Nate lagged behind as she headed for the dressing rooms, figuring he’d use the time to answer a few emails from business partners. That would help him in his quest too.
Then the neck of his shirt grew tighter, and he turned to find Casey jerking on it. “I need your opinion, goofball. That’s why I brought you here,” she said and practically dragged him to the dressing rooms, where classical music piped in overhead and the voices of other shoppers were hushed. It was like being in a church. She pressed her hands to his shoulders and pushed him down in a beige upholstered chair.
“Stay here. I’ll be right out to show you.”
She disappeared into the dressing room, and clicked the door shut behind her.
All his business thoughts fled his brain once more as he imagined her skimming down her jeans, tugging off her top, sliding those curves he loved into that dress.
He heard the door open and Casey popped her head out.
“That was fast,” he said, because she’d been in there for about five seconds.
She crooked her finger. He followed her lead, entering the dressing room. She was still wearing her jeans, her shirt and her shoes. The dress she brought into the room hung on a hanger on a hook. He pointed to the blue fabric and parted his lips, but the words he was about to say died quickly when she grabbed his collar, and pushed him against the wall. In an instant, her lips were on his, devouring him. All his questions and all his irritation leaked away in the wild hunger of her mouth. She kissed him relentlessly, sucking on his tongue and his lips so hard that he felt the kiss deep in his bones. It vibrated through his bloodstream. His brain went haywire. His body launched into maximum overdrive from the ferocity of her kiss. Her hands threaded through his hair as she rubbed her lush, delicious body along his, grinding her crotch against him, sending him spinning.
She broke apart, whispering, “You really had no idea?”
“No idea what?” His brain was still foggy and probably would be for days.
With lightning speed, she dipped a hand below the waistband of his jeans, stroking him. “Why I brought you here.”
He nearly growled from the temporary relief. “I really haven’t been able to think straight since the plane.”
She unzipped his jeans, freeing his erection. He was ready to get down on his knees and thank the heavens for her touch. Her soft nimble hands stroked him, and he began rocking into her fist, seeking friction, seeking heat. He didn’t care what she was going to do to him right now. As long as she didn’t stop touching him anything would be okay.
A groan rumbled through him.
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh . . . you need to be quiet. Harrod’s is a very classy place,” she said softly in his ear, her breath tickling his skin. “I need you to do that for me. Can you promise me you won’t make a sound?”
There was something so sexy about her voice right now, in the way she owned every single second of his pleasure. She’d taken charge, and she seemed to relish mapping out all the details of whatever it was she planned to do to him.
“I promise,” he said. He would agree to anything right now.
“Then,” she said, lingering on every word as she breathed hotly in his ear, “fuck my mouth.”
She dropped to her knees, pushed his jeans down a few more inches, and dived in. There was no teasing, no licking, no flick of her tongue against the swollen head of his cock, and he was damn grateful. He didn’t want finesse or foreplay. He wanted to be touched.
“Just like that,” he said on a groan. “All the way.”
She stopped, and shook her head. The message was clear. She was in charge, and he had to listen. He mimed zipping his mouth shut, and she returned to lavishing attention on his cock.
This blow job was straightforward. She took him all the way in and went to town on his shaft. It didn’t matter that he’d been told to be quiet. Even if he could talk, he had nothing to say. The only sounds he’d have made would have been animalistic. Besides, she didn’t need any direction from him.
She swirled her tongue along his dick and sucked so hard she was blowing his mind too. The friction was astonishing. She was fast, and she was furious, and her lips were locked so tightly around him that she looked exactly as she had when he’d dreamed of her doing this.
Unspeakable pleasure slammed into his body, twisting, rising, coiling through his veins. He was close, so close. She stopped once and he was ready to grab her head and drag her back to him, when he looked down to see her licking his balls. The sight of that made him nearly explode.
She worked her tongue over on him until he could no longer take it. He speared his hands into her hair, whispering harshly, “Get back on me now.”
She raised her eyebrows, the hottest look of satisfaction in her gaze as she wrapped her lips around his dick once more, then grabbed his ass in her hands and rocked him into her mouth.
This was it. This was the motherfucking blow job of his life. He gave it to her good and she took it, obliterating his hold on any thread of sanity with the way her wicked tongue licked him and her lips sucked hard, so hard that the pressure built and built and built, then it simply crashed into him, ripping all the breath from his lungs. White-hot light erupted behind his eyelids.
He gripped her head, curling his fingers around her skull as she dug her sharp nails into his ass. He came hard in her mouth. It was an explosion of pleasure in his body, a sheer blast of intoxication rocketing through his cells.
Blow jobs were certainly known to sink a man’s hold on logic, to lead a man to say things that he wouldn’t ordinarily say. But he’d retained some awareness of his surroundings, and the proximity to other people beyond the dressing room doors. Otherwise, he probably would’ve blurted out something he wasn’t ready to reveal. Not just something sexual or dirty, but something deeper, about how much he had wanted that from her. For years.