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‘As in, you don’t do girlfriends.’
A blade of panic slips into my chest. I don’t do girlfriends. Haven’t done since Emily and never will again, because of Emily. Once bitten, twice shy. But is that what Jessica’s looking for? Does she think tonight is the precursor to something more between us?
I take a step back and she makes a throaty, laughing noise.
‘Easy, tiger.’ She steps my way, closing the distance between us, her eyes on mine in a way that pushes fire right into my soul. ‘I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend.’
It’s so absurd that I laugh, but even I can hear it’s a shaky sound rent with relief.
‘This is strictly a one-night thing, okay?’
I stare at her, relief flooding my veins. What is she? Some kind of creation from my fantasies? I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman spell that out to me. I’m usually the one giving the ‘boundaries’ talk.
‘You sure you’ll be done with me in one night?’ I tease, surprising myself because it almost sounds like I won’t be done with her.
‘Oh, I’m absolutely positive, but I do so admire your confidence.’
And on that zinger, she drops to her knees, batting her long black lashes up at me until I find that there’s a stitch in my chest because of how hard she’s made it to breathe.
‘I must say, in this department, I can definitely see how you earned your reputation.’ Her fingertip traces my cock from base to tip. I tilt my head back and stare up at the ornate chandelier overhead, my gaze shifting sideways to the glass ceiling across the room as she takes my arousal into her mouth, just the tip, just enough to make my whole body tighten, my balls firming up with the promise of what’s to come. She moves slowly, as if she instinctively knows how much of a torment that is when I just want to dig my fingers into her hair and push her head forward to take me deep into her mouth. Fuck. Images of that roll through my mind as she flicks her tongue across me and then, as if she’s read my innermost thoughts, she surges forward, taking my length in one sudden motion, so I connect with the back of her throat and have to rock on my heels a bit. My eyes fill with stars.
I dig my hands into my hips to stop from reaching for her—it takes every ounce of discipline I possess. She works the length of my cock; her mouth is so wet and warm, I feel as if I could seriously lose myself right now—so much for one night, I might not even make it one hour... Christ.
She pulls back, looking up at me as she rolls her tongue over my tip and that’s the final straw. I reach down, grabbing Jessica beneath her arms, lifting her in one urgent motion, kissing the delightful mouth that had, a second ago, been driving me beyond the point of sanity. I push her, or maybe she drags me, I can’t tell because we’re both moving with the same frantic, urgent, desperate hunger, until her back is against a wall and I’m pressing my body to hers, my cock at the seam of her jeans, the tightness of the denim a desperate, aching barrier to what I need.
‘I want to fuck you so hard,’ I groan, fisting a hand in her hair, its silky length reminding me of rope and blindfolds and all things good.
She bites down on my lower lip, lifting one leg around my waist, inviting me closer. ‘Then fuck me. Fuck me now.’
I don’t need to be asked twice. ‘Bedroom?’ I ask, swooping down and lifting her over one shoulder so she laughs—but it’s an uneven sound, filled with a burst of emotion—and points down the hallway.
‘So conservative? I’m almost disappointed.’
I grin, smacking her butt for good measure. ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever called me conservative before.’ I swipe my jacket as I pass, carrying it—and more importantly, my condom-holding wallet—into a massive bedroom with sweeping views over Esplanade Park. I can just make out the lights of the cenotaph in the distance.
‘There’s a first time for everything.’
I drop her down on the edge of the bed, tossing my jacket beside her. She angles her face towards it with a hint of a frown, then looks back up at me. I’m already reaching for the buttons of her blouse, pushing at them quickly, until it opens to reveal the pale, creamy skin of her stomach, the white silk of her bra and the shape of her round breasts. I reach behind her, flicking the bra strap open; she sits up so I can disentangle the bra and shirt, tossing both to the ground beside me.
‘Tsk-tsk, they’ll rumple, Zach.’
I lift a brow. ‘So we’ll get Housekeeping.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘So spoiled.’ She reaches up, grabbing my arm, taking advantage of the fact I’m a little unsteady in the legs after the way she went down on me a moment ago, yanking me to the bed and rolling up over me at the same time. She holds herself above me, her naked breasts crushed to the cotton of my shirt, warm through the material, making me wish I had way fewer clothes—and that she did too. Even through the jeans she wears though, she begins to move as though I were inside her, rocking her hips, teasing me with how close we are. She bites down on her lip then sits up, arching her back so I have a perfect view of her breasts as she rolls her hips until her breathing is rushed. Jesus, she’s going to come.
I shift my hands to her jeans, flicking the button open and pushing up, manoeuvring her to standing so she can get out of the damned things. When she’s naked, I take a second, just staring at her, devouring her with my eyes, the dusky pink of her areolae fascinating me, demanding my attention,
until my eyes travel lower to the hint of dark curls at the top of her thighs. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. She is perfection. I reach for her wrist, my voice deep, ‘Get back here.’
She laughs, that same off-kilter laugh, and I drop my head between her thighs, my tongue finding her most sensitive flesh and flicking her as I drive a finger into her moist core. She’s already so turned on, she’s so wet. I move my tongue harder, faster, and in a matter of seconds she’s spiralling over the edge, her pussy tightening around me in spasms, her voice rough in the air as she cries out, over and over, calling my name to the stars above Singapore.
I’ve never felt more like some kind of fucking sex god.
CHAPTER THREE
HE’S A FUCKING sex god. Oh, my God. I don’t think I’ve ever had a more intense orgasm in my life. I push up onto my elbows and he’s not even taking a victory lap, looking at me waiting for praise like so many other guys I can think of. Zach Papandreo is way too self-assured for that. Didn’t I peg him as an arrogant alpha CEO-type the second I met him? Even before that, I knew what he’d be like. Still, his overt self-confidence is refreshing.
He’s kissing my inner thigh gently, slowly, as if he understands I need a minute to catch my breath. His fingers move to my stomach, drawing invisible little swirls there, and goosebumps lift my skin all over. I arch my back, making a low, soft moaning noise, writhing as warmth and pleasure spread through my whole body.
