She’s not wearing the fancy, expensive lingerie as one might expect—as I expected, if I’m being honest—of a rich woman. No, she’s wearing a simple white cotton tank top with spaghetti straps. Her ample breasts stretch the thin material to the point of transparency so I can see with utter clarity her hard nipples. The tank comes down only as far as her belly button, and below that she has on a pair of boy shorts that sit low on her hips and ride up indecently high on her ass cheeks.
Veronica freezes as she sees me, right in the middle of pouring wine into an empty glass. The bottle is only slightly tilted, so no liquid has escaped.
Slowly, she sets the bottle down and turns my way. Casually pressing a palm onto the white marble countertop, she crosses one leg over the other at the ankles. It’s a sexy, sweet pose, and it totally works.
“Right on time,” she says.
I don’t bother addressing that. She could never have known if I was going to show up or when, but I do another slow perusal of her body from head to toe and back up again.
“Got a condom?” she asks, a light smirk on her face.
“Got more than one,” I reply as I advance on her. I love the way her eyes flare at my proclamation as she’s definitely getting more than she bargained for. “Don’t plan on getting to sleep anytime soon.”
A rush of I don’t know what escapes from her, and it almost makes me wonder if she’s hesitant, but I almost swallow my tongue as she reaches to the hem of her tank top and lifts it up and off her body.
I come to a dead halt, eyes fixed on her breasts that have been freed. Lust rockets through me over her bold move.
“Like what you see?” she whispers.
That jars me from my momentary paralysis, and I take the last few steps to her. I grab her hand, and she gasps as I press it to my crotch. “Doesn’t it feel like I like what I see?”
Her fingers curl around my jean-clad erection and she squeezes hard. I know at this moment, she’s going to give me a run for my money. If that’s the case, I’m going in no holds barred.
In a flash, I have one hand around her lower back, her skin warm against my palm, and the other hand wound up in her long, blond hair. I pull her head back, baring her throat for my teeth and nibble and scrape my way down it. Across her collarbone, along the swell of one breast right to her nipple, which I bite gently before sucking it hard.
Veronica bucks in my arms, her hands diving into my hair and holding me tight as if to say, “Don’t you dare think about moving from there.”
But I control the show, not her, so I release her nipple with a resounding pop before releasing my hold on her. I have to give her a slight push in the center of her chest to dislodge her hands from my hair, which is only to give me room to take off my own T-shirt. I drop it carelessly to the floor beside hers and enjoy the way her eyes have not an ounce of shame as they roam over my chest and stomach, ogling me the way I ogled her.
I step toward her, and for some reason, she takes a step back. Her eyes sparkle with challenge, her chest rising and falling, that one nipple a darker red than the other from my mouth.
I take another step toward her, my hands going to my belt. As I pull it free from the buckle, she edges back again.
“Second thoughts?” I ask gruffly.
I slip the belt free from the loops, taking another step her way. She moves back, her eyes pinned on the belt with interest.
“This works great for binding wrists,” I say conversationally. I love the way her eyes flash with heat. I drop the belt to the ground. “Maybe another time. I’d like your hands free to do what they want for now.”
Upon seeing her disappointment, pure in its form, I make a note to use a belt at some point.
I haven’t even fucked her yet, and I’m fairly certain I’ll be coming back up her elevator again in the near future.
As I’m unbuttoning my jeans, lowering the zipper, we play a cat-and-mouse walk clear across her kitchen until her back comes up against the wall that leads into the dining room through a curved archway.
I see a heavy, quality-built dining table that seats ten through there and figure it will work well.
With a lunge, I grab Veronica, and she shrieks in surprise, followed by a husky laugh as my hands go to her ass to lift her up. Her legs wrap around my waist, just as they did last week, as if they know their place—and our mouths fuse as I walk into the dining room.
She clings to me tightly, tongue thrashing against mine. I move to the end of the dining table and kick the heavy chair out of the way before lowering her ass to the mahogany. I break the kiss, putting a palm to her chest and pushing her so her back hits the table. I divest her of her little panty shorts, and just like that, she’s splayed naked on the dining table.
She’s a fucking feast.
For a moment, I can tell she’s all in, then doubt crosses her face. I wait, and she tips her head back to the large pane of glass that overlooks the Phoenix skyline. “I don’t have blinds.”
“Don’t care,” I reply.
“Someone might see,” she points out.
“Also don’t care.”
She considers that, lower lip sucked between her teeth, before finally saying, “Oh well… I don’t even know my neighbors, anyway.”
“Good girl,” I praise as I spread her legs with my hands and step in between them. I bend over and press one palm to the dining table near her ribs.
Veronica starts to rise up, perhaps to meet me for a kiss. Instead, my other hand goes between her legs, and my fingers find her wet and warm. I slide one in, and she flops back down to the table with an audible groan, her hips tilting and flexing in a silent plea for more.
So I give her more—another finger and my thumb playing along her clit. She’s so fucking responsive that I can feel her muscles gripping onto me as I try to slide out. I had thought about working her to readiness with my mouth because I’m dying to go down on her, but she’s ready.
So goddamn ready, and I know this for sure when she says, “You’re killing me, Riggs.”
Unfortunately, I have to pull my hand away from in between her legs, but it shoots straight to my wallet where I quickly pull out a condom. Veronica’s eyes shine with appreciation.
“This is going to be fast and hard,” I feel compelled to advise her.
“Not fast enough,” she says, leaning up to rip the condom from me. While she frees it from the package, I push my jeans down and free my cock, which needs not one single ministration from Veronica to be ready. It was ready the minute I stepped off that elevator and saw her standing there.
I step in closer, and Veronica attempts to put the condom on. Her hands are shaking and she looks unsure, and I remember she’s been married. Condoms may not be her forte, so I help her along, coaxing her fingers and hands on how to do it. I suppress a groan as she rolls it on.
My hand goes to the back of Veronica’s neck, and I haul her up further so I can kiss her again. Intensely passionate, there’s so much communication and promise just with our lips and tongues. My hand goes back between her legs, and I work her clit lightly as we kiss. Slip my fingers back in, savoring how warm and wet she is. When the bucking of her hips gets overly insistent, I once again pull my hand away.
Stepping back with my one hand still behind her neck, I pull Veronica all the way up from the table. Her eyes cloud with confusion and then flash with surprise as I spin her around.