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My jaw clenched.
“Yes.” You bastard. “I do.”
I enunciated the response so impatiently that Iain promptly slowed the stroking motion of his palm on my ass to a stop. Without saying a word, I could feel him cautioning me, and for a second, I was convinced he was going to spank me. My every muscle tensed as I steeled myself for the blow.
But instead, he pulled my legs wider apart, till my panties were digging into my thighs. Then he smoothed his hands back up to my ass, grabbing it firmly and spreading me wide apart before burying his mouth in my pussy.
My knees gave out at the first hot lick of his tongue, and I had to let out a moan as Iain held me back up with two rough handfuls of my ass.
“Oh God, omigod…” I whispered frantically, pressing my palm against my own mouth to forcibly shut myself up as Iain speared his skilled tongue inside me, pulsing in and out of me over and over till I was ready to scream his name loud enough for his whole office to hear.
I had no idea this sensation existed. It was the warmest, wettest thing I’d ever felt in my life—especially now that he was using the whole flat of his tongue, molding it to the contour of my pussy and lapping greedily at me. Like he couldn’t get enough of me. As he eased out all my wetness, he let his low groans vibrate in a pleasurable hum against my lips, giving me no time to feel even a little self-conscious, because according to the sounds he was making, I was fucking delicious and he was insatiable. It was so hot I didn’t even realize I’d started touching myself till Iain rumbled with approval.
“Good girl,” he murmured between licks. “Play with your clit.”
He spread me even wider as he continued devouring me from behind, murmuring to me every so often as I stroked furiously between my legs.
“Iain…”
Eyes closed, I tipped my head back, still hugging the column with one arm and curling my fingers against my bottom lip, on call to clasp over my mouth in case I moaned really loud, because I was pretty sure I was going to soon. Without even realizing it, I’d gotten on my tippy-toes. My legs were flexed taut and I could feel the most delicious heat spreading through my lower body as Iain switched between lapping at my pussy and tunneling inside it.
“Oh God, I’m going to come,” I said all in one breath as my head started drifting off to that delirious place.
“Let me taste it,” Iain rasped.
As usual, I obliged his command.
With my right arm, I both hugged the column and clamped my palm over my mouth, muffling my sharp moan as my orgasm slammed into me. My chest hurt from pitching forward into the column, but I didn’t even care because Iain was still kneeling calmly behind my shaking body, coaxing every drop of my arousal onto his tongue.
And for the first time ever, I felt irresistible.
Sexy.
Like a fully-experienced woman.
In fact, I was convinced it should be a rite of passage for every woman to have this moment with a beautiful, suited man in the stairwell of a shiny Manhattan high-rise. It was probably my post-orgasmic haze talking, but still. I was sure of it.
“Iain…” I somewhat whined as he returned to his feet. I could feel him over my shoulder as he pulled my panties back up and then my skirt back down—calm and easy despite the hint of ire in his voice when he spoke.
“You have no idea how hard it is for me not to fuck you right now.”
When I turned around, my breath promptly hitched in my throat, because I found Iain’s eyes smoldering into mine with a look of pure unfiltered desire. It stole the air from my lungs and made my knees threaten to buckle all over again. I instinctively reached for his belt, but before I could touch him, he caught me, collecting my hands and placing them behind my back.
Holding them there, he looked down at me, his gaze softening as he finally asked me what I’d been waiting for since we stepped foot in the stairwell.
“What are you doing tonight?”
14
IAIN
For the past five years, the Victorian Hotel had been a staple of mine for conducting business.
I held late-night meetings here, threw parties here. Entertained clients at the ever-trendy rooftop bar. I reserved rooms for athletes and colleagues, and whenever I did, I called personally to ensure that this “very good friend of mine” would be fully taken care of by the staff and made to feel like a fucking billionaire. Anytime I stepped foot in this building, it was entirely to do with work.
Yet for the second night in a row, I was here solely for my own debauchery.
And judging by the bedroom eyes and flirty lilting, the women at the front desk were keenly aware of that.
