“I can understand that.” I pull my skirt over my hips and shake off his comment. “All I care about is spending more time with you and that mouth of yours. Where did you learn some of those moves? And don’t say from a magazine.”
I am joking, and he knows it.
“You’re such a brat,” he says, laughing. “And, to answer your question, I did not learn that from a magazine. I’m not that kind of nerd. I never had problems with women.”
Tilting my head to the side, my eyes travel up his muscular body with a smirk already on my lips. “I can see that. But next time, I’d like to see you in less clothing.”
He stands up and holds out his hand for me to take, my attention shifting to the length in his pants.
“I think you need to get rid of that before you go see your boss,” I say, trying not to laugh.
Jamie glances down at his erection as if he wished it would disappear.
I peek up at him. “I can help you out…if you want.”
He lets out a sigh of relief, quickly turning his head to the door.
“No one is going to come in here, right?” I ask, my voice a whisper. He tilts his head up to the ceiling and lets out a puff of air. And he doesn’t answer me when I reach for the button on his black slacks, pop it open, and pull down the zipper. “It’s your turn.”
Once his eyes meet mine, they tell me everything I need to know. Keep going. Don’t stop.
Chapter 9
Jameson
Cupping the back of Regan’s head, I try not to pull her hair. With her mouth full of my cock, she peeks up at me with those wide, blue eyes. Her luscious lips look as good as they feel wrapped around me. The warmth of her mouth and whatever she keeps doing with her tongue feels so fucking good I doubt I will last long after being tortured by her delicious pussy.
Continuing the same motions, she opens her mouth wider, taking more of me as she strokes my length, not stopping until I can feel the back of her throat.
“Damn, Foxy,” I say, threading my fingers through her hair. “I know you didn’t learn this from a magazine.” I snicker at my comment, but it doesn’t take me out of the zone.
Did I learn to eat pussy from a magazine? What kind of question was that?
I’ve met my match with Regan. She’s the kind of weird and interesting that I need in my life. And low maintenance. It’s not often I find women like Regan who are so down-to-earth and understanding. She gets me in ways I hadn’t thought possible.
Closing my eyes for a second, I tighten my grip, about to find my release. Words that make any sense fail me. A series of grunts escape my lips, nothing more than incoherent ramblings. My body trembles, causing me to tug at her hair to get a better grip as I come in her mouth.
Loosening the hold I had on Regan, she sits back. “I wish you didn’t have to go.” That’s all she says, her eyes watery and full of hope.
But she’s right. I’m already late as it is for this meeting. Mr. Conway will be ready to flip his lid by the time I get up to his office. At least now I will be more relaxed.
“There’s no place I’d rather be right now than here with you.” My words are sincere. I hate that I have to leave Regan, especially after a moment like the one we just shared.
As I tuck myself back into my pants and zip them, Regan gets up from the couch to slip her boy shorts back on and pulls her skirt into place. She runs a hand down the front of her pink blouse and stalks over to me.
Tipping her chin up with my index finger, so that our eyes meet, I say, “I promise. I’ll make it up to you. Let me take you to dinner this week. Wherever you want to go.”
“How about Luciano’s? I’ve heard a lot of good things from the players about that restaurant.”
I smile and nod. “I’ll make the reservation. How does Friday night sound? I should be able to sneak away for a few hours. You might get stuck playing the game with me afterwards, but at least we’ll get to spend some time together.”
Her eyes have not left mine since the minute she took my cock in her mouth. She’s giving me the innocent but sexy look that makes me want to bend her over my desk. Too bad it’s full of computer shit, and I have to deal with my asshole boss.
“Friday night is perfect.” The corners of her mouth turn up into a wide grin that lights up her face. “Our first real date.”
“Hey, it’s not our first date,” I correct, stroking her jaw with my thumb.
She leans into my hand, and I continue to massage her skin. “True, it would be our third, I suppose, but it will be our first date that does not consist of cheesesteaks and sausage sandwiches. You also owe me breakfast.” She places her hands on my chest and presses into me. “You weren’t supposed to get as far as you did until after we had three dates.”