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But it’s only a few seconds before I feel him move, and I tilt my head back to watch him reach for the bottle of orange juice that fell to the ground during our activities.
He twists the top off and holds it to my lips. I take a sip and then another and then pull back. He downs the rest and lies back down.
“Didn’t I tell you you’d need it?” he says pointedly.
I poke out my tongue. “Really? You’re going to ruin this nice moment by reminding me you know best?”
He grins and drops another kiss on my forehead. “Every single fucking time, moonshine.”
Twenty-Six
Kingsley
Her throaty, unrestrained laughter against my chest feels like a balm to wounds I forgot I had.
Or at least ones I refuse to believe I have.
My hand tangles in her hair, and I drag her head up to mine, then drop a single soft kiss to her lips, which are still bruised from my assault on them earlier.
My cock twitches at the thought of what I could do to that mouth, but it doesn’t drown out the tenderness of the kiss.
“That was nice,” she purrs and lies back down on my chest.
“Still thirsty?” I ask after a few minutes, hoping she’ll say no. I don’t want to move.
I don’t know what I expected all those times I fantasized about fucking her, but it wasn’t this.
It was about the need to feel myself inside her.
To have her sweetness on my tongue, her wetness wrapped around me.
My fingers making her moan, my cock making her scream.
But it wasn’t this… after. This…more.
It wasn’t the satiation of the urgency, only for the need for her to grow even stronger after.
Everything…feels more.
The need to envelope myself in her scent and know it to its molecular structure, to tangle myself in the mess of her hair, keeping me tethered to her.
“You okay?” she asks back.
I let out a forced exhale.
I might not ever be okay again.
One hour later, she’s sitting on the couch, wearing my crumpled shirt with a single button done up, legs tucked under her, her hair still wet from the shower we just took together, munching on the other half of the sandwich I made for her.
“But if you’re all directors of a different region, couldn’t the company just run that way and forego a CEO altogether?” she asks, glancing at the whiteboard that I commandeered from the conference room to use for her lessons.
“Well, it’s not as simple as that. The corporate governance structure of Baxter entails that we have a CEO to direct company-wide strategy direction. Even though there is a lot of autonomy and separation between the regions, Baxter Enterprises is still one company. And we need one united direction.”
She jumps to her feet and skips over to me. Stretching up onto her tiptoes, she can’t quite reach my lips with hers, so she grabs the back of my head and pulls me down to her height, giving me a quick kiss. She tries to run back, but I grab the back of the shirt and pull her back to me, kissing her deeply until we’re both panting, her collapsing against my body as she drags air back into her lungs.
And then I kiss her again, growling her name against her lips.
She laughs and pushes my chest hard until I have to break the kiss, and she skips away before I can grab her again.
