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“Dusting the closet?” he asked nonchalantly.
“I, ah, well, I…”
Uninvited, he stepped into the darkness of the closet. “I don’t like being spied on, Miss Divine.” His voice was a gruff whisper and his breath was unbearably close to her face.
“I wasn’t spying.” She was surprised she could even speak.
“Yes, you were.” He framed her face with his hands and splayed his fingers on the back of her neck, pulling her closer. “Now what do you propose I do with you?”
“I-I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered, absolutely certain of one thing, and that was that she absolutely knew nothing anymore, only that this was definitely not good for her career.
“Oh no?” His coal-black eyes glimmered in the darkness. Slowly he moved forward, his hands firm on her face, and an innate survival instinct prompted her to take a step backward. Undeterred, he inched closer until the tips of her breasts brushed against his wide chest and her buttocks flattened against the wall behind her. “So. Tell me. Did you intend to eavesdrop on me and Miss MacFadden?”
He leaned his weight into her…fully…the hardness of his chest crushing her breasts, the strength of his big, hard body suddenly making her feel tiny and vulnerable. Lucy’s breath caught in her throat at the feel of a monstrous bulge pressed snugly between her hips. He was extremely, potently, unquestionably hard. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from melting to the floor. “Were you going to watch us, Miss Divine?”
His deep, husky voice vibrated against her skin like a caress, making her shiver. “Of course not, how can you even think that?” she whispered, feeling extremely breathless and agitated, as if she’d run a hundred miles.
Either he, or Miranda MacFadden, had undone the two top buttons of his shirt, and she could see a smooth expanse of chest. It rose and fell with each breath, and he, too, sounded agitated…as if he’d run even more miles than she had. His chest was muscled and deeply tanned and proved to be a definite turn-on—as if she needed any sort of encouragement at this point. She was literally, physically hot and aching.
Then it happened. Her wish. Oh dear—it was a miracle.
His lips brushed over hers, the fleeting touch sending sizzling jolts of awareness to every nerve ending in her body. Slowly his hands slid from her face, down her arms and toward her buttocks. “Or did you want this for yourself?”
None too gently, he cupped and squeezed her rump, pulling her forward as he rammed his hardness against her pelvis. Thick cords strained in his neck as he clutched her tightly to his huge muscled body, and Lucy exerted her own supreme efforts and bit back a string of whimpers, knowing she would surely die from sheer, utter desire. As if on c
ue her apex flooded with hot, wanton juices, and she worried that any minute now he’d be able to actually see the steam coming out of her pussy.
She needn’t have worried, for he was completely engrossed with her face. “God, I want you,” he breathed hotly.
Before his words even registered, he crushed his lips to hers and groaned deep in his throat at the contact. Taking her needy moan as an invitation, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Wine. He tasted like spicy red wine, and Lucy found that she craved him, craved more, craved to get leg-wobbly, irresponsibly drunk with his taste. Hot, powerful hands rubbed her back, pressing her closer to a body as perfect and hard as a marble sculpture, but far, far warmer.
When his tongue retreated from her mouth, she moaned her disagreement and followed it into his. For her troubles, he gifted her with a rumbling groan of pleasure that reverberated all the way down to her pussy.
His mouth seared her, his wet, powerful tongue sparring with hers, awakening emotions both fierce and debilitating that she never even knew she possessed. She felt as though she were falling down the edge of a precipice and was powerless to do anything but hold on for dear life.
And as if he were life itself, she wrapped her arms around his neck, held on tightly and kissed him back like a hussy, like a hot, wet, horny little slut. Which she had never, ever in her life been—until now. Oh yes, now all she wanted was to kiss him, touch him. Damn her career, damn everything—everything except this. Patrick Holden kissing her. Patrick Holden’s rock-hard cock so very near her sex. It could drive a girl crazy. It did drive her crazy.
Muffling a soft, decadent sound of passion that came from deep within him, he slanted his lips to get better access to her mouth while his hands skimmed back to her buttocks, slowly inching the length of her skirt upward, higher, higher, until she felt the air caress her bare legs and her scantily clad rump.
Lucy gasped when he cupped her legs where they met her bottom and lifted her. He did it so easily, as if she weighed no more than a feather, and with equal ease she locked her legs around his hips, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck. The feel of his hot, rough palms on the tender skin of her buttocks and his all-powerful tongue mercilessly thrusting into her mouth drove her insides into a frenzy. Whatever madness this was she didn’t want it to end, because he felt glorious, wonderful, amazing.
Perfect.
Tightening her legs around his hips, she arched her neck, allowing his strong, savage mouth to freely trail a path of damp, searing kisses down her skin. Separated only by the thin fabric of her panties and his thicker slacks, his cock fiercely scraped against her sex. The feel of him pulsing against her, throbbing with red-hot desire, quite understandably converted Lucy into a bona fide, award-winning slut. One with about as much pride as a dirty street beggar.
Her fingers sank into a thick mass of jet-black hair, so silky and soft and glorious it made her purr in delirium. “Please, Holden…please.” Her pleas were hot, intimate whispers embraced by the dark confines of the closet. “Now, now.”
“God, I’ve been dying to touch you,” he murmured as his hands fisted on her panties and gave them a swift pull. When she felt the fabric tear and separate she all but whimpered in heat, knowing there was now only one barrier, one measly barrier preventing him from sliding his penis inside her and making hot, delicious love to her.
“I’ve wanted you since the day I met you,” he breathed before planting a wet, sloppy kiss on her earlobe. “I’ve fucked you a thousand times in my mind already.”
“I’ve thought about you too,” she confessed, rubbing her pelvis against his hardness, wishing he would release his cock and thrust it inside her right this very instant. Her whole body shivered and her sex stung with a desire so harsh and primal and so not professional.
“Did you?” His strained words were muffled against her neck. “Do you touch yourself and come, thinking of us, Lucy?”
“Yes,” she gasped, knowing she might later regret her confession but right now she didn’t. Now she wanted him to know how she felt, to know how she wanted him. Like she’d never wanted anyone before.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathed. “I can’t think. I can’t work. Sometimes I can’t even breathe.” Bringing his lips back to hers, he kissed her ardently while he shoved a hand between their bodies to undo his zipper.
