Between The Sheets. P.J. Mellor
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the back where there would be plenty of room to sit next to his Realtor. Plenty of room to stretch out on the long, black leather seat. Plenty of room to do any one of the myriad sexy things popping into his fevered brain.
She motioned with the fluted glass in her long-fingered hand. “There’s a carafe of mimosas in the bar. Pour yourself a drink. I thought we’d go over our itinerary for today, along the way to our first showing.” She was quiet while he poured his drink, then patted the seat next to her. “Come here, Junior. It will be easier for you to see the pictures.”
“No, thanks, I want to be surprised.” He gave a tight smile and leaned back, his arm along the back of the plush seat in an effort to look relaxed.
Her eyes widened along with her smile. “Fine with me. It gives me more room to stretch out.” She kicked off one high-heeled shoe and turned, propping her bare foot on the seat, her skirt riding up her slender leg.
Connor held his glass in a death grip. He knew he should avert his eyes, but they seemed to have a will of their own. And they insisted on feasting on the erotic sight before them.
Andrea gave a knowing smile and leaned back a little more, the action causing the smooth lips between her legs to part ever so slightly, beckoning him.
Connor gulped back the rest of his drink and sloshed some on his hand in his haste to pour another.
His gaze darted back to the luscious skin beneath Andrea’s skirt. Swallowing, he grabbed a piece of ice from the bin in the bar and ran it along his forehead.
Good Lord, he was a dead man.
“It’s okay,” she said in a soft voice.
His gaze flew to hers.
She pointed downward, then stroked the spot he’d been desperately trying to ignore.
“It’s okay to look.” She canted her hips for his viewing pleasure. “Or touch.” She dipped her index finger into her mimosa, then dragged it along the plump lips begging for his attention. “Or even taste,” she finished on a whisper.
Tempting. To say her offer tempted him was a gross understatement.
The question was, did he have the strength or willpower to resist what she was offering? Did he even want to resist?
“I know you’re interested.” He followed her gaze to the pup tent in the front of his shorts. “I know you enjoyed what happened yesterday just as much as I did.” She spread her legs as much as her skirt would allow, unapologetically stroking her moist core. “C’mon, let’s play a little before we get down to business.”
His Realtor disappeared. In her place sat a siren, offering him solace. Offering him sex. Her musky scent filled his nostrils, intoxicating him more than his recently ingested drink.
His mouth watered.
He slid from the seat to his knees on the carpeted floor, then slowly made his way to the back of the limo.
Andrea swallowed, holding still when all she wanted to do was squirm to ease the ache between her legs. An ache, miraculously, only Connor O’Brian seemed able to appease. Finally—finally!—he was close. Close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her engorged labia.
It made her impossibly wetter.
She wanted to tell him to take her, suck her, do whatever he wanted to do to her as long as he did something besides look at her.
But a part of her resisted, wanted to prolong the sexual stimulus of being so close to getting satisfaction. Just the thought of what might happen had her poised on the brink of an orgasm.
Beneath her silk tank, her breasts ached for his touch, her nipples drawn into hard, stiff peaks of anticipation. She wanted to flick open her jacket to show him she was braless. To show him how her body reacted to his nearness.
But she didn’t want to appear too eager, too needy. Power was the name of every game, and sex was the ultimate power game.
It was imperative she remain the one in control.
She dipped a shaking finger into her mimosa and again painted her swollen labia. “Taste me,” she demanded, even though her voice cracked a little.
His green eyes met hers a moment before dropping to look beneath her skirt.
The air in the back of the limo seemed stifling. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. A quick glance confirmed they were still hidden by the privacy screen. As discreetly as possible, she slowly reached until she could flip the lock, preventing Cody from interrupting them.
She bit back a groan at the feel of Connor’s hot hands easing up her legs, pushing her skirt higher and higher until it bunched around her waist.
He skimmed his hands up and down her inner thighs once, twice, three times.
She clamped her mouth shut to prevent herself from demanding he give her some much-needed satisfaction.
Just when she thought she might scream her frustration, he nipped her clitoris with his teeth.
Her breath hitched.
He closed his lips over the nub, sucking it deeply into the wet heat of his mouth, his tongue swirling in maddening circles.
Her hips arched off the seat. She dug in her heels, clutching his head close, gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes shut in her effort to breathe and stave off the impending climax rushing toward her.
She might have succeeded had he not chosen that moment to slip one hand under her top, squeezing the hardened tip of her nipple at the same time his other hand slipped a finger into her.
What was a girl to do, faced with such a delicious onslaught of sensations?
Arching off the seat, anchored only by his hands, a guttural sound filled the back of the limo—it took a second to realize it had come from her. Nipples at attention and puckered in painful points, her uterus contracted violently, sending wave after wave of pleasure washing through her.
When her heart resumed beating, she opened her eyes. Connor was still on his knees, his hand still between her legs, his fingers still deeply embedded. Eyes bright, he moved his thumb, brushing her swollen, still-aching nub with the pad while staring into her eyes.
“Thank you,” he whispered. His hand beneath her tank top resumed its petting of her breasts, his other hand still busy.
Thank you, she wanted to say, but her throat still refused to obey her commands for speech.
She tried to back away from the mesmerizing stroking of his hands but found her muscles too weak at the moment.
“Ms. Redd?” Cody’s voice echoed through the car from the speaker.
She had to clear her throat twice but finally managed to answer. “Yes?”
“The first property is up ahead on the right.”
“Thanks, Cody.” She shoved her skirt down reasonably in place and then looked at Connor, who had taken a hand towel from the bar and was mopping up the evidence of her orgasm.
Cheeks flaming, she silently cursed her stupid decision to go pantyless. Whatever had she been thinking?
Connor reclaimed his seat perpendicular from hers as he made a quick adjustment.
By the time Cody rolled to a stop and threw open their door, all was in order.
“I’ll buzz you when we’re ready to be picked up,” she told her driver as he helped her from the car.
“I can wait, ma’am, since I’m yours for the day.”
“That’s not necessary. Really.” Her spine stiffened. Was that a smothered laugh she heard from Connor? She leaned closer to the chauffeur and lowered her voice. “Some clients have a problem relaxing and telling me what they really think of a property when there is someone waiting.”
“Ah.” Cody