Off Limits

‘For me it was,’ Clint backpedals, his smile dismissive.

‘Sorry to hear that,’ Jack says, pressing his fingers in a little deeper, shooting arrows of desire through my flesh. ‘I need Gemma for a conference call I’m expecting. Is there somewhere private we can go?’

My heart is racing, beating so hard I’m surprised it can stay lodged in my chest.

‘Yeah, of course—my office.’ Clint nods, turning on his heel and moving through the lounge area.

Jack runs his hand higher up my back and then drops it to his side as he moves to follow Clint through the luxurious apartment. Three doors down a long, well-lit corridor, Clint pauses, his smile professional. It’s clear he has no clue how Jack’s been touching me, nor what Jack and I want.

‘Make yourselves at home,’ he invites. ‘Need water? Coffee? Anything?’

Jack shakes his head and Clint leaves, pulling the door shut behind him. The office is large, and offers another view of the harbour. There’s a desk in the middle, a sofa pushed hard to the wall and a bookshelf that holds a coffee machine and a bar fridge.

My inspection is cut short by Jack.

His lips find mine and his arms curl around my back, lifting me up and bringing me closer to him.

‘What are you doing to me?’ he groans into my mouth, the words both a plea and a hope.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I manage to say. But his tongue is fighting mine and no further conversation is possible.

His hands find the hem of my dress, lifting it just enough for Jack to be able to cup my bare arse. He groans as his fingers connect with naked skin and he pushes his arousal towards me, his cock hard and firm. My body is desperate to feel more of him. But he grinds against me and I grip his shoulders, my body weakening at this contact that is so good I can barely think straight.

He lifts one hand to my hair. It’s loose around my face and he tangles his fingers in its ends then pulls up from my scalp, his fingers holding me against his mouth. His other hand slips between my legs and finds my warm heat. He runs a finger along my seam and I whimper into his mouth, so wet and hot for him.

He pushes into me—just a finger, and just enough to make my body throb. I need something. Space. Breath. But his tongue lashes my mouth as his finger teases my insides, and pleasure is a spiral I cannot escape, cannot control. It spins in my gut, my chest, my heart, my blood.

I whimper again—a tiny noise locked in the back of my throat—and his fingers tighten in my hair. I am trapped by him, by this, our need for each other. His finger swirls, finding my most sensitive cluster of nerves, and I am shaking all over, from head to toe, my body his to please and command.

‘Come for me,’ he instructs into my mouth, as though he has heard my thoughts and knows I will do anything he asks of me.

My knees can barely hold me. Without Jack’s support I would be a puddle of bones and haute couture on the elegant carpeted floor of Clint Sheridan’s office.

Jack kisses me in a rhythm matched by his finger’s invasion and I am falling apart in his arms, with no chance of reprieve or pause. No break in the assault of pleasure he is inflicting on me. He kisses me as I moan, my breath snatched, my blood fevered. And even as my muscles clamp around him, squeezing the pleasure from my body, his finger continues to tease me, so that the pleasure and awareness is almost unbearable.

The first orgasm is crashing around me even as a second, bigger one builds, and I grip his lapels, holding him as my world shatters in a mind-blowing moment of sexual awakening. I am fevered and limp, broken and whole.

But he’s not done with me. Even as wave after wave of pleasure crashes across my brow his hands reach down, finding his zip and freeing his arousal. I know I have only seconds to regain my senses. To exercise my control in this situation that is eating me alive.

‘No,’ I say, and the word is thick with desire, fevered by need.

He stops, his eyes locked to mine, anguish clear in his expression. But he stops. Waits.

‘Sit down,’ I say, nodding towards the sofa.

Something like relief spreads over his face as he nods and moves to the sofa.

‘Do you have a...’

He’s reaching for his wallet before I can finish, fishing out a foil square. I groan as I slide it down his cock and then I am on top of him, straddling him, taking his length deep inside me, revelling in his possession and in his look of wonderment. Seeing that he is as lost to this pleasure as I am.

I move up and down his length, rocking on my haunches. His fingers dig into my sides, moving with me, but I am in control. When I feel him pump, so close to coming, I sit higher, so that only his tip is inside me, and he groans, tilting his head back as waves of pleasure engulf his being. I laugh softly, lowering myself back onto him and leaning forward, kissing his neck, his throat, tasting the desire that has overheated us both.

He holds my hips, keeping me low against him, and thrusts into me. My body is already on fire. It takes nothing for further flames to take hold, spreading like wildfire through my blood. My cry is muffled by his kiss, and he kisses me as together we explode.

Lightning flashes in the sky—closer now—but I barely notice. Even as rain begins to lash the windows I am aware only of this. Our own little storm, raging through our souls.

Chapter Ten