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I’m into that.
I’m slick and wet and I moan at the feel of him inside me, moving in and out. I come almost immediately, which is very nearly embarrassing. My pussy flutters around his cock, tightening and spasming beyond my control. He grins, then pumps into me harder, sliding deeper and deeper as he thrusts into me.
“That’s one. You wanted to feel me all week, right?” he reminds me with a wicked grin.
Oh, right. That.
Pre-orgasm me cannot be trusted with making threats.
He fucks me harder, not stopping, and I remember that pre-orgasm Audrey gave him a blow job, which probably means he can hold on now for a good long time and between that and his work ethic I’m not sure if pre-orgasm Audrey is a genius or a monster. Then, suddenly, there’s his thumb again, doing those damn circles that—oh, oh, oh!
The threat of a second orgasm rises, harder and sharper than the first one somehow. I want to wriggle away, like it’s somehow too much, but oh—oh… No, it’s impossible that it’s too much. I need more, need him to—
“Don’t stop,” I pant. I’m still pinned in this position he’s got me in and all I can do is arch my back and take what he gives me and—“Oh, God, don’t—”
I scream his name now, surprised at the sound of my own voice as the second orgasm tears through me. I’ve never come like that, not one right after the other, and my body’s not ready. It’s not prepared. It doesn’t know where to put these feelings or how to deal with these sensations, and it’s like every piece of me is standing on end.
Warren lets himself go at the tail end of my orgasm. His body shakes as he comes, and he grips my ass to hold us both in place as he gives in to the release. I force myself to focus, to see the look of pleasure that seizes him as he climaxes inside of me.
Because I did that.
Well, us. But a lot me.
And I fucking love it.
“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he says, rolling us so he’s on his back, me splayed top of him. “Do you know that?”
This man is trying to kill me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next morning, feeling extremely satisfied, I head right into work. Warren left early, for some important state thing, I assume. I mean I assume it’s important. Then again, I suppose lots of state business is fairly dull and not at all important so who knows really. The point is, he left early. Which is fine, because I’m definitely still feeling last night. In a very happy kind of way. I’m basically humming just thinking about the things his hands did. The things his tongue did. The things—
Okay, I need to focus. I can’t be thinking sex thoughts about Warren all day while I’m trying to work. I’m liable to slice something I shouldn’t with a rotary cutter. Like vintage silk. Or my finger.
I’ve got stuff to do. For one thing, I’ve got all of the new materials to sort and start to design with. I’ll also need to be on the lookout for a call from Mrs McGinn. This is such a huge opportunity, and there’s no way I can fumble this. I need to home-run that football when it gets to me.
I’m dragging in three bags of clothing when I spot Miller sniffing some flowers and opening a card. How adorable. I freaking love how today’s youth aren’t confined by strict gender roles.
“Ohhh.” I grin at Miller, preparing to tease him mercilessly. “Did your girlfriend send flowers to smash the patriarchy?”
“Nope.” Miller rolls his eyes—at my enthusiasm, I think. Hard to tell. “They’re from your boyfriend. Oh, this is very sweet.”
I blush. Holy crap, flowers? This is promising, right? Ugh, why am I such a mess? Because even though yesterday was amazing and last night was even better, there’s a chance that the day was a friend thing and the after was just a fuck-buddy thing. I might be projecting a relationship onto something that’s simply chemistry and convenience.
How can I be so sure of something one day and so not sure of it the next? It would be easier if we just talked about this like adults, but that would require me to put myself out there by asking him.
That sounds awful, obviously.
Tiptoeing around the issue until it resolves itself seems far preferable. It’ll work itself out, right? If I hold out long enough, eventually he’ll either break up with me or propose.
Fine, whatever. He’ll probably want to talk about it before either of those events occurs. But I can wait for him to bring it up. Like I’m not about to call dibs on talking about my feelings.
In any case, whatever we are, we’re definitely not official, and I can’t have Miller saying the word “boyfriend.” Big no.
