His eyes are on my mouth, making it water. “I told you, there’s no blood relation between us. We’re no more related than step siblings, and apparently that’s a thing nowadays.”
“Is it? I hadn’t heard.”
Without even looking around the room, he says, “It’s too crowded. Come to my condo, and we can discuss a merger.”
It’s a double-entendre, and I’m breathing so hard, I can’t say no. I need to say no to him. “You’re offering me a job?”
“If you’re interested in seeing more of me.”
“I... I don’t—”
“Just say yes.”
Chapter 4: Professionals
Marcus
Cinnamon and vodka and her.
Amy Knight is the most delicious combination of my favorite flavors. I don’t even remember the short drive to my condo. We didn’t even make it up the stairs before I pulled her to me, holding her hips and claiming that mouth. She tried to resist, but it was a half-hearted fight.
“I thought this was business.” She pulled back, but her luscious breasts were heaving.
“A little business. A little pleasure.” Waiting for her response, I’d studied her hazel eyes, more green than brown, dark with desire. I’d let her go if she said the word, as much as it would kill me.
A full, pink lip caught between her teeth, and just like that, slim hands were on my neck, pulling me to her. A little moan as I carried her up the stairs doing my best not to lose contact.
Turning to unlock the door, I held her tight against me with an arm around her waist. She rose up to feather kisses at my collar as her fingers began unfastening the buttons on my shirt. I almost dropped the keys.
“Fucking lock,” I hissed at last getting it open before we stumbled inside, bodies fused together.
Everything fell to the floor where we stood. The door closed, my hands grabbed the waist of her jeans, loosening the belt and shoving down her zipper. My shirt was open, and her hands slid across my skin, pushing it off my shoulders and down.
“Shirt. Off,” I said, lifting the hem of her black tee, and she reached around her neck to pull the ribbon-tie of her necklace before whipping the silky fabric over her head and dropping everything in a pile at her feet.
Now we’re on my bed. I’m sitting and she’s straddling my lap in nothing more than a black lace bra and matching thong. The ends of her blonde pony tail dance along her slim shoulders, teasing her collarbones. Her eyes are on me, looking at my chest, lightly touching the lines of my torso. A condom waits beside me.
“God, you’re beautiful.” I only take a moment to memorize the sight of her, gorgeous in lacy black lingerie, before I reach around her back to unfasten her bra.
The straps drop down her arms, and I pull a tight nipple into my mouth. Her skin smells like warm fires and perfume, and I lift her, turning us so her back is on the bed.
“Marcus,” she gasps as I make my way down the center of her stomach.
“You robbed me.” I’m at the top of her thong, and I lightly run my tongue along the edge of the fabric. “I wanted you for breakfast.”
She lets out a little cry, and one hand goes to her face while the other threads in my hair. Hooking my thumb in the side of her panties, I pull it away to reveal her bare pussy before sinking my tongue between her folds.
“Oh, god!” She gasps as her hips arch toward me. I know she wants more, and I plan to give it to her.
Pulling back a moment, I kiss the crease
in her thigh, letting her simmer in delicious agony for a moment.
“Run out on me?” I tease, lightly running my tongue along the skin above her slit. “Never again.” I briefly kiss her swollen lower lips, sinking my tongue inside to give that little nub a sweep before pulling up again.
She exhales a cry, and I know she’s on the edge. “Say it,” I order, waiting, two fingers at her slippery entrance.
“Marcus...” Another gasp, and my cock is aching. I want to be inside her, but I’m not letting her get away with running.