“Your pussy is giving me a resounding yes.” He focuses his stare between my legs. “That’s the most beautiful shade of pink in the world.”
His words light a fire inside me, the aching in my core incessantly demanding its needs be fulfilled.
“Mine now,” he rumbles without looking up. “Your pussy pleases me. Just like you will in so many ways, doc.”
My eyes roll back as he circles that sensitive spot until I see stars. The air feels thin as his face hovers over mine.
“So close. Please…” The inner drive for relief releases my grip on my last thread of control.
“Ah, see, you are pleasing me already. Good girls always say please.”
Heat licks at my belly, spreading over my flesh until I’m teetering on the edge.
“Lose control, firecracker. Right here in the front seat of my truck. With people right outside. Fill my hand.”
My mind and heart struggle against the tide when he moves his lips to my ear. “No one will ever touch you the way I do. From now on, baby, this pussy belongs to me.”
His words crack like a whip down low, and I’m in free fall, his lips burrowing into the hollow of my neck, exploding the nerve endings into fractured prickles of heat.
He’s a client, and we are in a truck with people just outside the window, but my body doesn’t care.
It wants to please this man, and as many times as I tell myself I should not be turned on, I am.
So. Turned. On.
This is crazy. Maybe the craziest thing I’ve done in my life.
But, there’s a voice inside me saying,let go.
And I do.
As I fall into the light, my muscles spasm and his fingers move to cup my sex, the base of his palm taking point on the exploding center of my pleasure while my orgasm crests. Heat and wetness spill out of me in waves as I turn into a sightless, boneless, brainless, out of control mess.
“That’s my girl. You just filled my hand. I’ve got all the answers I need.”
His eyes are feasting on me as he brings his soaking hand to his mouth, slowly licking his palm and every finger.
“That’s how a good girl tastes. My good girl.”
Chapter 11
King
Me:How’s my girl?
I shoot off another text, leaning against my locker, in my pads and pants, waiting for the equipment manager to finish sharpening my skates for today’s practice. The locker room smells like sweat and ten kinds of masculine bodywash.
In the past, locker rooms always smelled like home. But now, her scent tells me she’s my new home.
There’s talking and laughter all around me as the team dresses for practice, but every thought I have is ofher.
It’s been five hours and thirty-eight minutes since I walked into her office. It feels like a lifetime. Every minute my head is filled with her.
How soft her lips felt. The taste of our kiss. The way she said my name when she came. Her flavor on my fingers.
But, I’ve kept my vow, and it feels like living death.
Guilt ravages me for ruining her office. It was an impulsive move to light that handful of paper under the alarm sensor, but I’m a freight train barreling down the tracks when it comes to Emee Bristol.
