before breakfast never slowed Sam Watson down.
“ Have I told you I love you this morning?” he asked.
He had.
Numerous times, in English, Spanish, French and what she thought
might be German—once he’d discovered she got turned on by foreign
languages, he’d exploited her weakness without a qualm.
“ I love you too.” She nipped at his earlobe and sighed, just as
disappointed as she was about to make him. She lowered her legs to
the floor, leaving her arms around his neck, forcing him to bend
over. “I have to get dressed.”
“ No, you need to stay naked.” His gaze dropped again, lingered.
A smile played at the corners of his lips. “Drop the towel and get
on your knees, Princesa .”
He didn’t really want her to go down on him now , did he? Then again,
they’d set the rules right at the outset of their relationship that
he would never call her Princesa outside of a scene. His use of it now meant he was
serious.
“ We don’t have time, Sam.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I told
Mama I’d be there to help her. I don’t want to be late—you realize
she’ll know what we’ve been doing.”
“ We’ve got time.” He tugged on the hem of the towel. “Drop the
towel, Princesa .
Now.”
A second
use of her nickname. While she enjoyed pushing his boundaries, this
wasn’t the time. Without another thought, she released the towel
and lowered herself to her knees in front of him. Her nipples
beaded tight in the cool air after the warmth of the shower, but
the rest of her body heated.
What was
it about her that loved when he let his dominant side come out to
play? She carried a gun and as one of Hauberk’s lead operatives,
other people obeyed her orders. So why were her breasts aching for
his touch, her pussy rippling in anticipation of dropping to her
knees in front of him?
He
unzipped his pants and freed his cock, long and hard, from his
trousers. She reached up to touch him, but he stopped her. “Lace
your fingers together behind your back.”
She
leaned forward and let the fat head of his cock slip over her lips,
her tongue darting out to lick the salty bead at the slit. He
groaned and fisted his hands in her hair, holding her in place to
thrust his shaft past her lips and over her tongue.
Since
she couldn’t move, or touch him with her hands, she sucked hard on
his head, her tongue lashing the sensitive spot at its rim. His
grunts rumbled through the room as she swallowed him until her nose
brushed the dark wool of his suit and the head of his cock bumped
the back of her throat. Letting her teeth scrape his length, she
pulled back. Alternating the suction, she repeated the process,
loving the bite of pain from his hold on her hair.
His hips
flexed, pumping faster, his eyes unfocused and his face screwed up
tight as if he were in pain, a sign he was close to losing control.
Was there anything better than knowing she had such power over
him?
With a
snarl, Sam loosened his grip and pulled from her mouth. “Turn
around. Brace your arms on the desk.”
Damn,
she’d wanted to watch him when he came. She did as he ordered and
parted her legs to give him easier access. Thank heavens for the
mirror over the desk; she could still watch him.
His
Savile Row suit scratched her bare behind, reminding her he was
still dressed while she was completely naked. The white of his
crisply starched shirt accentuated the perpetual tan of his
Hawaiian heritage. At her urging, he’d let his hair grow longer.
Soon it would be a shock of thick waves she had to pay a fortune to
her stylist to achieve.
He
smiled back at her, traced the Blue Morpho butterfly tattoo at the
base of her spine. “You think I don’t realize you like to watch
too?”
She
couldn’t stop her snort of derision, despite appreciating that he’d
indulged her voyeuristic side. “Yeah, I love looking at myself when
my hair looks like Medusa’s.”
There
was no mistaking the love in his eyes, but his lips firmed and he
shook his head.
“ Have I told you I love you this morning?” he asked.
He had.
Numerous times, in English, Spanish, French and what she thought
might be German—once he’d discovered she got turned on by foreign
languages, he’d exploited her weakness without a qualm.
“ I love you too.” She nipped at his earlobe and sighed, just as
disappointed as she was about to make him. She lowered her legs to
the floor, leaving her arms around his neck, forcing him to bend
over. “I have to get dressed.”
“ No, you need to stay naked.” His gaze dropped again, lingered.
A smile played at the corners of his lips. “Drop the towel and get
on your knees, Princesa .”
He didn’t really want her to go down on him now , did he? Then again,
they’d set the rules right at the outset of their relationship that
he would never call her Princesa outside of a scene. His use of it now meant he was
serious.
“ We don’t have time, Sam.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I told
Mama I’d be there to help her. I don’t want to be late—you realize
she’ll know what we’ve been doing.”
“ We’ve got time.” He tugged on the hem of the towel. “Drop the
towel, Princesa .
Now.”
A second
use of her nickname. While she enjoyed pushing his boundaries, this
wasn’t the time. Without another thought, she released the towel
and lowered herself to her knees in front of him. Her nipples
beaded tight in the cool air after the warmth of the shower, but
the rest of her body heated.
What was
it about her that loved when he let his dominant side come out to
play? She carried a gun and as one of Hauberk’s lead operatives,
other people obeyed her orders. So why were her breasts aching for
his touch, her pussy rippling in anticipation of dropping to her
knees in front of him?
He
unzipped his pants and freed his cock, long and hard, from his
trousers. She reached up to touch him, but he stopped her. “Lace
your fingers together behind your back.”
She
leaned forward and let the fat head of his cock slip over her lips,
her tongue darting out to lick the salty bead at the slit. He
groaned and fisted his hands in her hair, holding her in place to
thrust his shaft past her lips and over her tongue.
Since
she couldn’t move, or touch him with her hands, she sucked hard on
his head, her tongue lashing the sensitive spot at its rim. His
grunts rumbled through the room as she swallowed him until her nose
brushed the dark wool of his suit and the head of his cock bumped
the back of her throat. Letting her teeth scrape his length, she
pulled back. Alternating the suction, she repeated the process,
loving the bite of pain from his hold on her hair.
His hips
flexed, pumping faster, his eyes unfocused and his face screwed up
tight as if he were in pain, a sign he was close to losing control.
Was there anything better than knowing she had such power over
him?
With a
snarl, Sam loosened his grip and pulled from her mouth. “Turn
around. Brace your arms on the desk.”
Damn,
she’d wanted to watch him when he came. She did as he ordered and
parted her legs to give him easier access. Thank heavens for the
mirror over the desk; she could still watch him.
His
Savile Row suit scratched her bare behind, reminding her he was
still dressed while she was completely naked. The white of his
crisply starched shirt accentuated the perpetual tan of his
Hawaiian heritage. At her urging, he’d let his hair grow longer.
Soon it would be a shock of thick waves she had to pay a fortune to
her stylist to achieve.
He
smiled back at her, traced the Blue Morpho butterfly tattoo at the
base of her spine. “You think I don’t realize you like to watch
too?”
She
couldn’t stop her snort of derision, despite appreciating that he’d
indulged her voyeuristic side. “Yeah, I love looking at myself when
my hair looks like Medusa’s.”
There
was no mistaking the love in his eyes, but his lips firmed and he
shook his head.
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