AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Am I over-dressed?" I run my sweat-soaked palms down the fabric of my dress. Thankfully, I packed a range of clothes in my suitcase when I moved from L.A. I might have left in a hurry, but I had enough presence of mind to pack my favorite outfits, which include this pale blue, silk shirt-dress that comes to below my knees. It’s made of a flowing crepe de chine fabric with a collar, a wrap detail bodice, and a belt that cinches in at the waist. It’s timeless and elegant and something I know makes me look good.
After that call with his grandmother, he left me in my office to get on with my work and promised to be back to pick me up at four-thirty p.m. I told him he didn’t need to, but he said we should for the sake of appearances. Of course, Edward is in his office down the corridor from me, as are his assistant and the admin and finance teams, so I suppose he’s right.
Also, his grandmother was right. I saw the pictures from the interview, and the one of us kissing is smokin’. And the other pictures all have Rick looking at me like I’m the love of his life. There’s even a slight curve to his lips in one, and his eyes have this look of adoration that made my heart go flip-flop. Ugh, he’s a better actor than I am; other than the kiss where I’m leaning into him, I look a little uncomfortable, like I’m not sure what to do with myself.
Fact is, as a PR professional, I’m used to managing the profiles of my clients. But now that I’m in the spotlight myself, it’s making me realize I don’t like having the attention on me. I've also gained a new understanding of how difficult it is for clients to keep their composure when they're faced with prying questions. Still, it’s already been worth it. That look of shock on Dennis’ face when he’d found out I’d moved on made it worth it. And if this coerces Grams to get her operation, then it’s worth all the scrutiny over my life and having to share living quarters with the Grumphole, right?
"Well?" I turn to him. "Am I dressed appropriately for this visit?"
He eases the car to a stop at a traffic-signal, then turns and drags his gaze down my face, my chest, my legs, which I cross over each other. My skirt slides up my thighs. He takes in the skin exposed above my knees, and goosebumps pop on my skin. I resist the urge to pull down the fabric and cover myself up.
"You haven’t answered the question," I remind him.
He brings his gaze up to my face, and his blue eyes flash with desire before he banks it. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world."
Heat flushes my cheeks. This man… He makes me blush like I’ve never been complimented before. Which I have been, but coming from him? It’s different. It’s special. It’s personal. It feeds something primitive inside of me. Something I can’t understand, something that makes me want to please him even more. Something that makes me want to earn his praise and feel contented.
The signal changes, and he faces forward before taking his foot off the brake. His thick fingers grip the wheel with practiced ease. He’s changed into slacks and a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. As he steers the car, veins stand out on his forearms. The dark hair peppered there, the chiseled muscles that flex as he drives… All of it elicits a familiar prickling between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together to assuage the emptiness that yawns there. The emptiness which is now stamped by the shape of his cock.
He must sense it for he growls, "Spread your legs."
32
Rick
"What?" she says in a breathless voice.
"Don’t make me repeat myself," I say in a hard voice.
I’m sure she’s going to refuse, then she slowly slides her legs apart. I keep my attention on the road—doesn’t mean I’m not tuned in to her. Enough to have noticed she was turned on. Enough to have smelled her arousal and sensed her squeeze her thighs together. Enough to wrap my fingers more firmly around the wheel and ensure I don’t look at her. If I do, I’ll lose control, and I can’t have that, not when my pillow princess is riding in the car with me.
"Pull up your dress," I order.
Her breathing grows rougher, then I hear the whisper of the fabric over her skin as she draws it up. That sweet scent of her arousal intensifies, and my mouth waters. The blood drains to my groin and my balls grow so hard, I have to spread my own legs to accommodate my erection. Jesus H Christ, all I have to do is smell her and I’m so turned on I want to pull over, yank her to me, fit her over my erection and thrust up and into her, over and over again, until she orgasms. The air in the car thickens. That unseen chord that has bound us since we met tightens.
"Now slide your fingers inside your panties."
"What?" she squeaks.
"You heard me, Goldie."
She draws in a breath, then I sense her following my instructions. I know when she’s brought her fingers to her core, for she moans.
"Touch your clit for me, baby."
"Rick, no, please. I’m so sensitive there. I can’t do this. I can’t."
"Yes you can.”
I know she’s blushing something fierce, for the heat in the enclosed space dials up a few notches. A bead of sweat slides down my temple, and my vision narrows. My fingers tingle, and I’m this close to saying to hell with the trip, turning right back so I can take her back to the room and fuck her until she’s screaming my name. But I promised Grams I’d bring her for a visit, and until I met her, Grams was the most important woman in my life. So, I can’t disappoint her. "Don’t disappoint me, Goldie. Feel how swollen that little nub of yours is. Feel how moist your channel is as it prepares itself for my cock."
"Rick, oh my god," she gasps, then cries out, and I know she’s fondling her clit.
"That’s it baby, like that. Circle that little bud for me."
She shudders, then arches her back as she follows my orders.
"Now slide two fingers inside yourself."
