After Hours. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ her the experience of a lifetime, and she was turning the tables on him. Making love to a woman like her was something he’d only dreamed of. She made him feel like the most gifted lover in the world, and yet it was her responsiveness making everything possible.

      Increasing the rhythm of his fingers and using his thumb to massage her special hot spot, he gloried in every whimpered cry as she reached for another shattering climax. Within seconds, she found it, rocking her hips in time with his strokes and sending yet more papers to the floor.

      As she gasped for breath, he eased her down until she was sprawled across the desk, her legs dangling off the edge. Moving between her outstretched legs, he leaned over her and braced his hands on either side of her head.

      “I haven’t even kissed you,” he said, gazing into her heavy-lidded eyes.

      She ran her tongue over her lips. “Kiss me…now.”

      “Tell me your name.”

      A spark flared in her eyes. “No.”

      “Mine is—”

      “Come here.” She pulled him toward her waiting mouth and into a kiss so deep, so erotic, that his hips began to move as his penis strained to break free of its confinement.

      She drew his tongue into her mouth, sucking and toying with it until the urge to be inside her burned every other thought from his brain. Wrenching free of her suggestive kiss, he backed away long enough to get out of his shoes and shuck his jeans and briefs.

      After grabbing the condom from the floor, he ripped open the package and rolled the latex over his aching penis.

      She watched him, her chest heaving, her body shimmering with heat, her hair spilling over the far edge of the desk. Her gaze dropped to his groin. “Now?”

      “Yes, now.”

      Her breath caught. “Here, on the desk?”

      “Absolutely. With your ankles wrapped around my neck and your sweet bottom sliding back and forth on whatever paperwork you’re lying on. You realize the ink will be smeared when we’re finished.”

      Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I don’t care.”

      “I think that’s what you want. A souvenir.” He grasped her calves and lifted them so she could hook her ankles around his neck and he…oh, yes, now he could enter the beautiful pink gates of heaven. Hands splayed under her bottom, he watched the tip of his penis slide in, and that was almost enough to make him come.

      With a low murmur of satisfaction, she propped her hands behind her head.

      He looked into her eyes, and saw the excitement glittering there. “Remember this tomorrow,” he said, and pushed deep.

      3

      THROUGH A SENSUAL HAZE, Eileen watched her fantasy man, his green eyes sparking with fire as he entered her. The sensation was all she could have wanted—the satisfaction of being filled as he moved deeper, exciting her all over again.

      She’d never been multi-orgasmic, and yet he’d made her come twice and would make her come again. She was already beginning to quiver.

      He eased back and pushed in again, his jaw flexing. “Promise me you’ll remember this tomorrow.”

      “I’ll remember.” She would remember this for the rest of her life. The desk under her back was hard and unyielding, but she didn’t care. With every thrust he brought her humming body closer to another orgasm, and she’d never had the depth of feeling that he gave her, never felt such quaking from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

      The fantasy must be heightening her reactions. She couldn’t have found a more perfect man to act out anonymous sex with her. Nameless, with no history and no expectations, he was completely of the moment.

      He could be a Greek god who’d materialized to seduce her, with his dark hair falling over his forehead, his classic features and his powerful body. And from this view he could be a centaur, half-man and half-animal, taking his pleasure from a mortal. He was definitely taking his pleasure. Lust shone in his eyes as he plunged into her, his strokes picking up speed, his chest gleaming with sweat.

      The rising tide of an orgasm gripped her, ready to fling her into the whirlpool again. She panted, wanting that wild ride one more time. But he clenched his jaw and deliberately slowed his movements.

      She licked her dry lips. “More,” she whispered in a husky voice she barely recognized as her own. “Faster.”

      “Not yet.” He stroked her with slow, lazy movements, holding himself back so he missed that magic spot he’d been stimulating so expertly before.

      “You want…to make it…last longer?” Her blood pounded furiously in her veins, demanding a release he was denying her.

      “Tell me your name.”

      “No.”

      “Tell me.” He teased her with quick, shallow thrusts that stopped short of giving her what she needed.

      “No,” she murmured, easing her hands from behind her head as she gasped for breath and strained toward a climax. “Do you…do you think you can hold off…until I tell you? Is that it?”

      “Maybe.”

      “I won’t tell you.” Leaning her head on the desk and closing her eyes, she cupped her breast in one hand and reached between her legs with the other.

      He swore softly. “Don’t do that.”

      “I don’t need you to finish this.” She caressed her nipple and brushed her finger over her sensitive trigger point, right above where he was sliding back and forth. She was so close, so very close….

      His hold on her bottom tightened, and with a groan he plunged deep, pinning her finger in place. In an instant, she climaxed, hotly, loudly, wildly. He erupted with her, his cries mingling with hers. Her writhing body sent the telephone jangling and crashing to the floor.

      And then there was silence, except for the sound of their tortured breathing. When her world stopped spinning, she gradually opened her eyes and gazed up at the ceiling. She’d never had reason to notice the ceiling of her office before. Acoustical tile. Who knew?

      She imagined the picture she must make sprawled across her desk, one hand clutching her breast and the other locked between her body and the body of the man whose penis was buried inside her. She must look like the sexual adventurer she’d always wanted to be. Crumpled and smeared papers lay under her and littered the carpet around her desk. Her phone could be broken.

      She’d certainly nailed this fantasy.

      He stirred. Then slowly he lowered her hips back to the desk and eased her legs down until they were wrapped around his waist. He stayed firmly connected to her, though.

      She took her hand from her breast and tilted her head up to look at him just as he slid her other hand from between their joined bodies and lifted it to his lips.

      “I’ll still give you credit for that one,” she СКАЧАТЬ