between your legs and smell you. I want you on my tongue.”
At that, her gaze cut to his. “Some kind of sweet talker, aren’t you, sugar?”
But she kept the eye contact, not even looking away when he slowly started to stroke, moving his fingers to the rhythm of her short choppy breaths. Her eyes expressed everything she was feeling—the fire, the ache, the surprise that she was giving up so much of what he was making her feel.
Putting so much trust into his hands.
What he saw was almost enough to make him believe she was reaching for more than her own completion. That she was giving him a release from his cynicism that anything about this encounter was smart.
She pulled in a sharp breath. He felt it jerk her body away, and then he felt her climax. The walls of her sex clenched around the fingers he had buried deep inside. Moisture rushed down his hand to soak the triangle of her thong.
He vibrated the edge of his palm into the divide of her swollen sex, his fingers feeling her spasms fade even as he pressed his thumb down against her knot of tight nerves. Her own fingertips gouged the back of his hand as she held him still for her finish.
Finally, she exhaled. Her body relaxed even as her disposition stiffened. Seconds ago she’d pulled him close; now she pushed him away, removing his hand from her clothing and straightening the drape of her skirt.
Despite the flush in her cheeks, her brows arched elegantly, dismissively. She cleared her throat. “Well, now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, why don’t you wait for me in the lobby, sugar? I’ll be out in a minute.”
Eric couldn’t believe it. He was standing here with his dick on the verge of exploding, with Chloe’s cream all over his hand. He’d just concentrated on giving her the orgasm of her life, and had had a hell of a good time doing it. And now she was blowing him off?
He folded his arms across his chest. “In case you didn’t notice, princess, I didn’t get anything out of my system. Not that I’m complaining. Having you come in my hand was hotter than being inside most other women.”
Her deepening flush said she wasn’t nearly as cool as her expression implied.
“Still,” he added, stepping on eggshells, “you might want to work on being more…”
“Appreciative? Admiring? Full of slavish adulation?”
He frowned. “I’d settle for plain old-fashioned being honest. For some reason you hate to admit that you lost control just now. And that’s a damn shame, Chloe. Because if it feels so good for us to lose control separately, think what it would feel like to hold nothing back when we’re together.”
Walking away after that comment was as difficult for him physically as it was emotionally.
But her turbulent expression made it easier to bear.
6
L AUREN H OLLISTER HAD never forgotten a thing she’d once known about feeling self-conscious. Still, that seemed like another lifetime, and she no longer thought twice about standing alone in a crowd with nothing but her musings for company.
Here at the open house, she felt completely at home. She’d already visited with most of her friends, met and mingled with the firm’s employees, spouses and significant others in numbers equal to that of the media.
Lingering now near the lobby’s receptionist station, she sipped her champagne and people-watched, getting a secret little kick out of witnessing the professionalism projected by her gIRL-gEAR partners.
To think these were the same women with whom she’d discussed bikini waxes and hair-care products and flavored condoms, with whom she shared tales of sex gone wrong as well as sex gone right, with whom she indulged in chocolate and margaritas…though the latter two definitely not at the same time. Or either one when she was on a diet.
Like the rest of the gIRL-gEAR partners, Lauren was confident in who she was and what she wanted from life. She loved her work in multimedia design and especially loved being part
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