Pursued by the Playboy by Jill Blake Page B

inside this room, right now, this second, with this man who was slowly driving her insane.  She tangled her fingers in his hair, breaking their embrace for a moment, just long enough to drag in a breath of air, and then reclaimed his mouth, adjusting the angle for better access.   One hand drifted down, across the flexing muscles of his back, pulling at the fabric of his shirt until it was free of his pants.  Bare skin met hers, radiating heat.  She hooked a finger under his waistband and traced a path around to the front.  Taut s tomach muscles rippled beneath her touch.
    Before she could pull open the drawstring on his scrubs, he caught her wrist.  “Condom?”
    It took a few moments for the word to register, though her brain was still too drugged with desire to grasp the question.  “What?”
    “I didn’t bring anything,” he said.
    By this time she had managed to shake off his hold and slip her hand beneath his scrubs and boxer shorts.  His erection pulsed against her palm.  She ran her fingers along its rigid length, thumb circling the tip, catching a bead of moisture and rubbing it into the silky smooth skin that seemed to swell even more in her grasp.   He groaned.   Encouraged, she stroked him more firmly, until he caught her wrist again and gasped, “Wait.”
    He pulled her hand away, up to his lips, kissing and then sucking each fingertip into the warm wet cavern of mouth.  She felt an answering spurt of moisture between her legs, as if each lap of his tongue on her fingers was transmitted directly to her groin.   She was so focused on the sensations he was drawing from her with his mouth that she barely noticed what he was doing with his other hand.   Her bra clasp came undone, the shirt and bra pushed up out of the way.  His palm settled on her breast, kneading, plucking at the nipple.  And then his mouth joined in, sucking the peak, nipping gently with his teeth, soothing the area with his tongue. 
    She felt boneless, awash with pleasure.  It was too much of an effort to keep her eyes open, and she felt her lids sag, her head drop back.  Her hands drifted down, settling behind her, finding purchase on the desk. 
    His breath whispered over her quivering stomach as he knelt between her legs.  With shaking hands he dragged her capris off, and with them the scrap of lace that was the last barrier between his mouth and her molten core.  The first flick of his tongue had her moaning, and then his fingers delved into her curls and parted the delicate folds.  His thumb slicked moisture over the tiny nubbin of sensation before settling into a steady circular motion that had her gasping, while his tongue delved deep inside her and retreated, over and over.  It was too much to bear.  Her hips lifted involuntarily, straining to meet his mouth, and he responded by quickening the movement of his fingers and tongue, rubbing and lapping at her until she shattered.  She barely managed to stifle her cry of release at the last minute by biting her lip hard.  His mouth gentled, then after one last lick, withdrew.  She felt his arms sliding up her body, wrapping around her, bringing her up against his chest.   For several moments, she rested against him, the silence broken only by the sound of his harsh breathing and hammering heart. 
    Eventually she stirred and he loose ne d his embrace.  “You okay?” he said.
    “Yeah.”  She found it hard to meet his gaze.  “You didn’t…”
    His laugh was a low rumble.  “It’ll keep until tonight.”  He cupped her face and drew her mouth into a long leisurely kiss.  Finally he pulled back.  “We need to get you on the pill.”
    She slipped off the desk and started gathering her clothes.  Her senses were still fogged, and she felt disconnected from her body, as if her limbs belonged to someone else.  The simple effort of pulling on her clothing required all her concentration. 
    “I can get you in with a colleague,” he said after