Playboy Prince

She shakes her head. Returns the gesture.

"Bossy."

"No."

"Never?" I raise a brow.

"Sometimes." She undoes the sash of her robe.

"This time?"

She shakes her head.

"Next time?"

"Maybe. Or maybe next time I'll call you Mr. Pierce and find out what happens."

Fuck me.

"Are you going to stand there and stare?"

"Fuck yes."

She pushes the sides apart. "You could come closer."

"I'm enjoying the show."

"In that case—" she takes a step toward me. Then another. Another.

I meet her halfway.

Her hand curls around my neck. She looks up at me with need, affection, desire.

My heart melts.

My body roars.

My head—there's no blood left in my fucking brain. My head isn't in the picture.

I wrap my arms around her, pull her body into mine, kiss her hard.

Her lips part. My tongue slips into her mouth. Dances with hers.

There's no other way to explain it.

I lead her to the counter. Pin her to the hard surface.

She groans as my hard-on brushes her stomach.

I bring one hand to her chest. Toy with her as I kiss her. Slow circles around her nipple until she's so on edge she has to pull back to groan.

"Liam." Her nails sink into my neck.

"Say it again."

"Liam."

It's music. The only thing better is her groan.

"You need to fuck me now."

"Need a condom."

"Did you mean it? What you said about not being with anyone else?"

"Baby, I'm not coherent enough to follow you."

"Since Toronto." She looks up at me. "Have you really not been with anyone else?"

"Yeah."

"For five months?"

"Yeah."

"The story about the girl in the closet, that happened?"

"Might have."

"When?"

"At that gala for STEM in school."

"The blonde with the fake tits?"

"Baby, you want to talk about some other woman's tits?"

"They were huge."

"So?"

"Did she have them out?" She steps back. Pushes the sides of her robe apart. "Like this. Unbuttoned?"

Fuck.

"Or was she naked?"

"Bri—"

"You've thought of me?"

"Of course."

"How does it go?" She places her hand on my chest. "Do I walk into your office in my clothes. Drop to my knees behind your desk?"

"Sometimes."

"Do I take anything off?"

I nod.

She drags her hand down my torso. "What?"

"Depends what you're wearing that day."

"Last time?"

"Yesterday?"

She smiles with victory.

But I can't say I feel defeated.

"Yesterday."

"You came in. Unbuttoned your shirt to show me your tits. Like it was our secret."

"No bra?"

"No bra."

"I was wearing one."

"I wasn't worried about the logic."

Her fingers dip below my belly button. "Maybe I took it off in the bathroom."

"Bri—"

"What then?" She wraps her hand around my cock.

My eyes flutter closed. Her hand feels good. Too good. "I need to fuck you."

"Then order me." She runs her thumb over my tip. "What then?"

"You saw I was hard. Came behind my desk. Sucked me off with the blinds down. Even though someone might catch us."

"I like that." She pumps me. "Maybe later."

"You are bossy."

"Sometimes." She's daring me.

I think. It's hard to hold on to conscious thought.

The stroke of her hand feels too fucking good.

She pumps me again.

Again.

Fuck. I'm going to come if she keeps this up.

I can't exactly complain, but I want to come with her.

"Baby, I need to fuck you—"

"Like this. This time." She lowers herself slowly. Presses her lips to my stomach. The spot just below my belly button.

Then lower.

Lower.

Her lips brush my cock. Softly. Then harder.

She takes me into her mouth.

I bring my hand to the back of her head.

She wraps her arm around me. Digs her fingers into the flesh of my ass, using the grip for leverage as she takes me deeper.

She does it slowly.

So fucking slowly. Like she's savoring every inch.

My free hand goes to her shoulder. Her chest.

I cup her breast, running my thumb over her nipple.

She groans against my cock.

She toys with me. Tests soft swirls of her tongue. Hard strokes. Fast flicks. Slow ones.

When she finds it, she teases me again and again.

I toy with her as she toys with me.

It's a perfect circle of torture. Well, almost. As soon as I make her come.

Then she takes me again, and I don't give a fuck about anything but her soft, wet mouth, her sweet lips, her perfect tits.

Briar West on her knees in my fucking kitchen.

Demanding to suck me off.

I've died and gone to heaven.

I really have.

I take in the perfect sight of her for a moment, then I close my eyes, press my palm against the back of her head, guide her deeper.

Deeper.

So deep she almost gags.

But she takes it.

Then she pulls back and she does it again.

She finds that rhythm. Works me again and again. With soft, sweet perfection.

I toy with her, rubbing her harder and harder, until she's groaning against me.

The perfect vibration pushes me over the edge.

"Fuck." I tug at her hair, holding her head in place as I rock through my orgasm.

The world goes white.

An entire universe of bliss.

Every part of me feels awake and alive.

And every part wants the same thing—her.

I groan her name as I come.

She waits until I've spilled every drop, then she pulls back, swallows hard, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.