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“Tell me you’re sexy,” he growls.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
He takes another step forward, bringing his possessive hand to my thigh and squeezing down. I whimper and almost drop the duster, as he grips even harder, sinking his powerful hand into my flesh.
“Tell me, Rosie,” he snaps. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the goddamn truth,” he snarls.
“I’m sexy,” I say, quietly, as he inches his powerful grip further and further up my thigh.
“Say it like you mean it,” he grunts.
“I’m sexy, Ryland,” I moan.
Higher and higher, he moves his hand until he’s barely inches away from my sex, still sensitive from where he ground my panties against it earlier. And yet it throbs with neediness, begging for him to move up the rest of the way, to push against me with searing flesh-on-flesh contact.
“If you don’t start putting some fucking passion into it,” he growls, “I might have to spank you until you can’t sit down for a week. Now—say it.”
“I’m sexy,” I moan, voice shivering as his finger brushes along my lips, sending tempting tingling to my clit. “I’m sexy. Oh, that feels good.”
“You’re soaked,” he breathes. “You’re drenched. Have you ever been this excited before, Rosie?”
“Never,” I moan. “It feels so good.”
“I need to taste you,” he snarls.
I cry out in shock when he loops his arm around my waist, lifting me off my feet as though I weigh nothing.
I’ve never been held like this before. I feel like I’m flying.
“I’ve dropped the duster,” I giggle as he carries me across the marble floor, his shoes making clicking noises against the surface.
“Don’t worry about the damn duster,” he laughs savagely. “You’re still my horny maid. Don’t worry about that. But right now I’ve got a more important job for you.”
He lays me down on a table and looms over me, his clean shaven jaw tight as he glares down at me with savagery in his eyes.
“What?” I whimper.
“Cream for me,” he snarls. “I need to taste your come, Rosie. I just know it’s going to be as juicy and perfect as you are.”
I moan as he falls to his knees, sliding his hands from my ankles, up my calves, and over my thighs.
Sensations dance up my skin toward my sex, my clit singing a song of need even after the pleasure that rioted through me so recently.
He pulls me down the table and brings his face close to my sex, his warm breath whispering over my lips and my hole.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I can smell how wet you are.”
“Is it bad?” I murmur.
“You smell incredible,” he snarls. “I bet you taste the same.”
I stare down between my thighs, his silver hair dancing in the lamplight. His shoulders are like boulders barely contained within the prison of his steel-colored suit.
I bite down when he brings his tongue to the edge of my hole, skirting it teasingly.
He moves the tip of his tongue around and around, making my hole get wetter and warmer each second.
I let out an insistent moan. I don’t even mean to.
It’s like my womb sends the signal up through my body, screaming at me to make him touch my clit, to make him gift me more soul-searing pleasure.
He chuckles deeply, removing his tongue for a moment.
“You’re an eager thing, aren’t you? And don’t you fucking dare say sorry, Rosie. It’s not a bad thing. I love how horny you are.”
Love.
The word blazes a trail across my mind, leaving a shivering mass of want and need in its wake.
Even if I know it’s silly – even if I don’t know this man, and love should be the furthest thing from my mind – I can’t help but clasp the word close to me.
He sinks his fingers deeper into the flesh of my thighs, dragging his tongue from my hole up to my lips, toward my clit, pressing with so much firmness I can’t stop my thighs from juddering and wriggling, the blooming pleasure sending rhythms of desire through me.
I let out a cry when he finally brings the scorching tip of his tongue to my clit, swirling it around in captivating circles.
I bite down instinctively, killing the noise.
“If you want to scream,” Ryland growls, “fucking scream. Nobody can hear us. Your mother and her nurse’s room is on the other side of the estate.”
“It’s not that,” I moan, as his warm breath paints my sensitive sex.
“What, then?”
“I don’t want to make a fool of myself,” I whisper.
“This again?” he snarls. “You’re not making a fool of yourself, Rosie. You’re sexy. You’re captivating. You’re everything a man could ever desire in a woman. Now be a good little minx and squirt all over my mouth.”
He slides his hands further down my hips, grabbing my ass cheeks and pulling me even closer to him.
I throw my head back and let out a shivering cry. His tongue burns against my clit, licking slowly at first, and then faster and faster until I feel as though the table is going to collapse beneath me.
