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I take his hand and guide it closer to me, placing his finger on my clit. He chuckles, his lips pressing against mine as he teases me.
“I love how fucking worked up you are,” he whispers in my ear as he draws circles around my clit. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re nearly coming on my hand.”
I groan, tilting my head back, my hand still wrapped around his wrist as he slides his finger inside me. It feels incredible. My back arches as I press his hand against me and rock my hips back and forth.
“Oh God,” I whimper. I gasp, my breath catching in my throat as I come hard, all the tension in my body releasing in one glorious hit. My whole body spasms as I writhe from side to side, riding his hand like I’m at a freaking rodeo.
“Hell, yes,” I groan as another orgasm kicks in. He chuckles, his lips connecting to mine as he fingers me. I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, grinding my hips against his hand until I can’t take it anymore.
I push him away, my swollen, aching clit begging for mercy. I laugh, because the relief is incredible. Sighing, I fall back onto the desk, my heart racing. After weeks of buildup, I’d finally climaxed and it felt incredible. I laugh, unable to wipe the smile off my face as I think back to the hotel room. I should’ve saved myself some trouble and seduced him then.
He smirks at me, looking proud of himself.
“I told you there were plenty of things I’m good at,” he grins.
“You definitely have some talent,” I concede. “That was…”
My voice trails off and I sigh contentedly.
He tilts my face up until my lips are on his.
“Incredible? The greatest moment of your life?” he teases.
I laugh. “Well, yes, it felt like it, but not because of you,” I say.
“Ouch.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, I mean it was a long time coming,” I say. “Literally.”
“I’ve heard that about you,” he grins.
“Shut up,” I giggle, swatting him on the shoulder.
I sigh, losing myself in his touch, sure that nothing can ruin this moment.
Except my mother’s voice.
“Hannah. Are you there? Is this some kind of joke?”
I hit panic mode. My eyes dart everywhere, as I wrestle myself out of Brix’s arms, while he looks at me like I’m crazy. How the heck did she find me here, of all places? But she’s not here. I’ve fricking pocket dialed her at the worst possible moment. I frantically fish my phone out of the pocket in my skirt and sure enough, Mom’s name is on the screen. I check the call duration.
Three minutes.
God, I’ll die if she heard anything.
Brix starts laughing when it clicks what’s going on. I glare at him, silently willing him to be quiet.
“Mom,” I say, my voice high-pitched. I take a deep breath, knowing she’s like a shark. She can smell fear. “I can’t really talk right now—”
“What? You called me,” she replies testily. “You can’t tell me after five minutes of heavy panting that you don’t have time to talk to me?”
Heavy panting?
I stare, wide eyed at Brix, who has to walk away before he loses it.
“Fine.” I grumble. The moment is ruined now, anyway. “How are you?”
“Oh, aside from my usual gout? It’s just this arthritis,” Mom complains. “It’s killing me. But even worse is the side effect of the meds. It’s given me a rash all over my breasts, right down to my...”
I cringe and hold the phone away from my ear, avoiding looking at Brix. Why does she have to talk so loudly? Forget speakerphone. You could be on the other side of the room and still make out what she’s saying.
“Are you bringing your boyfriend here to meet me, or do I have to come down there?”
Shit.
Brix raises his eyebrows, I turn around slightly, just enough to block him out.
“What?” I laugh nervously. “Mom, I can’t talk about this right now,” I say.
“Is it because you’re ashamed of your family?” she asks. “You don’t want your Hollywood boyfriend knowing the cheap life we lead?”
“What?” I protest.
How could she know about Brix before there’s anything to even know? I sigh. It had to be Sara or Soph snooping through my things and jumping to conclusions.
“Mom, I have to go,” I say, ending the call before she can object. I put the phone away, while he steps closer to me.
“Boyfriend?” he murmurs.
“Totally your fault,” I retort.
“She’s still going on about the boyfriend thing?” he chuckles. “Maybe I can find a way to make it up to you?” he suggests, his fingers moving down my arm.
“Like what?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“How about my autograph?”
“How about you shut up?” I retort, smiling at him.
He laughs, his fingers drawing circles on my face. “I’m kidding. I was thinking we could pick up where we left off.”
