He suppressed a laugh at his idiocy. He really was losing it.
He wasn’t young anymore. A man in his position in Hollywood learned quickly enough that casual sex often didn’t end up being as casual or as sexy as a novice might expect. He’d become extremely particular about whom he associated with in the past several years. So particular, in fact, that his sister, Katie, had taken to calling him jaded. Maybe Katie was right, because in the past few months he’d been choosy to the point of abstinence.
Maybe that was what made this unexpected experience feel so sharp, so imperative.
Seth could come in at any moment. Dozens of people moved and talked and shouted just feet away from the still room where he stood and Joy sat, etching her magic on his flesh. More important, Everett didn’t pull stupid, crazy stunts. Not anymore, at least.
But a moment later, when her laughter had morphed into that still, sublime expression, he would have dared much, much worse than to explore the promise of her inner fires.
Then she’d spoken . . . and he’d almost had a heart attack at age thirty-six.
“Do you mind?” she’d asked.
He minded, all right. If he didn’t get the opportunity to feel her touch where it counted, he was going to boil and cook
in his own sweat.
It had felt like he was balancing on a narrow, straining wire the entire time Joy had sat before him and caressed him with her marker and tickled him deliciously with her paintbrush. When she so carefully reached into the briefs and extricated his cock, he fell right off that thin line of enforced rationality straight into a vat of need.
His cock felt like it was steaming when she wrapped her cool fingers around it. The image of her removing his length from the stupid seaweed pants was so exciting, he nearly came then and there. Her tongue was surprisingly red when she delicately licked him. Energy arced between them at the direct contact, their naked flesh becoming a conduit. She dragged the tip of it from head to pulsing root. Ripples of pleasure shot up his spine.
He bit his tongue hard enough to make him wince in pain. He’d be damned if he was going to ruin the richest erotic experience he’d had in . . . he couldn’t remember how long, by exploding before he truly got to enjoy it.
The metallic flavor of blood spread in his mouth before he allowed himself to pry open his eyes. He groaned upon seeing her spreading her lips wide and angling his cock into her warm, wet mouth.
Christ, his cock was iron hard, so how was it that he felt like he was melting on her tongue?
She might look fresh as a wild rose, but she knew how to suck. She pulled at him. He winced in pleasure as he slid across her tongue, going deeper into the humid, hot glory of her. How could he have thought she was so contained, so cool?
She was a raging fever on the inside.
His hand moved, seemingly of its own accord. He cradled the side of her head. He withdrew and flexed forward again, suppressing a groan.
“God that’s good,” he mumbled.
She ducked her head, sucking and sliding his cock between tightly pursed lips, taking him on a thrill ride of a lifetime. With every pass, she took him deeper. Her hunger was a palpable thing, the strength of it shocking him, a force that drove her farther and farther down onto the shaft of his cock. He watched her with a tight, feral stare, taking in every nuance of her—the way his erection strained her lips wide and stained them a dark, vivid pink as she pumped at his cock with a furious focus.
The sight of her consuming him like she thought it was her last meal was so powerful, he shut his eyelids to protect himself. Sensation still bombarded him; the feeling of her firm, sweet suck; the slippery sounds of his cock moving so forcefully in wet flesh reaching his ears even through the hum of the air conditioner. She continued to pulse him in and out, her unceasing suction assuring him he wasn’t going to continue this little side trip into fantasyland for very long.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, unable to hold back any longer from the singular power of the experience and his own demanding nature.
He tightened his hold on the back of her head, stabilizing her, and began to thrust between her lips, his ass flexing tight. It was like plunging straight into the essence of pleasure. It surged through him in bursts, spiking through his flesh.
Ah, Jesus. This is what he’d stooped to—face-fucking Snow White while only a few feet and very thin walls separated him from dozens of coworkers.
His face collapsed in regret when he sensed her recoil slightly at his demanding possession, but then she was back—fiercer than before, sucking him until his eyes crossed.
He felt his balls pinch in delicious pain when the muscles of her throat closed around the tip of his cock. If he hadn’t been holding it in, his shout of pleasure would have made him hoarse. As it was, it scalded his throat as he strangled it.
Pleasure ripped through him. He held her head steady as he erupted, not because of his dominant nature, but because his body had been paralyzed in a rictus of sensation. As the second wave rocked him, he recognized the discomfort he caused her. He released her with a slight jerk, rocking them both. She made a sound in her throat—God, he hoped it wasn’t of dismay—but then his body tightened again in release. He came on her tongue, and his worries were buried by flooding pleasure.
He groaned gutturally, feeling like he was being emptied and filled all at once.
* * *
The need for a long, full breath overcame her at last. She slid his softening—but still formidable—penis out of her mouth. The slick, fleshy cockhead pressed against her cheek as she gasped for air, filling her lungs. His hold on her gentled. He stroked her hair as she desperately tried to catch her breath.
It was as if she’d just been caught up in the furious twist of a cyclone, only to be suddenly tossed out again into a motionless, hard world. Her mind struggled to make sense of what had just occurred. Fragments of vision and sensation bombarded her awareness.