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I start to pant as his mouth takes what it needs from
my open body and I convulse into an orgasm. He closes his eyes and groans into me and I grab the back of his head in reaction.
“Stop,” I stammer, “stop it.” I’m too sensitive.
“Never,” he growls into me, “I will never stop.” He seemingly loses control and picks up my legs and puts them over his shoulders as he really lets his tongue loose. I’m going insane and he gently bites my clitoris and stretches me out to his mouth. Dear god … he’s so damn good at this. My body starts to move by itself and I have lost the art of being submissive. I want this, I want his tongue on me … inside of me. I am moving up and down the mattress as he inserts two fingers and I lurch forward as I climax again. He keeps my legs over his shoulders and leans forward and plunges his large length into me deeply. He stays deep and still, his eyes close as he tries to calm himself and when they reopen I shudder in anticipation, beautiful gentle Joshua has gone and Mr Stanton is on top of me. His mouth hangs slack and his eyes are dark with arousal as he holds himself off my body with straightened arms, his open mouth starts to run the length of my neck and he starts to ride me … hard. Long punishing strokes where I know he will take me how he wants, as deep as he wants to and I can do nothing but hold on and pant.
Joshua Stanton was born to fuck, not to make gentle love, although he does that perfectly, he was designed to take a woman and rip the orgasm from her body and damn the consequences or anyone who tries to stop him. It’s when he’s like this, when he has no control and he can’t stop, that he’s at his unstoppable best.
Tonight I am the luckiest girl in the world.
Chapter 24
I sit and stare at the computer monitor in horror. What in the hell is wrong with my emails? Where have they all gone? It’s Monday 11.00 am and I am at work. Joshua and I didn’t spend the day together yesterday but he ended up coming over last night. I didn’t ask him where he was on Saturday night, although the question is weighing heavily on my mind. All of these questions between us and yet I feel that he is cemented to me and that he’s in love with me … without actually saying the words. He didn’t let me go all night and when he thought I was asleep I could feel him gently kissing my shoulder from behind in the darkness. He now sleeps all night with a hand somewhere on me , as if he is only reassured when we are touching. What’s going through that pea brain of his? At the moment though I have more pressing issues, I’m trying to pull a client file from my emails that was sent to me last week. Where the frigging hell is it?
All of my emails seem to have disappeared and my send and receive isn’t working.
Emma, my colleague, walks into my office. “Natasha, I have just forwarded you an email that came to my inbox by mistake.”
I frown as I flag a problem with our computer tech team. “Thanks, what is it?” I ask.
“Not sure—an email addressed to me but the subject line says please forward to Natasha Marx .”
My eyes look up from my computer. That’s odd. “What does it say?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Check it out. It should be in your inbox.”
I roll my eyes. “My computer is totally shit and I can’t access anything. Can I open it on yours?”
“Yeah, sure.” I move back from my desk and she leans over me and opens her email on my computer. “I have to go. I have an appointment. Do you want to have lunch?”
“Yeah, ok, if I can find this file I will. Otherwise I’m in big trouble,” I mutter as I open the email addressed to me. Emma leaves the room.
I frown as I look at the email. Is it from Josh? No, the sender says blocked … weird? I click on the attachment. It’s a rolling picture and then it goes black. Huh? I sit forward and play it again … it doesn’t make sense. I play it again … I can’t make out anything. Josh must have sent me something. I smile and dial his number.
“Hi presh,” he answers.
I smile. “Hi baby, can you send the email again. I can’t make out the picture.”
He stays silent.
“Did you hear me? I can’t open the attachment.” I sigh as I doodle on my notepad.
“Ahh … Yeah, ok. What email did I send it to?” he replies.
I frown. “It went to my work friend’s email by mistake and she gave it to me.”
He stays silent.
“So anyway just resend it, ok.” I repeat as I start ratting through my filing cabinet. “My email system has totally stuffed up and I’m in trouble if I can’t access this next client file,” I murmur.
He stays silent for a moment as he listens. “Do you want to have lunch today?” he sighs.
I smile. “Definitely, hey did you see if I left my phone at home this morning? I can’t find it anywhere,” I ask.
“No, I didn’t notice,” he replies. “What time is your break?”
“One-thirty.”
