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I turned toward her voice, and when I saw her stretched out on her bed, completely in the nude, my mind went blank.
“And that’s the expression I was hoping to see.” She smiled at me, tracing a finger between her breasts, then around the small mounds, and up to one pale nipple. My eyes followed the path she made, lust hitting me like a punch in the gut.
Damn, she was beautiful.
“You’re overdressed,” she said.
I tossed my jacket and tie onto the chair in the corner and then got to work on my shirt. A burst of pride filled me at the hunger in London’s eyes as she watched me unbutton my shirt. When I stripped off my trousers and pants, she made a soft sound that brought a smile to my face.
I was half-hard as I crawled onto the bed and pushed her legs apart. Prettily pink and nearly bare, her pussy made my mouth water. It’d been too long since I’d tasted her. I stretched out between her legs, curling my fingers over her thighs as I buried my face in her cunt and licked her from core to clit.
“Fuck!” Her back arched, and she came up off the mattress.
I chuckled and held her tighter, forcing her body back down onto the bed. I ran my tongue over and around that bundle of nerves, gauging her responses to the different levels of pressure, the different kinds of friction. As she grew wetter, I slipped a finger inside her, eliciting curses intermingled with her moans. My cock throbbed, pressing against the bedspread as blood rushed south. Working a second finger into her, I twisted the digits with each thrust and steadily pushed her toward climax until she finally came with a scream that made me wonder just how thin her walls were.
I moved over her, covering her mouth with mine. She kissed me eagerly, her hands gripping my shoulders even as she hooked one leg over my hip. The tip of my cock brushed against her, nudged between her folds, and I groaned.
“Inside me.” She nipped at my bottom lip. “I want you inside me.”
She raised the lower half of her body, and the head of my cock slipped inside her entrance. I cursed, my hips jerking involuntarily and pushing me deeper. I cursed, squeezing my eyes closed as I fought for control. She felt too good. Slick and hot, skin against skin–
Shite.
My eyes flew open. “Condom.”
I started to pull back, but London tightened her hold on me, wrapping both legs around my waist and digging her nails into my shoulders.
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “Please.”
How could I argue when we fit together so perfectly? When it felt right to drive deep into her and make her mine?
I took her mouth again, my tongue thrusting between her lips. Long, slow strokes sent ripples of pleasure over and through me, building the pressure in me even as I stoked the fire in her.
My hand found her breast, her nipple a hard point against my palm. Rolling the sensitive skin between my finger and thumb, I tugged on her nipple until she cried out, then bent my head to take her into my mouth. I sucked on the tight flesh, scraping my teeth over it as she writhed beneath me. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, the muscles in her body tensed, and her pussy clamped down on me. I bit her nipple, and she keened, completely coming apart.
The gasp of my name pushed me over the edge, and I came with a groan, pressing my face against the side of her neck as I emptied myself inside her.
We clung to each other, shuddering through the aftereffects of orgasms so intense we nearly passed out. I knew my feelings for her were strong, but it wasn’t until this moment that I realized how badly I was lost.
TWENTY-FIVE
SPENCER
Openingnight on the West End had been nerve-wracking because it was my first big production. Tonight’s opening night was nerve-wracking for being my first Broadway production, but also for a different reason. It was London’s first lead role on the biggest stage, and I wanted everything to go well for her sake and my own.
I had a completely different reason to be nervous, too. London’s parents were here, and she wanted me to meet them after the show.
In England, I would’ve known what to expect, having been born into the aristocracy. Here, I was a theater producer, and I had no idea what her family would think of that.
Then the music began, the curtain went up, and all my anxious thoughts disappeared. I let myself get caught up in the magic London made with a story I’d seen hundreds of times before.
She was perfection, embodying the role in a way that I hadn’t even seen Anjelika do. And London made Timothy better. The man was a brilliant actor in his own right, but seeing the two of them together…I felt like I was watching something special.
So special that I pushed aside even the first hint of jealousy that reared its head when they kissed, and people cheered.
Their chemistry was only for the stage. I was the one meeting London’s family tonight. And even if Timothy was introduced, it’d be as her co-star, not her boyfriend.
After the curtain call, I met her backstage, hating that I was empty-handed. While we weren’t exactly hiding our relationship, it wasn’t wise to reveal anything to the cast on opening night. So, I had to be content with sending flowers to her apartment earlier today rather than giving them to her after the show.
