Page 101 of People Skills

He steers us to the couch, and he lowers me down onto it, and now I can feel the weight and heat of his body, and my heart is racing, and he is kissing me more deeply, more urgently, his hand running down my side, slipping under my dress and along my bare thigh. It’s wild and messy, like he’s a dying man and my mouth is the only thing that can save him. His tongue is in my mouth, mine in his, our bodies pushing together, like we only have this moment and maybe nothing else. The kissing is making me breathless, it’s making all thoughts of tonight’s dramas slip away. There’s just Xavier, there’s just Xavier’s mouth on mine, there’s just the two of us in this room, there’s just this moment.

I should stop.

I should pull away from his mouth, his beautiful mouth, his mouth that is right now moving down my neck, his tongue that touches the hollow above my collarbone, his body that is pressing into mine with urgency—everything about him, his size, his smell, the feel of his skin, how hard he is, everything, is driving me crazy.

I can’t stop.

His mouth is on mine again, and then on my neck again.

‘Wait,’ I say, lifting his face. ‘People will see if you leave a mark.’ By people, I mean Hillary but saying her name will ruin the mood.

‘Where can I leave a mark then?’

‘Somewhere lower.’

‘How low can I go?’

‘As low as you want.’

‘Really?’ he murmurs.

‘Mmmm.’

‘Is here okay?’ he asks, running a finger in a soft circle on my chest and then kissing the same spot.

‘Yes.’

‘What about here?’ His mouth goes deeper, further down the V of my neckline, into my cleavage. I bite back a noise in my throat.

‘There is good. Everywhere is good.’

‘Everywhere everywhere?’

‘I want you to make me stop thinking.’

‘I can do that.’

He reaches his hands behind my neck, finding the zip of my dress. I lean forward, letting him. He slowly unzips it all the way down, and then expertly undoes my bra, and slides them both off me, carefully pulling the bra straps over my shoulders, slipping my arms out of the dress sleeves. I lift my hips as he slides the dress all the way off me and lets it fall to the floor. He pauses, looking down at me in a way that makes my skin tingle, before gently running his hands all over me, then his mouth sucking, licking, his tongue making hot circles around my nipple, around and around, and I am writhing beneath him, feeling like I might come already, I’m so close, just from this. He pauses, yanking off his shirt, and, oh, the feeling of our bare skin together. I close my eyes and press my lips to his neck, breathing him in, our legs tangled together. God, I want him. I don’t let any other feeling in except that.

I want him.

His mouth slides down, to my nipples again, my stomach, his tongue pushing into my belly button, and everything is making me moan, and I feel like it doesn’t matter, I am just a body floating in space, wanting pleasure, limitless pleasure. I am not an assistant, I am not putting on my best face, I am not doing anything for anyone, I am having things done to me.

He has moved to my thighs, kissing up and down.

‘Your perfect legs,’ he says, and then he moves higher, both of us groaning as he presses his mouth into me. I can feel how wet I am.

He tugs off my underwear, and gently runs a finger over me, and my moans intensify.

‘Make me come,’ I say, which feels outrageous to demand, but I don’t care, I am just a body, wanting, wanting, wanting.

He gives a kind of dual laugh and moan. ‘Oh god,’ he says, and his finger slips inside me.

‘You’re so…’ he says, but he doesn’t finish the thought, and then he slowly, slowly, agonisingly, wonderfully slowly, slides his finger out and lowers his mouth onto me, harder, softer, firmer, and it’s warm and wonderful and I come, delicious, hard, deep.

‘Keep going,’ I gasp, because as soon as it finishes, I am already about to come again.

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