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She looks up, nodding. In a fraction of a second, I pull her up to me, so she's sitting in my lap.
"I didn't mean to be so rough," I say, "but you made me lose control."
"I like it when you're rough," she replies.
"You're driving me crazy, Victoria." Without another word, I kiss her, deep and hungry. Pushing her dress up to her waist, I yank her closer, and her bare center slides against my groin.
"You're not wearing panties."
"No seductress worthy of her name does."
Pushing her dress further up until I relieve her of it, I kiss across her collarbone to her sweet spot. She moans against my mouth as I slide a hand between us, stroking her clit, coaxing more sounds of pleasure out of her.
"I need to be inside you. Now."
She reaches for the nightstand where the condoms are. After sliding one on me, she climbs back in my lap, her knees positioned at the sides of my thighs. We lock eyes for a brief moment, and then I nod, letting her know I'm up for the ride. Wanting to drive her crazy, I drag the tip of my erection up and down her folds.
"Christopher." Her thighs quiver violently when she lowers herself on me, taking me in.
"You look gorgeous like this."
I cup her cheek with one hand, and she turns her head slightly, leaning into my touch. With the other hand, I grip her ass, guiding her moves, watching her reactions. I want to learn everything that gives this woman pleasure, everything that makes her happy, and I don't mind if that turns out to be one lifelong lesson. This is perfection.
She increases her pace, squeezing me good with her inner muscles. "I won't last long," I warn her before lowering my other thumb to her clit. The combined effect of feeling her ride me and seeing her come undone is violent. Energy shoots through me, my balls tightening.
I cover her mouth with mine, and we both moan our release. Afterward, I hold her tightly to me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Victoria
Mom used to say she always knew when something bad was going to happen, that she could feel it in her bones. The night before their accident, she called me and told me she loved me. I didn't inherit her talent for premonitions.
Today is a gorgeous Wednesday, seventy degrees with sun, a rarity in San Francisco for the beginning of December. Ah, how I love this month, even if it does rain a lot, and on some days the clouds are so dense, you can't see one speck of blue sky. The one thing I wish San Francisco had is snow. It would be considerably colder, but snow is just magic. Still, even without snow and the permanent presence of its much less magic sister rain, my birthday and Christmas are in December, which are reasons enough for it to be my favorite month. I'm a happy camper as I scour the city, searching for the perfect leather armchair for a client. When I can't find what I need through my usual suppliers, I start hunting.
San Francisco abounds in little thrift and antique shops. There is some serious crap in them, but there is the occasional gem to be found that makes the search worthwhile. Even the fact that I'm meeting Hervis Jackson today for the monthly update doesn't put a damper on my good mood.
Armed with a bucket-sized cup of cherry black tea, I search shops, finding just what I need in a quaint one with antiques. I take pictures and ask the vendor to put it on hold for me for two days so I can get my client's approval.
Afterward, I head to the coffee shop where I'm meeting Hervis. His schedule is so packed that he doesn't have time to drive all the way to our house, and he wanted more than a phone update. Suits me. I have nothing but good news to relay to him.
I arrive at the coffee shop a few minutes earlier than our scheduled meeting and head to a free table. I've barely reached it when my phone rings. Placing my huge bag on the table, I look through it until I find the phone. Isabelle is calling.
Holding the phone to my ear, I greet, "Hey!"
"Have you checked your e-mail?"
"Not in a few hours."
"Girl, you should sit on it for this news."
My heart soars in anticipation. I bet she's calling to tell me we nailed down the McLeod account. That would be our first business to business contract since I worked on Alice's restaurant, and it would be a nice extra income.
"I'm sitting," I lie, too excited to do so. Instead, I'm standing next to the table, grinning like a lunatic.
"Natasha is suing us. Her lawyer e-mailed us."
My stomach constricts, suddenly feeling nut-sized. Maybe I should have sat. Breathing in deeply and then releasing it out slowly, I try to calm myself down enough to think.
