She has no fucking clue.
The things I could do to her.
The way I could make her feel.
But it’s a bad idea.
For both of us.
Even inebriated, I know it’s true.
“You’re right,” I lie. “You’re not my type.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“No problem at all.”
“Good,” she says.
“Good.”
“Good,” she repeats, huffing and marching to the bathroom. Against my better judgment, I slip beneath the covers on the bed and stare at the ceiling like I was when she exited the shower.
I’m curious.
Fuck me, I’m curious.
And I haven’t been curious about anyone in years. Even Scarlett was nothing but a distraction. A pretty and convenient one, but a distraction nonetheless.
Mia?
She’s fucking gorgeous. But convenient?
Hardly.
Sleeping with her would be a terrible idea. Even contemplating it is dangerous. And considering it while sleeping beside her in this bed? It’s practically suicide.
But making her come? For only one night because she thinks I can’t?
The bathroom door opens a few minutes later, followed by the sound of rustling cloth. The bed dips as she slides under the comforter, drags it up to her chin, and slips a hot pink eye mask over her face.
Seriously?
She sleeps in one of those things?
It clashes with the badass persona she wears like a second skin, but it only feeds my curiosity. My interest. I bite back my amusement as I take her in beside me. I don’t comment on it, choosing to flip the lamp beside the bed off instead.
She shifts beside me and lets out a slow breath. The soft sound shoots straight to my dick, and I give into it. Letting it wash over me. Letting it spur me on. I blame the darkness. The scotch. The shit week. The loss of tonight’s game. The knowledge that Mia isn’t like others, which she’s proven time and time again.
“You’re looking for someone to fuck?” My voice cuts through the silent room.
“Buchanan,” she whines. “Go to sleep.”
“It’s what you said, right? You’re not looking for someone to date, but someone to fuck is on the table?”
“Can we drop it, please?”
“You really think I can’t make you come?”
Shoving her eye mask on top of her head, she shifts onto her side, rests her weight on her elbow, and looks at me. It’s dark, but the moonlight filters through the hotel window, making her the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every inch. Every freckle. Every curve.
“I was spouting off bullshit, okay?” she huffs. “It’s what I do, so ignore me.”
Ignore her?
Does she have any idea how impossible it is? How much she intrigues me? Gets under my skin? Drives me insane? And she thinks I can simply…ignore her?
“Put your sleep mask back in place,” I order, lifting the sheets and dipping my head beneath them.
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t move as I maneuver myself closer to her.
“Buchanan, what are you doing?”
“Spread your thighs for me,” I grit out. The sheets are already warm, having stolen her body heat as she shifts slightly beneath the comforter and makes room for me.
“Buchanan,” she repeats. The warning is on the tip of her tongue, tainting my last name, but she opens her legs a little more, and I slide to the bottom of the bed, settling between her thighs.
“You should know I don’t appreciate being underestimated.” Only a thin scrap of black lace covers her pussy, and I breathe her in, committing her scent to memory. I’m unsure if I’m drunk on scotch or if Mia is the one leaving me dizzy, but I don’t question it. My mouth waters even more, and my dick strains against my sweats, the last of my logic dissipating into thin air as my meal lies in front of me. I lean closer, sucking her lips through the flimsy fabric, and she squirms.
“Wait.” The word is nothing but a breath, yet it cuts through the alcohol, and I pull back a few inches. Waiting.
Her breathing is unsteady, and her hips shift slightly in front of me as if she can’t help herself. As if her body wants me even if her mind doesn’t.
Trust me, Mia. The feeling’s mutual.
“Are you drunk?” she asks.
“Buzzed,” I counter.
“So, drunk,” she clarifies.
“Not drunk enough to regret this.”
She squirms beneath me again, and I nip at her inner thigh but don’t move closer to her pussy. Not unless she gives me permission.
“One night only,” she whispers. “And we never speak of this again. Ever. Understand?”
“I hear you loud and clear, Brat.”
I spread her legs even wider and massage small circles along the divots between her thighs and underwear with my thumbs. She relaxes instantly. I haven’t been this interested in foreplay in a long time. In making a girl come. In rocking a girl’s world simply to prove I can. I blow softly against her center, testing how sensitive she is. Mia’s hands find the back of my head.
“Lick me.” She lifts her hips and pushes my face against her as if she’s already aching for my touch, and I revel in the power as I hook my thumb along the thin black lace and push it to the side. It’s too dark to see much beneath the covers, but the lack of light only heightens my senses. My curiosity. My desire. I slowly suck on her lips again, this time without the barrier of her thong, letting her scent wash over me and drive me insane.
And I am being driven insane.
Since the moment I heard her name. Since the moment I saw it on my class roster. Since the moment she poured my first drink at SeaBird and countless times after. This woman makes me crazy, and now, I want to do the same. I want to drive her wild. To make her unhinged. To make her come harder than ever. I nibble on her pussy, but I don’t dive in. Instead, I wait. For her desperation to take hold. Her need. A soft mewl echoes from the other side of the sheets, and her thighs tense with anticipation.
“So help me, Professor, if you don’t lick me––”
I lick at her center, swiping at her juices with the flat of my tongue.
“Yes, just like that,” she whimpers.
If you insist.
She’s already drenched and tastes like fucking heaven as I lick her again. Spreading her folds with my fingers, I kiss her deeper, dragging my tongue along her slit and dipping it inside her. Honey. She tastes like honey. Sweet. I find her clit and nibble it softly, grinding my dick against the mattress. I want to be inside her. Mark her. Claim her. Fuck her into oblivion. My self-restraint slips further and further from my grasp with every passing second as I eat her, shoving my hands beneath her and lifting her to my mouth.
“Fuck, Boss,” she rasps. “So good.”
Setting her ass back down, I slip my finger inside her. She’s velvety and smooth and so damn wet I can only imagine how good it would feel to have my cock inside her. To feel her squeezing it instead of my finger. I flick the tip of my tongue against her nub again, letting her juices soak my hand as she grinds against me.
“Really good.” Her grip tightens in my hair as her moans fill the air. She tugs at the roots and hooks her legs around my shoulders, anxious to come. To fall over the edge.