I lift my chin a fraction of an inch more. He gives in, kissing me as one of his hands finds my breast. His tongue moves to my neck and then down to my nipple, where he draws circles around the tight bud.
My back arches when he continues south. He slicks my skin with his tongue, placing kisses on my ribs, on my belly button, and at the junction of my thighs. I blow out a tormented breath, and arch deeper.
“Guessing you want a coupla kisses somewhere specific?” He teasingly kisses my thigh. I swivel my pelvis toward his mouth. “Been a while, Kitty Cat?”
“It’s my favorite.” I pull my head off the pillow to make sure he sees me pouting.
“Lucky for you,” he says as he scoots away from the Promised Land, “I’m good at it. But I have a vow to keep first.” He drags his tongue along the inside of one of my knees. “Done right, this can be just as good.”
I grunt—half in disappointment, half in disbelief. He notices, of course. He notices everything.
“Don’t believe me?” Another lick and then he closes his lips over the same spot and suckles.
My toes curl. My nipples grow hard. “Oh my God.”
He finishes me off with a soft smooch but doesn’t offer a smart-ass comment or cocky eyebrow raise. Instead, he lowers his head and makes out with the sensitive spot behind my knee again.
I’m writhing by the time he moves to my right knee. About to beg by the time his lips graze my right thigh. And I nearly come on contact when he finally, finally licks my center with unerring devotion.
I yelp. A helpless, pleading sound. I fist the sheets as he pushes his tongue against my clit over and over again. He wasn’t exaggerating. He’s really good at this.
Sparks dance on my skin as a fireball blooms in my stomach. Tingles shoot down my legs—legs I’ve thrown over his shoulders. He’s made himself at home between my thighs and is making a five-course meal out of me. He takes a brief break that I take advantage of to catch my breath.
“Give those nipples a tug,” he instructs.
He wants me to...what? I manage a subtle shake of my head. I don’t make a habit of pleasing myself with an audience.
“Don’t get shy on me, Kitty Cat. Not with my face buried in your pussy.”
I stab my bottom lip with my top teeth, loving the harshness of his command. I reach up to give my nipples a quick tweak but stop when I notice Barrett watching. “Don’t look!”
“Honey. I’m looking. Do it again.” He offers a devilish smile, his handsome face framed by my spread legs. As if my body’s been taken hostage by his desires, I tug my nipples again.
“That’s it,” he encourages, still watching. He strokes my seam and then slides a finger in deep. I continue to tweak my own nipples, which sends a throbbing ache south. I keep my eyes locked with his.
“Keep going.” He doesn’t break eye contact when he lowers his head to suckle my clit. I nearly shoot off the bed from the surge that electrocutes my body.
I pause, my eyes wide. He grins.
He adds another finger, filling me. He continues to pleasure me while I touch myself. Soon I’m lost in a sea of powerful thrusts and sharp riptides of pleasure. My mind blots into mirrored abstract images as my most intense orgasm yet crashes over me.
I have no idea how long I lay there, sweat cooling on my temples, my breathing going shallow.
Eventually, I taste his kiss. He pushes the hair away from my forehead, and then he’s inside me, sliding deep and bringing me to the pinnacle yet again.
Chapter 20
Catarina
At five A.M. I climbed out of Barrett’s comfortable bed, hustled out of his apartment building, and drove home. I barely managed to arrive at the office by seven. I’m sleepy as hell from our activities last night but staying awake was oh-so worth it.
I’m blinking tired eyes and nursing my first cup of coffee when he arrives fifteen minutes behind me. The office is quiet—save a few early arrivals in the back corner. And Mia, who arrives at sunup, usually stays behind closed doors until at least nine.
“Hey,” I greet Barrett as he walks by.
“Hey, Kitty Cat.” He looks as tired as I am, but also incredible. His hair is mussed, reminding me of having my hands in it. His smile is barely there, likely thanks to my attempting to kiss it off his face in the wee hours of this very morning.
“You’re early.” Every inch of me leans toward him, my elbows on my desk, my body bowing in his direction. I link my fingers together to keep from literally reaching for him. One night with the man and already my greedy body wants seconds. Or would that be thirds? Fourths?
It’s understandable how one could lose count.
“I didn’t get much sleep,” he drawls, swaggering over to me, his black leather bag in hand. “Went to bed with this wild vixen.” He pauses to whistle. “She wore me out.”
I’m beaming. And blushing. And I’m considering dragging him to Marge’s abandoned office and showing him my vixen side again. Until Mia emerges from her office looking like Gollum crawled out of the cave.
“Mia.” I sit up straight and wipe the smile from my face, worried that I’m totally busted.
“About your email.” She’s frowning. Not good. I hammered out a request for an extension the second I set foot in here. Before I poured a cup of coffee. I had hoped she would’ve put off checking her email until later in the day. Guess not.
“You both need extensions? Is it too much to ask that, while I foot the bill for you to party all weekend, I receive one measly column in return?” She flashes me a displeased look and then that same look to Barrett, her eyes narrowing in consideration. Before she’s overcome by the pheromones that have leaked into the office like carbon monoxide, he speaks up.
“It’s my fault, Mia. Catarina’s half is done.”
I round my eyes, communicating Shut up! but he simply gives me a lazy smile.
“She’s covering for me.”
“He had to babysit his nephew unexpectedly,” I blurt. Mia’s expression morphs from angry to curious. “He, uh, he told me about it. That’s how I know.”
Oh, yeah. That was smooth.
“I can’t give you until three P.M. as requested,” she says sharply. “Noon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Barrett says.
Mia lets out a little harrumph like she’s offended at the “ma’am” but I notice she fluffs her hair before trudging back to her office. The door closes behind her, and I slump in my chair.
“Can I help?” I ask. “Pour you a cup of coffee? Do it for you?”
“Not necessary. Gotta get to work, Kitty Cat.” Then he gives me a wink that sends my heart aflutter. “You look pretty today. I like you in black.”
I pull my shoulders, draped in a fifties-style little black dress that skims down my body to just below my knees. My incredibly sexually satisfied knees.
When he sits at his desk and unpacks his laptop, I stand and shuffle to the break room, deciding to fetch him a cup of coffee anyway.
By quarter after eleven (aka forty-five minutes till deadline), I’m ignoring my work and staring worriedly at Barrett over the top of my laptop. He’s pecking away, unbelievably slowly, before swiping the touchpad to look at a different screen. He lingers there for a while before going back to his one-fingered hunting and pecking.