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“You think you can take your sweet time with me, and I don’t get to return the favor?” he asked, giving me a devilish smirk as his fingers dipped into me once again.
“Emilio, please,” I begged, not caring how needy I sounded right then. I was needy.
“Please what?” he asked. “What do you want, baby?”
“More,” I whimpered.
“More what?” he asked. “More of this?” he asked, fingers surging inside again.
“Yes, that,” I whimpered, my walls tightening around him. “And…”
“And?” he prompted. “What else do you want?” he asked as his fingers continued to work me, as his thumb worked across my clit, making it impossible to think straight. “Do you want my mouth?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whimpered, rocking against his touch. “Emilio, please. Now.”
On a growling sound, he yanked down my pants and panties, then pressed me onto the desk, legs wide, and moved between.
Tongue teasing, lips sucking, fingers stroking.
The entire world fell away.
My mind fell blissfully silent.
All there was in the world was that moment, was the feel of him as he drove me upward.
Right to that brink.
Then over it.
The orgasm slammed almost painfully through my system, stealing my breath, my voice, leaving me shuddering and grabbing the back of his head as he continued to work me through it, dragging it out.
It took all of, oh, point-five seconds before the guilt came surging back, making my voice catch, and I was just quick enough to fight back the sob that was working its way up my throat.
“Hey,” Emilio called, voice soft, as his hands reached for me, pulling me toward him, then down onto his lap. “You okay?” he asked, making it clear I wasn’t as good at covering my emotion as I hoped.
“Yeah,” I lied. “Except I don’t think this chair is designed to hold both of us,” I said, hearing an alarming creak.
“It’s fin—“ Emilio started before there was another louder, creak.
Then suddenly we were moving.
Crashing down to the floor.
With me on the bottom, my wind knocked out of me, but not my amusement at the whole situation as I tried to push up, but was pinned under Emilio’s weight.
“Fuck,” Emilio hissed. “Are you okay? Are you crying?” he asked as he lifted up to look down at me.
And then he realized it wasn’t crying.
It was laughter.
Seeing it, a smile tugged at his lips before my amusement became infectious and he was laughing too, resting his face in my shoulder.
“I based the whole room remodel on that chair, damnit,” I said, making him chuckle harder for a second before pushing up onto his knees and looking down at me.
“You okay? You didn’t hit your head?” he asked.
“No, I pulled my chin to my chest at the last possible second,” I said. “Just a little winded,” I added. “And I might have a pretty epic bruise on my ass,” I added.
“Want me to check that out for you?” he asked, all boyish charm as he helped me to my feet.
He did turn me then, giving my ass a little squeeze before pulling my pants and panties up my legs.
“Fucking needed that laugh today,” he admitted, grabbing my chin, and pulling me in for a kiss. “I think your ass will be okay. But I volunteer to inspect it every hour or so for the next week to make sure it stays that way,” he said, making another laugh bubble up and escape me.
God, did I like this man.
“Hey, any interest in going out to eat tonight?” he asked.
“Out?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah, turns out there’s a whole world outside of this Brownstone. Food, music, fun. So I hear. It’s been a while,” he said.
“I’m… not opposed to fun,” I said, thrilled at the idea. Even if I knew it was a terrible plan, that what I really needed was to put up guards, not allow him to keep getting more and more embedded in my heart.
“Good. Got any going-out clothes here?” he asked.
“I can clean up,” I agreed, smiling at the prospect of dressing up for him. “Where are we going?
“Who the fuck knows? Just out there,” he said, gesturing toward the front of the house.
“Out there. Got it,” I agreed, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then turning and rushing out of the room.
I’d mostly packed practical outfits for the job, but I had stashed a few pretty things in my luggage because, from the outside, the Costas looked like fancy people. So I was worried Emilio would want me to host a party or something in prettier clothes than I would clean his house in.
Digging in the back of one of my bags, my fingers closed around the familiar soft material that slid like silk through my fingers.
The traditional little black dress.
Good for any occasion.
I had other little black dresses, of course. Ones that cut low in the front or showed off a lot of leg. Club dresses, if you will, but it had been ages since I’d had an occasion to wear one of those.
