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I practically heard the giant whoosh in my brain as my every ounce of awe for New York promptly refocused on Iain.
He stood across the sprawling room from me, looking like pure sex and authority in a brilliant white shirt and tailored slacks. His sleeves were pushed up the way I liked, and his grey silk tie was undone, but still hanging around his neck, giving me instant fantasies of being bent over a desk in his shiny Midtown office and ruthlessly spanked till he was fully de-stressed from the day.
And just like that, I’d ruined another pair of panties.
“Hi,” I finally returned, my pulse picking up as his eyes dropped down my body. For once, his attention on me was immediate, unabashed. Like he was already prepared to devour me whole.
It made everything from my throat to my thighs tremble as he began to come toward me, his stride purposefully slow, almost predatory so his eyes could take their time moving up my legs, my hips, my waist. My breasts.
Stopping at the couch, he leaned against the armrest, the length of his body on full display as he drank me in, probably watching my nipples harden right before his eyes.
His mouth was curved in a bit of a smirk when he finally looked up at me.
“How are you feeling right now?” he asked.
“Fine,” I answered too quickly. But then I added, “A little nervous.”
He studied me for a moment. “Why?”
“Because… this is still crazy to me?” I said with a laugh. “And I guess because… I don’t know what to expect from you. And I don’t have a lot of experience.”
“That’s not relevant to me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I spent my entire day thinking about how tight your pussy felt around my fingers last night,” Ia
in said matter-of-factly. “I don’t need you to know what you’re doing, Holland. I just need to fuck you.”
A knot jumped into my throat and I swallowed it back, as turned on as I was intimidated by the casual savageness of his statement.
“And how hard are you going to fuck me?” I asked, my voice coming out softer than I intended. My fingers rushed to play with the ends of my hair when Iain didn’t immediately answer, only studying me for several moments.
“If you’re afraid I’ll hurt you,” he said, his voice low, “I won’t.”
I nodded.
And though I believed him, I mentally cursed his need to be so very economical with his words. It was clear that New York Iain was a man of efficiency, who never spoke beyond what was necessary—even when right now, it was clear that I wanted, maybe needed him to say more. When I was younger, whatever the situation, he could always read the look in my eyes with little effort and utter the exact words I needed to feel better at that moment.
But that was a different time.
And a different Iain. That much was for sure, considering old Iain would never dare to ask what he asked me next.
“Is your pussy wet for me?”
A shiver ran up my spine as I nodded.
“It’s been,” I laughed, peering down at my own lap. “I think I’m wetter now than I was last night,” I added. And when I looked up again, I saw the faint smirk on Iain’s lips and the appetite burning in his green eyes.
“Are you going to show me?”
I smiled, immediately hot over how very dirty that simple question sounded.
“Yes. But…” Wrapping my hair around my finger, I let the silence stretch between us for a second. “I want to touch you first,” I finally said. And when Iain tilted his head in question, I answered by letting my eyes fall to his package. “I want to feel your cock in my hand. So I know what to expect.”
Iain’s eyebrows lifted for a brief moment of surprise, and then he stared at me for a bit, his eyes glimmering with what looked like amusement. But after another few seconds of silence, he gave a single nod, his voice like velvet as he said, “Come here.”
IAIN
