His free hand traced down my belly, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my pants. He stopped. Looked up at me with a question.
“Please,” I said.
“Please what? I want to hear you say it.” His finger stroked above my waistband, dipping lower with each pass. “Tell me what you want, Laina.”
“I want you to touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“You know what I mean.”
His smile was wicked. “Say it anyway.”
“I want—” I lost the words when his hand slid lower, cupping me through my pants. The pressure was exactly what I needed and nowhere near enough. “That. I want that.”
“This?” He pressed harder, and I arched into his palm.
“Yes.”
“May I remove these?” His fingers found the button of my pants.
“If you don’t, I’m going to do it myself.”
He laughed, popping the button and sliding the zipper down. “Efficiency. I appreciate that in a partner.”
I lifted my hips, and he tugged my pants down, taking my underwear with them. The conference table was cold against my bare skin before he slid his hands under my backside, warming me.
“Look at you,” he said softly, crouching between my legs, spreading my thighs wide.
I was completely exposed on the conference table where we were supposed to be reviewing adoption applications.
I didn’t care.
He brought his face level with my hips, and hooked my legs over his broad shoulders.
“If I do something you don’t like, tell me,” he said. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Good.” He kissed my inner thigh. Then kissed higher. “Because I plan to do several things, and I need to know which ones to repeat.”
His mouth found me, and I stopped thinking in complete sentences.
He started slow, his long, thick tongue tracing patterns that made my legs shake. Those ridges… They dragged across my skin, making everything inside me quiver.
One of his fingers traced my entrance, testing.
“Please,” I said again, because that appeared to be my only word now.
He slid one finger inside while his tongue circled my clit, making stars burst behind my eyelids. He added another finger,stretching me, gliding them in and out, finding a spot that made me arch my back off the table.
“There?” he asked, voice muffled.
“There. Right there. Don’t stop.”
His fingers moved in a steady rhythm while his mouth did things that should be illegal. The pressure built, tight and sweet and relentless.
His other hand reached up, finding my breast, circling my nipple, and that was all it took.
