They were wise words, but my beloved boyfriend seemed to have gotten a second wind. His eyes twinkled with the kind of unbridled charisma that used to send me running for the hills, back when I was his publicist, the kind that would have had me preemptively calling The Post and The Times, bracing in advance for whatever mayhem and adventure was soon to follow.
“I’ll tell you what...” As he spoke, he picked me up and carried me over to the windowsill and set me down on the high ledge. “Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the view. Keep an eye out for renegade golf carts. Meanwhile, I’ll just busy myself down here.”
Before I could stop him, he sank to his knees and began running his fingers all the way up my thighs as his head disappeared beneath my dress.
“Nick!” I whispered, pressing my shoulder blades against the cool pane of glass. “What the hell are you doing?! We have to leave in, like, two minutes.”
“I only need one,” he mumbled, and while I couldn’t see his face, I could practically hear the smirk.
In the next second, my underwear was gone. A second later, a rush of warmth blossomed through me as his tongue snaked between my thighs.
If I was going to make a confession, I would have had to say I knew we should stop. Logistically, it was a terrible idea, but with Nick Hunter’s head between my legs, logistics had no place. It was truly impossible to stop him.
A breathless gasp ripped through me, and the next thing I knew, I was reaching for the top of his head, pressing him tighter against me through the fabric of my dress. He responded instantly, picking up speed as his tongue whirled faster and faster, just biting, sucking, kissing, and licking to his heart’s content. My head fell back against the cold window, and it wasn’t long before every logistical thought sailed right out the window.
I didn’t care about being late to dinner, if we even went at all. All I cared about was the dinner he was making out of me. I wanted him to stay on his knees forever, to just keep doing exactly what he was doing, panting and caressing me until I fell to pieces in his hands and lips.
There was a knock on the door, but I ignored it, and so did Nick. Only when another, more urgent knock came did I force in enough air to let myself speak.
“Just...just a minute!”
“Abigail?”
“Shit! Harold!” I whispered.
“Abigail, are you and Nick almost ready? I do hope so.” He paused for a second, and I imagined him pressing his ear against the door. “If you like, I can walk you both down.”
A deep chuckle came from somewhere beneath my dress.
I gasped again as the warmth of his laughing breath grazed my most tender parts. It was a struggle to steady my voice when I called back, “Yeah, we’re uh... We’re almost ready.” A stinging bite brought tears to my eyes. “And no, Harold, we don’t need an escort. Thanks though.”
He muttered something inaudible and stomped away.
Nick finally released my thighs and slowly ambled to his feet. His handsome face was flushed almost as much as mine, and an arrogant sort of pride animated all his features.
I looked at him for a moment, and he looked back at me. Then, maintaining direct eye contact the whole time, he slowly unzipped his pants.
At first, I didn’t know what he wanted me to do. I watched with wide eyes as he slid his pants down past his hips, then all the way to his ankles. My breath caught in my throat at the sheer size of what was in front of me, and in an instant, I scooted off the windowsill and sank to my knees.
Nick caught me before I hit the floor and pulled me gently back up to my feet. “What are you doing?” he asked softly. “Don’t wrinkle your dress.”
I blushed to the roots of my hair, staring hesitantly at his face before dropping my eyes hastily to the carpet. “I thought... Don’t you want me to, uh...return the favor?”
He laughed quietly, tilting my chin up so he could look me in the eyes. “Abby, I’ll never expect that, at least not this way, with some kind of formal invitation. It’s not my style to take off my pants and just stand there waiting.” He laughed again, shaking his head at the absurdity of it, but then his face abruptly took on a serious expression. “But I do want to fuck you...hard.”
What!? How the hell can he just say those kinds of things? Who the hell talks like that?
His eyes twinkled at the look of astonishment that floated across my face. “With your permission, of course, Mrs. Hunter,” he teased.
It was the playful little afterthought that broke me out of my trance. My face melted into a huge smile before I cocked my hips and tilted my head coyly to the side. “And how would you like me?”
“Trick question,” he murmured as he spun me gently around. “I am not sure what you want to hear. I suppose you need to be in the precise position that will not allow for the knocking loose of one precious bobby pin.”
It was suddenly quite obvious that he was far better at the games than I was. The second he turned me around, pressing me up against the glass, I forgot we were even playing, so I answered with complete honesty, “I want you to fuck me...hard.”
Nick Hunter was never one to be told twice.
He was inside me the next moment, clamping a hand over my mouth as my lips fell open while I let out a low-pitched moan to welcome him. I really didn’t think my body could withstand it, didn’t think I could survive both the pleasure and pain of such an assault. When Nick spread my legs wider, kicking apart my ankles for a deeper angle.