was positive the nipples he loved had never been harder or more ready to be touched.
Slowly, he untied the bow in the front and unwrapped the blouse, pushing it and the bra off her shoulders. She kicked off her skirt, and he backed up against the headboard, where he pulled her into his lap so that she straddled him.
“Oh, my.” She settled onto his erection, shielded by her wet panties and his trousers. Ooh. Very nice. Her breasts jiggled as she adjusted her position.
“Miss Best, I’m overcome by my need to taste your nipples. They are quite simply driving me mad. May I?”
If you don’t, I’ll scream. No, a Southern lady would never say that. “Please do.” She resisted the urge to giggle and instead, rocked a little on his cock.
She settled her arms around his neck as he cupped her breasts in his hands and groaned with pleasure as her flesh filled them. “Lovely,” he breathed. “So round. So firm.” Then he lowered his mouth to her nipple and swirled his tongue around it before he suckled it. Delight darted along her veins as his clever tongue and teeth pleasured her, as he nibbled and sucked and licked his way from one to the other and back again.
“Miss Best,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin, “I would like your permission to lick your nipples every day.” He slid two fingers between their bodies, and she jumped with the sudden, unexpected pleasure as his fingers found their target. “And since we’re on the subject, your clit, as well.”
“Shall we write that into the contract?” she asked, and gasped as he hooked her panties with his thumbs and pulled them off. In return, she undid his belt and fly and yanked his trousers and boxers down, tossing them to the floor.
“If not the contract, then certainly your calendar.” He pulled her into her former position, and she settled onto his naked cock as he gazed up at her. His mouth was swollen and his eyes glazed and dark with passion. He tongued a nipple, drawing it into his mouth and releasing it with a sound like a kiss. “I can’t live a single day without at least looking at your magnificent breasts. Naked, of course. We’ll need to specify that in writing.” His hips rose under her, and she ground herself against him. “And making you come. In your office will be fine. On your desk, preferably, but I’ll make do with the carpet if I have to.”
“On my desk?” she asked weakly.
“Yes indeed. You can lie on it and I’ll sit in your chair and eat you for lunch.”
“Goodness,” she whispered. “Lucky me.”
“Miss Best, there’s a condom in that wallet on the nightstand. Would you be so kind?”
In seconds she had it unwrapped and rolled down on him. He repositioned her above him and she sank onto the tip. A moan escaped her as she stretched to accommodate him.
“Miss Best,” he ground out, cupping her breasts so that his thumbs abraded her nipples, “I can’t wait any longer. Please use me ruthlessly for your pleasure.”
She kissed him deeply and sank onto him, feeling his tongue slip into her mouth and his thick erection slide deep into her body. Feeling his hands on her breasts as she rose and fell in slow motion. Feeling his fingers slide between them to touch her clit and stimulate it, as slippery with her creaminess as it would be if indeed he did have her on her own desk, bringing her to orgasm with his tongue-
She shuddered as the pleasure detonated under his clever fingers, spreading through her body like a flash bomb. Her body contracted around him and he groaned. He gripped her waist and, even as she cried out with the magnitude of it, thrust into her again and again, his hips flexing against the mattress.
He drove into her a final time and gasped, and she clutched him tight with every internal muscle she knew how to use. “Eve!” he cried, and she felt his body shudder as his chest heaved with the effort to breathe.
And then they were spiraling down to the mattress again, twined around each other, holding on as if they were two survivors in a high sea.
“Yes,” Eve said on a long sigh. “This is definitely going on my calendar.”
12
EVE SAT ON a padded stool in the center of the set, facing the live audience. The spotlight felt hot on her scalp, but she was used to it-and besides, she never stayed on the stool very long. The electricity of the unpredictable usually goosed her off it within about five minutes-and goosed the ratings, too.
Atlanta loved these things.
Usually she did, too, but today her concentration was shot. The fact that she’d left Mitch’s hotel room with barely enough time to skate home, change her clothes and get down to the station probably had something to do with it.