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ide open the door, and toss them inside. Kayla’s probably in my bed by now. Naked. My cock throbs at the mental image. I fucking loved taking her up against the suite wall. But the thought of her slipping between my sheets stirs something primitive inside me.
She’s mine.
I hear what sounds like my fridge door opening. My brow furrows. Did my brain misfire? I expected to hear her pants flying across my kitchen, maybe landing in the kitchen sink. When she said she wanted me, I went with the literal translation of I want to fuck you now. On your bed, while enacting the scenes from my wildest fantasies playbook seeing as we just finished your number one turn-on.
Okay, maybe I’m reading too much into her “I want you” statement. Maybe she meant: I want to have wild, crazy sex in your bed, but first I need a snack.
I’ll admit I like my first interpretation better. Either way, I’m going to find out. I follow her and spot her bra on the kitchen floor. That’s a good sign. I slip my fingers under the waistband of my boxers and strip them off. Once my underwear lies beside hers, I head down the hallway.
When I reach the doorway to my room, I freeze. Not a smooth, stop and lean against the entryway. Oh, hell no. I stumble and nearly hit the floor at the sight of Kayla sitting on the edge of my king-size bed. Surrounded by the crisp white bedding, she looks petite. She’s crossed her legs in a prim and proper pose and her hands rest in her lap. With her long hair tossed behind her shoulders, her bare breasts are in full view.
And there’s a bottle of chilled champagne at her feet.
I recover my balance and rest one shoulder against the door jam. I stop myself before I cross my arms in front of my chest. Her gaze flits to my abs as if she wants to lick a path down my body, testing the shape of my muscles with her tongue. Yeah, I’m reading a little too much into her hungry gaze. But she has a thing for my abs.
“You look like you’re ready for a very naughty business meeting,” I say.
“Do you drink at the office?” she asks, reaching for the bottle. She deftly strips off the foil.
“As a rule? No.” I fight to keep my voice level. Watching her fingers work the cork, pressing it back and forth as she tries to free it from the bottle, leaves my dick aching to feel her touch. “But I also wear clothes to conduct business.”
“Then this isn’t a meeting.” She uncrosses her legs, resting both feet on the rug. I can see the dark curls between her legs. While my imagination fast-forwards to my face buried between her thighs, licking her until she comes, I step into the room, pulling the door closed behind me.
“No,” I say, taking another step forward. “If you worked for me, I couldn’t feel you come against my mouth.”
“We’ll get to that.” She grins as if she knows she’s playing with fire … and she likes it. She nods toward the brown leather chair in the corner of my bedroom. “Sit down.”
There’s no internal debate. I’m not interested in playing the dominant right now. I’m ready and willing to follow her instructions. “You have a plan?”
The cork punctuates my question with a pop. The dogs bark at the sound, and I’m damn glad I closed the door. I can hear them running through the hall, searching for the invasion.
“I have an idea,” she says, ignoring her pups. Luna’s cone bumps against the walls as they retreat to the living room.
“Something I’ve never tried before,” she continues.
Another virgin territory. I fucking love that I’m her first. I don’t have a clue what we’re doing, but she can pour the champagne over us while we fuck for all I care. If it turns her on, I’m game. Especially if it’s something she’s never shared with anyone else.
“You can try anything with me,” I say.
“I know.”
I hear the hint of wonder in her tone. How many hidden fantasies does she have? And how the hell did she survive five years of marriage without ever exploring what turned her on?
I push that second question aside. I’m not bringing her ex into my bedroom. Or any other guy she’s slept with in the past.
She’s mine.
“So what’s on the menu?” There’s a rough edge to my voice. I’m so fucking hard right now. I wrap my right hand around my cock and give myself a stroke up to the tip. If I don’t take a little action, I’ll reach for her. And I can’t ruin her plan. Bondage, roll play, spanking—I’m ready and willing to indulge her kinks.
She stands, carrying the open bottle of bubbly in one hand. “For the appetizer coarse, I thought we’d start with a blow job.”
“If you insist.”
“Then for the main course, I plan to fuck your brains out.”
“That’s a dirty word,” I say.
“We don’t have many secrets between us.” She stops in front of me and places her free hand on my bare thigh. Gently, she guides my legs apart and lowers herself between them. “Does it surprise you that I like dirty words when they fit the situation?”
