“Whatever,” he replied, reaching behind me and unhooking my bra. “If I only have tonight, I need to see these,” he said, staring at my chest as he palmed my skin and pulled at my nipples. My back arched into his touch. He was so forceful, so single-minded about sex—just as he was about everything else. To have that focus concentrated on my body was almost too much to bear.
His hands left my breasts and he dragged his palm down across my stomach until his fingers found my clit. I groaned as his thumb circled and pressed, pulling out my pleasure, inch by inch. His fingers stroked at my folds, and I threw my hands over my head, needing him to send me over the edge.
“Max,” I whispered, opening my legs wider, inviting more of him.
“You’re desperate for me. My hand is covered in you.”
I groaned at his dirty mouth. But he was right. I was desperate for him.
“Look at me,” he growled.
I opened my eyes. He wore the same look when he was concentrating at work—as if nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted.
He stilled and removed his hand, standing up straight. “I want my cock in your mouth. Please.” His voice was thick with lust.
He’d been getting me worked up to get his dick sucked? He played dirty.
“Now,” he added.
I paused while I thought about my next move. Was I going to give in to him? The thing was, it wasn’t giving in if it was what I wanted. And I did want to have him in my mouth, to make him feel even half of what he made me feel.
I moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Opening my thighs, I tapped the mattress just in front of my pussy. I cocked my head. “You trust me not to bite?”
He chuckled. “Nope. But that just adds to the fun.”
I trailed my nails up his outer thigh, and he tipped his head back on a muffled gasp.
His cock was thick and stood to attention against his stomach. I flickered my gaze from his erection to his eyes, wondering how I was going to handle him. He brushed his thumb over my cheekbone, and I gave him a small smile as I leaned forward, the flat of my tongue connecting with the base of his dick. I dragged it up his shaft.
“Jesus,” he called out.
I swirled my tongue around his head and took just the tip of him in my mouth. I wouldn’t be able to take him deep—he was too big. I circled my hand around his base, gripping him tight. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a moan from the memory of him inside me, filling me. My nipples pebbled, and he must have been watching because he caught them between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed and pulled, setting off sharp circuits of pleasure from my breasts to my belly button and then lower to my clit.
I took him deeper, my jaw as wide as it would go.
“Yes, like that. That’s how I’ve imagined you.”
I circled again, then took him deeper this time. He groaned, whispering about my mouth and my tongue. His fingers threaded into my hair. Not pushing, not directing, it was as if he just wanted to touch me, to be further connected to me. I pulled back, allowing my teeth to graze his shaft just slightly.
“You’re wicked,” he growled and I pumped his cock with both hands while sucking on his crown. “But it’s not enough.” He lifted my chin and I released my hands. I was more than certain I was giving him a great blow job. What was his problem?
“Open your legs,” he said. Reaching across to his nightstand, he grabbed a condom, sheathing his cock in seconds. “Wider,” he barked, pushing apart my thighs. “I’m going so deep, you’re going to forget what day of the week it is.”
Before I had a chance to argue, he pushed into me. The sheer force of his body, his cock, stole my breath, despite being ready for him and wet with longing. I looked into his eyes, wanting him to understand it was almost too much.
“You’re okay, Harper. I have you.”
At just the right time, he knew how to be gentle.
“Relax and feel me.” I couldn’t do anything else. It was as if I’d lost the fight. My body went limp and I took a deep breath. He circled his hands around my waist and pulled me onto him as he thrust his hips forward. If this was Vegas, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to leave.
Smoothing my hands up his arms, I tugged gently at his biceps. I wanted him over me, touching me, his body pressed against mine. I didn’t have to say a word. Disconnecting from me for just a second, he reached under me, pulled me farther up the bed, then braced his body over me and drove back in deep.
Ordinarily, I liked to be on top, to control the rhythm so I could ensure things were just right, but Max left no room for that. Somehow, I didn’t need it. Things were more than right. I didn’t have space to think; it was all feeling, all sensation. “Oh God, Max,” I screamed.
“Again.” He pushed in deeper still. “Scream my name again.”
It was as if he had his finger on a button deep inside me and kept pressing until everything was at capacity and I exploded. “Max, Max. Oh Jesus, Max.”
The bed tilted and the room lit up in pinks and blues as he pushed into me three more times, my name echoing around the room.
Vegas was my new favorite place in America.
Chapter 8
Max
I pressed my thumbs hard against the wood, ensuring the tape on the back of my sign stuck to the meeting room door.
“War room?” Donna asked, standing with her arms folded in front of Harper. They were both staring at my sign. I resisted the smile that threated the corners of my mouth as I fixated on Harper’s reddened lips and the blush in her cheeks. God she was such a distraction. Perhaps inviting her to work on this pitch wasn’t such a good idea after all. I would just have to control myself—she would be a useful resource.
I turned back to the door. “Yes, this is war. We need to get ready.”
“Okay.” Donna handed me a coffee, leaving me with Harper.
“First thing we need to do is information gather,” I said. Harper nodded. Last night had been Vegas. Walking away from anything personal between us was the right thing to do, but it took every drop of self-control I had not to reach out and touch her. “Jim, Marvin,” I yelled. I needed to distract myself, find the off switch in my body that would turn off the desire to kiss her, touch her, own her.
Jim and Marvin dutifully left their desks and strode toward us. “Donna.”
“I’m here,” Donna said from behind me, almost making me jump.
“Stop creeping up on me.”
She rolled her eyes and took the tray of water and fruit she was holding past me straight into the meeting room. Or war room.
The team took their seats and I shrugged off my jacket, placing it on the back of the chair.
“We have less than three weeks. You guys know how much working with JD Stanley would mean to King & Associates, and to me personally. Now that we finally have our shot, we’re going to throw everything at it.” I didn’t want to raise expectations. I knew our chances of landing this account were slim to none. We could be being brought in just because I’d been making a nuisance of myself. We might get told to back off. Or JD Stanley could just be using it as an opportunity to gather additional information—key geopolitical insights—without giving anything away, without hiring us. And of course, there was the possibility Harper’s father wanted an opportunity to play games, get his daughter’s attention. Who knew?