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So the bedrooms were twice the size as they used to be. It was useless space, of course, since there was no reason to have so much space around the king-sized bed, but Elias was going for impressive, not practical.
"See? It works," I told him, waving toward the bed.
I was seriously considering doing something similar in my own bedroom, I liked the finished product so much.
Maybe I'd do less black.
Though, I had to admit, the all black bedding and the black tufted headboard gave the space a sleek, sexy, upscale look.
I wanted to fall into it and sleep for a week.
I'd earned it for dealing with Elias Kole for so long.
"Hm," he said, walking over toward the bed, grabbing the top of the headboard, trying to jiggle it.
"It doesn't give," I told him. "It's screwed to the wall," I added.
"The wood would work as well," he insisted.
"No, it wouldn't."
"And why is that?"
"Because wood is impractical. It scratches and gouges and loses its sheen. It shows its wear quickly. And that is the last thing you want your guests to see."
"I imagine you are worried the wood might... break," he said, making my brows pinch.
"Break? No. I don't imagine you will have many guests trying to break your headboards in half."
"Not trying to break the headboards, no," he agreed.
"Then I don't know what you mean," I said, shaking my hand.
"Want me to show you?" he asked, turning slightly to look down at me. "Miss Welch?" he added, tone going even more silky than usual.
An actual shiver moved through me at the sound.
And not one of the internal ones.
Oh, no.
Nope.
It was one of those out-and-proud, no mistaking it ones.
And this bastard had obsessive attention to detail; He never missed a thing.
He saw it.
And I swear a strange rumbling noise moved through his chest in response.
"Show me what, Mr. Kole?" I asked, when I damn well knew the smart move was to turn and walk a few feet away, get out of the bedroom as a whole.
Nothing good could come of me and Elias Kole in a room with a bed.
Not when my body had all sorts of ideas that my head was starting to think might not be completely terrible.
I mean, if a man could bring shivers with a voice, imagine what he could do with his tongue? With his cock?
"Show you why you might be right after all," he clarified, the look in those eyes of his making my stomach wobble.
"I am always interested in being proven right," I told him, taking a deep breath, feeling it shake on my exhale as he moved a step closer still, his body brushing me he was so close.
"Yeah?" he asked, ducking his head a bit.
"Yes," I agreed, putting down the notebooks I'd been carrying.
I don't know what I expected.
I guess for his lips to land on mine.
But when his head lowered, his lips pressed into the slope of my neck where it met my shoulder.
It shouldn't have been as hot.
And it wasn't.
It was hotter.
I could feel the scrape of his teeth, the tip of his tongue.
His hands were impatient, reaching down to snag the hem of my dress, dragging it upward inch by delicious inch, his fingertips brushing the sides of my thighs as he went.
I went from interested to dripping wet in ten seconds time.
My hands rose, slipping his jacket button free, then reaching up to push the material free.
His hands left my skirt just long enough to remove the jacket completely, then moved back, yanking the tight skirt up around my waist.
His hand was between my thighs before I could even draw in a breath, his fingers pressing against the material between my things, finding and rubbing over my clit.
"Fucking drenched," he growled, finger sliding under the material of my panties to trace up my cleft, working over my clit without the barrier for a long moment. Until my breath was heaving, my heartbeat slamming, my little mewling noises became ragged moans.
On a growl, his hand moved up, grabbing my panties in his hand, pulling until I heard a rip, a sound that sent a white-hot stab of desire through my core.
There was no time to process the pure, raw, animal heat I felt at having him literally rip off the only barrier keeping him from the most private part of me.
Because the next second, his hands were grabbing my hips, lifting, then tossing me onto the bed.
I landed somewhere in the middle. And when Elias moved to the foot of the bed, his hands snagged my ankles, dragged me down toward him as he lowered, his tongue tracing up my cleft, circling around my clit.
My hands slapped down on the back of his head, holding him against me as he licked and sucked, driving me up hard and fast, having absolutely no intention to draw it out, make me beg, just taking me to that edge, before thrusting two fingers inside me, fingers curling, raking over my G-spot, then pushing me right over that edge, sending me crashing down into a screaming orgasm, making me leg-lock him in place as the waves crashed.
