Page 103 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Work.” I pouted a little.

“Best job I’ve ever had,” he laughed softly. “Now, you should also be able to pick up on the sensuality of the fragrance. The sweetness is balanced with deeper, almost smoky undertones of amber and musk.” His voice was lower now. “Those are a reminder of us making love. The heat of our bodies entwined.”

Vincent planted a kiss on my shoulder, and my breathing went shallow, because I could almost see what he was describing.

“Perpetual mixes the bright and the sensual together. Like all perfumes, in order to fully enjoy it, the wearer should place it on pulse points, where the blood rushes close to the surface and warms the skin. So, always apply it to the wrist,” he slid his fingers around my wrist and held it like a handcuff. “And the neck…” he leaned in to inhale close to my nape, and I felt my body move closer to him as I waited for the inevitable kiss.

But he kept me waiting, dangling the sweet relief I was craving just out of my reach. We were frozen, Vincent hovering just centimeters away from me, drinking me in. My entire body felt shaky. I was lightheaded and desperate for him.

But I waited in the moment with him, enjoying the sweet torture of wanting him.

“Piper,” he murmured as he tilted my head toward his. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I will never stop telling you that.”

The warmth in his eyes as he said it melted any of my remaining reserve of strength. I finally pushed closer and kissed him so hard and fast that he made a shocked grunt.

Catching his scent nearly made me cry. I’d missed the warm, woody spice that emanated from his skin.

I climbed on top of him, never breaking off the kiss. How was it possible that kissing him was even better than I remembered? The old t-shirt dress I was wearing that was too ratty to see the light of day rose up my thighs as our mouths crashed together, and Vincent’s hands immediately found my bare skin.

“Piper,” he whispered feverishly as he gripped my ass. “My Piper.”

I pawed at the buttons on his shirt, desperate to touch him. My fingers were clumsy, but I managed to rip them open, and I splayed the fabric wide so I could kiss the strong lines of his chest. When my mouth strayed to suck on his nipple, he groaned and arched his back.

“I need you,” he growled. “Now.”

His kisses became more demanding, speeding down my throat as he gripped the frayed collar of my t-shirt dress in his fist.

“Take this off,” he demanded, giving my dress a frustrated tug. “I want to see all of you.”

I glanced over my shoulder to the front door. Darcy wasn’t due back for at least an hour, and while there was a chance she could show up early, it was a risk I was willing to take. I stripped my dress over my head and threw it on the ground, leaving me in just my thong.

Vincent let out a strangled sigh before his fingertips began tracing a slow, torturous path down my body. From the hollow between my breasts to the curve of my stomach, his touch was reverent, worshipful. When his hand finally cupped the heat between my legs, his voice was low, rough. “You have no idea what this body does to me.”

His hardness pushing up between my legs gave me a clue.

I leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “Show me.”

Vincent clasped the back of my neck and tugged me closer, pulling me into a kiss so deep it made my knees weak. He kissed me like a starving man who had found the one thing that could satisfy him. Somehow, between the heat of our mouths and the chaos of hands and bodies, I found myself beneath him, our bodies tangled together in a frenzy of need.

But just when I thought I might drown in kisses, he pulled away, lips trailing lower—down my neck, across my collarbone, and further south, leaving a trail of fire wherever his lips touched.

“Hold on,” I placed my hand on his back to stop him before he hit the moment when stopping him would become inconceivable. “I want to taste you too.”

Vincent paused at my hipbone, looking back at me with a devilish grin. “We can make that happen for both of us, you know.”

He stood up and quickly peeled off his clothing, then moved so that he was on his side on the couch next to me with his head near my feet. It was playful at first as we adjusted, the lightness of the moment making the intimacy that much sweeter.

And then it changed.

The laughter melted into something deeper as I felt the first hot press of his mouth against my slick seam, and a low moan escaped my lips, unbidden. At the same time, I ran my tongue along the length of him, tasting him, feeling the weight of him in my mouth.

It was impossible to focus on the rhythm of drawing his cock in and out of my mouth while he was tonguing my clit so expertly. I kept needing to pause, so I could focus on the delicious sensations flooding my body as he made love to me with his mouth. It was a strange and incredible dance between pleasure and connecting, between giving and taking.

I kept my hand clasped around his dick, gripping tightly as I edged closer and closer to what was going to be a mind-blowing orgasm. Vincent knew how to work my body like a maestro, licking me gently then building up the pressure as his tongue pushed into me.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the world fractured into light and heat. My body arched, the pleasure surging through me in bright, electric pulses I couldn’t contain. I cried out, my fingers curling into Vincent’s skin, desperate for something to hold onto as I shattered apart.

He didn’t let up, his mouth and hands moving with the same focused intensity, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until I was trembling, my breaths coming in ragged bursts. It was too much, too perfect, and I finally had to push him away, my body spent and aching in the best possible way.