“Brina, I don’t want to talk about work. It’s almost New Year’s Eve. I don’t even want to think about it. If you like the mock-ups, then I know they’re stellar.” I pull her into my lap and shift our weight so we’re looking at the skyline. “Tonight, I’m enjoying that view with you. Then we’re going to spend the day together and ring in the new year with everything a little less shitty, you read me?”
She trembles in my grasp.
The effect I have on her only makes me want her more.
“Okay. Sounds nice,” she whispers shyly.
I turn her in my lap so her lips will be easier to reach. Then I cup her face with my hand, tilt her head back, and bring my lips to hers.
She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her body closer, teasing every bit of my skin where I can feel her.
Fuck.
The want firing in my brain makes me delirious.
Growling, I kiss her so hard her mouth opens, and I deepen the kiss, claiming her like I’ve always wanted with no doubts, no distractions, and no nerves. Her hands saunter from the nape of my neck upward, into my hair. Fingernails dig at my scalp, and I don’t mind.
My grip on her tightens, my pulse hammers, and I press her even closer to my chest, folding her around me, needing her right now like my lungs need air.
She wriggles in my hold, comes up on her knees, and straddles me. Through her panties and my sweats, raw heat tickles my shaft, teasing me with how wet she is.
She arches her back and presses down with force over the ridge in my pants.
I let out a sigh and pull myself together, remembering what she liked the night the phone call ripped us apart, the night she should’ve been mine.
A nuclear bomb isn’t tearing me off her tonight.
I ease my mouth away from hers to speak, even though it’s torture.
“I have to kiss you again,” I snarl.
Her eyes are wide. She nods.
Just like that, her lips are on mine again, sticky and sweet as a ripe strawberry. Her tongue digs at my mouth, matching my hunger, begging to be taken.
I’m so fucking happy to oblige.
In a rough jerk, I bolt away from her lips, trailing hot breath and frenzied kisses down her jawline. I taste every bit of her, exploring every nook and twist of her with my tongue.
“Mag,” she breathes.
“I love that sound.” I kiss the top of her neck where it meets her jawbone, and she shudders, grinding her hot pussy against my raging steel through the fabric.
“Sound?” she moans.
Yeah. That one. Right the hell there.
“Your voice when you say my name with need.” I kiss slightly lower then, making her arch, running my hands down her spine.
My lips attack her neck again, this time with raw hunger, with teeth, with a promise of everything I’ll do to her tonight.
I open my mouth and draw a small circle in the middle of her neck with my tongue.
“Oh. Ohhh.”
Every breathless murmur she makes is my reward.
I kiss down, down, down to where her neck meets her collarbone, massaging the delicate skin with my tongue, painting my lust on her flesh.
She grips my hair with her fingers and whimpers again.
“Magnus!”
Fuck.
I trace a hot, messy line from her collarbone to the top of her cleavage with kisses.
She presses her soft warmth into me again.
The clothes need to go, but I can’t fucking rush this.
Not when I already know I’m about to have the best sex of my life.
She brings a hand to the top button of her dress, like I need another reminder. Covering her hand with mine, I push it away from her clothes.
“But—”
I silence her by unclasping the first button and pressing my lips to the skin underneath. My fingers trail down, popping the next button open. She moans when my fingertips brush the hint of skin slowly being revealed.
One. Two. Three more buttons and I’m staring at a pale blue lace bra.
I stop, awestruck and staring at the perfect mounds encased in baby blue.
“Um, why’d you stop?” she whispers.
“A dilemma. I can’t decide if I should keep going with the buttons so I can splay this dress open and worship your body. Or if I should slip my hands behind your back, destroy that piece of lace, and devour you.”
With a sinful smile, she decides for me.
Her hands slip from my head to behind my neck, and she brings my head to her breast. I kiss and lick just outside the lace, enjoying the way she writhes, grinding against me harder.
My hands slip behind her back to undo the bra clasp. I work the straps down her soft arms one by one, and when my tongue flicks across the hard point of her nipple, she groans real sweet for me.
Covering one breast with my hand, I gently caress it with my pinched fingers, and the other with my mouth. Her breaths fall hard and ragged, urging me to lick, to suck, to please until she comes undone.
Goddamn.
I’ve wanted this ever since that first day she was in the office. I can’t fathom how I held out this long. I slide my hand down to open the next button and use my mouth to massage where it just left off.
“Are you—umm—will you—” She sucks in a breath. “Are you going to make love to me tonight?”
I trace her nipple with my tongue—what’s supposed to be one last time but winds up being more because it’s that addictive. Then I pull away from her.
“No, sweet girl,” I say, loving how she blinks in surprise. “What I’m about to do doesn’t fall under something as gentle as ’making love.’”
“I want you.” Her voice is tortured, her eyes lidded, heat flowing through her and pouring out her eyes.
There’s my Brina, always to the point.
I move my hand down to the next button and caress newly exposed skin. Then with my lips near her ear, I whisper, “You know something? You’re going to want it a lot more before we get there.”
A husky laugh falls out of her, so sweet it makes my balls ache.
I can’t help but kiss her lips again, an animal hunger in my blood.
She brushes my bottom lip with her tongue, and soon we’re lost in another long, winding kiss. My cock wants me to rip her clothes off, haul her to bed, and sink into her balls deep this very second. But another part of me wants to stay right here.
Arms locked around each other, tongues tangled, so close I can feel her pulse.
My fingers trail down on a mission.
One.
Two.
Three more buttons, and I’m done.
Bringing both hands to her shoulders, I slide the dress away from her body.
Finally, I give in, pick her up, and carry her to bed where I lay her down gently in a splash of sighs and tossed hair.
Instead of climbing in with her, I’m stricken, staring, soaking in the fresh creamy skin giving my bed a new soul.
Damn it all.
Her body seems so tense her abs move when she breathes, waiting for me, fully open to every wicked thought in my mind.
“You coming?” she whispers, her bottom lip quivering.
I wish she knew how fucking close I am.
Still standing beside the bed, I reach over, hooking a finger under the lace of her waistband. She covers my finger with her hand.
“They match,” I say darkly, my throat scorched with desire.
“What?”
“Your panties. They match your bra. I thought it was worth noting before they’re gone.” My hooked finger moves, pulling that lacey waistband down, but the hand that covers my finger stops me with a firm grip.