“No. It’s from you trying to fuck me in an elevator,” she said, firing back. She wasn’t some blushing virgin, or some innocent wide-eyed girl, who’d never seen the world nor heard a foul word from a man. She might have been terribly unlucky in love, but she knew plenty about sex, and she wasn’t going to play the part of a sweet, shy thing. But he didn’t seem to want her to, because he slipped his hand between her legs, sliding a finger through her slick flesh.
“Good, because I want to fuck you in the elevator. In the hallway. On the bed. In the shower. I have wanted to fuck you since I first saw you,” he said as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. They spilled out and the hall was empty. Praise the Lord of One-Night Stands, because he pushed her up against the wall in seconds, grabbing her wrists and holding them at her sides, and kissing her so hard that she was sure she might melt into a puddle of simmering lust and heat. She was wanted. Desperately wanted. By someone she craved. She had no notion when she walked into The Pierson that she’d be doing anything but walking out an hour later when her talk was done. But her plan for the evening had been upended, turned and twisted inside out into something entirely unexpected. And something she didn’t think she could stand going without. Her whole body pulsed for him, her blood thrumming through her veins to the rhythm of want, a pounding in her ears that blotted out everything but the feelings that charged through her.
She spent so much time in her head. So many moments of her life thinking, analyzing, considering.
Throwing that all out the door, she angled her hips as if she could pull him closer, even with her hands pinned. He responded with a press of his body. They were magnets tonight, crashing into their opposite charge, smashing, pushing, pulling.
His thumbs dug into her wrists as he held her tight, the pressure from them a new kind of sensation, hard against her bones. His lips smashed against hers, his mouth consuming her, taking her breath, taking her space, leaving nothing behind but hot need.
Now. That word echoed in her brain. She couldn’t wait. She couldn’t stop. She wanted him everywhere. Tongues, lips, mouth, fingers, but most of all she wanted him inside her. She ached with a deep throbbing desire that had to be quenched.
She managed to somehow separate her lips from his greedy ones that wanted to devour her.
“Jack,” she breathed out in a voice that was feather-thin. She was barely able to form words. Language seemed a monumental task, akin to climbing a mountain right now. Words were hazy, nebulous, but somehow she grabbed hold of the most important ones.
“I need you inside me. I can’t wait for anything else.”
“I can’t wait to give you a much better orgasm than the one you were going to give yourself,” he said, grabbing her hand, threading his fingers through hers and leading her around the bank of elevators and to the room. He slid the key into the slot and turned around, grabbing the waistband of her skirt, tugging her in close, and kissing her once more, as if he couldn’t stop. As if he simply had to touch her and taste her. First her jawline, then her lips, then deep into her mouth, kissing her passionately and with so much fire that she was certain she was going to set off smoke detectors any second.
But even if she did, she wouldn’t stop. Let them sound. Let them ring.
* * *
They didn’t even make it to the bed.
There was no point.
Beds were for the next time. For all-night sessions. For lovers that had been together before. For this? The first time called for the wall, because they couldn’t wait. He’d been hard since she sat down at the bar, that hot body taunting him in her sexy outfit that she didn’t even realize was sexy. Or hell, maybe she did.
As the door clanged shut, he backed her up against the wall, reached his hand behind her head, and unclipped her hair. Her soft brown hair spilled onto her shoulders and over his fingers.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her hair that smelled like jasmine. “Can I call you beautiful?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then stand with your feet spread, beautiful, and rock your sweet little body into my mouth,” he told her, her eyes widening with both surprise and lust as he bent down, kneeling, and pushed up her skirt in seconds. “I have to taste you.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” she said, her lips curling up, and he liked that she was so quick to talk back. A naughty one. A woman unafraid to speak her mind. He reached for her panties—black lace—and brought them down to her knees, then leaned in. He was dying to run his tongue along that enticing seam of her pussy lips. Spread them open and let her wetness flood his mouth. But first he wanted to inhale her scent, so he ran his nose along her thighs, feeling her quiver against his cheek.
“You smell so fucking good,” he said roughly.
“Oh, God,” she panted. He looked up and watched her as her head fell back against the wall. He hadn’t even touched her yet, and she was already grasping for his hair, trying to draw him near. Heat tore through him at her reaction, and he buzzed his lips and nose closer to her delicious center, breathing in her sexiness, inhaling her arousal.
The scent of her desire shot through him like an earthquake rumbling across the land. He pressed one soft kiss against her swollen clit, and she gasped. “Please,” she cried out, her voice ragged as it turned from sexy banter to bare need.
“Oh, beautiful, you make me want to tease you,” he said, brushing his lips against her inner thighs, her wetness covering his stubbled jawline. Perfect. “You make me want to make you beg for it when you say that word.”