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“What? Security didn’t call me.”
Can’t help the snort. He’s seriously doubting my stealth skills? “And yet, I’m still here.”
I hang up, smiling. A moment later, the covering over the peephole clicks open and then closed. The door swings open, his body positioned behind it. He’s offering me unfettered access. Trusting.
I stroll inside his apartment, taking in every detail. This place speaks of him, with its open floor plan and natural wood floors, lovely big kitchen with a breakfast bar. There’s a two-person, bar-height table by a sliding glass door that leads onto a balcony. A gray leather Chesterfield sofa with thick scroll arms and a high back are flanked by two equally deep upholstered chairs. And huge flat-screen TV stationed is on the wall over a fireplace with a green-marble mantel. I love it. Okay, he’s a keeper.
Behind me the door clicks closed.
I turn.
Whoa. Disheveled hair. Shadow-lined jaw. That just-woken-up confusion in his bleary blue eyes. Fucking hot. Andhello. At least one part of him is awake. “You sleep in the nude.”
He moves like a panther, grabs me by the waist and drags me up against his hard-on. He kisses me—kisses me with skill and insistence. Kisses me as if the time we’d spent apart is years, not days. His need, his wordless hunger, take my breath away. His tongue sets me on fire.
I arch into him, inhaling sleep and man. Warm, velvety liquid saturates my panties.Soooglad I broke into his building this morning.
His demanding lips work on mine. His stubble scratches. His hot hands travel up my body and he pulls out my hair tie, then tangle in the strands. He angles my head so he can deepen the kiss.
This man knows how to fucking kiss. Our tongues—wet and hot—our lips—soft and needy—reacquaint themselves. Our breathing grows loud and strong enough that we both know next steps are needed right now.
We break apart. His breaths are ragged. His hands grasp my hair tight enough to hurt and he demands, “Take your clothes off.”
An excellent idea. Too bad I don’t have enough air to say that; a visual aid will have to do.
I guide his hands from my hair, then step back, whisk off my shirt, undo my bra, and free my breasts.
He groans long and low.
Not gonna lie, I’m kind of loving the stark need on his face. I turn up the heat by unzipping my black jeans. I turn around, lower the pants to my ankles without bending my knees.
“Dear God.”
What man doesn’t appreciate a good thong? I let him appreciate it, taking my time unlacing my boots. I flick them off, wiggle out of my jeans, then make a show of losing the thong.
When I stand up, before I can turn around to see his reaction, he is there, pressing his hard body against my ass.
He runs a hand over my breasts, squeezes and fondles them. “Fuck, Justice. I need you.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” I lean back into him. “The feeling is mutual.”
Laughing lightly in my ear, he reaches down, strokes a finger through my folds, grunting in male satisfaction at my silky wetness. Two of his long fingers crook inside me, and I nearly come. I moan my pleasure. I am strung so tight, am so ready.
His fingers slide in and out, the palm of his hand rubbing against my clit, his ragged breath loud in my ears.
“Sandesh. That feels so good.”
Encouraged, he pumps his finger faster, pressing his other hand flat against my stomach, pulling me tight against his hard-on. His arms around me, his hot breath in my ear, his hard-on pressed to my ass, he envelops me, big and warm and solid. It’s more than enough.
My body tightens, the tension so good, then I break. Panting hard, I writhe and moan, arch my head back, dig my hands into his biceps as trembling, electric pulses ride over me, shatter me. “Oh. Sandesh. Sandesh.”
He whispers, “Watching you come… Can’t get enough.”
The aftershocks tingle through me as his fingers slip out. Still losing my mind over him, I turn, seeking the hardness of him between my throbbing thighs.
We kiss, wild with need, crazed with excitement.
No time for niceties, I break from him. “Ride me hard.”
