Between The Sheets. P.J. Mellor
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her game. His friends were always ragging on him to take a chance, indulge his baser instincts. A glance at his Realtor caught her giving him the once-over. She was obviously interested in showing him more than a beach house. At least he thought so. Wasn’t she?
No doubt about it, he’d been out of circulation for too long.
Andrea could practically smell the testosterone wafting from Connor. Ordinarily, she kept business and pleasure separate. Besides being too young, he was not her type. But that didn’t seem to dull the sharp edge of lust she felt just by being in the same room.
Her gaze took a leisurely journey from his bare, flip-flop-clad toes up long, powerful-looking legs to lean hips. A little thrill of excitement zipped through her, hardening her nipples, when she eyed the obvious bulge in his cargo shorts. It was stupid to react so strongly to his virility.
It could be professional suicide.
He stepped closer, the hardened tips of her breasts grazing his firm chest again, sending little jolts of electric awareness shooting to her extremities.
It could be worth the risk.
“What do you think? Do you like it?” Damn, her voice sounded weak and airy. “W-would you like to see the rest?” She bit back a smile when she saw his gaze was directed down her cleavage.
Now she understood the term heaving bosoms. Hers were definitely heaving, her breathing labored, while her panties grew wet. What was happening to her?
It was ridiculous.
Slowly he raised his hand to trail the blunt tip of his index finger between her breasts, down between the cleavage created by her push-up bra. His actions made her breath lodge in her throat, her heart race.
It was dangerous. The man was a client, not to mention a stranger. A young stranger.
“Oh, yeah,” he said in a low, seductive voice as he dipped his finger beneath her décolletage to graze her turgid nipple. “I’d definitely be interested in seeing the rest.” With that, he flicked the front closure of her bra open, palming her eager flesh.
It was beyond thrilling.
It was not professional behavior. She should push him away and cover herself instead of standing there, clamping her shaking legs together, while her thong dripped her excitement. And she would. Soon. It had just been so long since a man—any man—had touched her like that.
He bent and took her puckered nipple deep into his hot mouth, his tongue swirling around and around in maddening circles with each deep pull on her sensitized flesh.
Her breath hitched and she had to lock her knees to remain upright. She knew it was wrong to allow him to continue, but damn, it felt so good.
As a result, she made no objections when he tugged her shoulders free of her suit jacket and pulled her open bra off over her head, along with her tank top.
Against her will—well, it should have been against her will—her hands found the closure of his shorts. In no time, he stood before her, magnificent in his nudity.
He reached for her, and she went willingly into his arms, glorying in the tactile pleasure of her breasts pushed against the warmth of his chest.
She gave a little sideways movement, dragging her erect nipples back and forth against his, her stilettos making her close in height.
The heat of his erection nudged her abdomen, sending a thrill shooting through her that was out of proportion with her experience.
His mouth claimed hers, his lips soft at first, then harder, more demanding, as he took possession of her suddenly hungry mouth. His tongue swept her mouth once, twice, before she captured and sucked on it, earning a deep-throated moan. It may or may not have been from him.
Still kissing her, he hooked his thumbs in her now-unzipped skirt, easing it down over her hips to pool around her ankles.
He broke the kiss and stepped back to look at her as she stood before him in her stilettos and black silk thong.
It made her nipples pucker even tighter, if that was possible. She resisted the urge to cover her breasts with her hands. She’d worked hard to keep her body firm and fit. If the expression on Junior’s face was any indication, she’d succeeded. Proudly, she straightened her shoulders, glorying in a sexual urge she’d thought deserted her.
Connor sank to his knees in front of her, trailing hot kisses from her breast downward.
Sun streamed in through the bay window, warming her back. He hooked his fingers under the strings on her hips and began tugging, his hot breath warming her front more than the sun streaming through to bare windows warmed her back. The sun…oh, no!
Her hands shot out to grasp his wrists.
Breathing hard, they looked at each other.
Although Connor had obeyed her nonverbal command, his fingers toyed with her damp folds while he waited, still holding the thin sides of her thong.
Andrea all but moaned at his touch, wanting nothing more than to sink to the dubious cleanliness of the carpet and let him take her away to a place she had not visited in a long time: sexual bliss.
She closed her eyes, gathering strength to stop him.
Her breath caught when he plunged his finger deep within her wetness. Goose bumps sprang up on every inch of her skin, her nipples puckering to painful points. She couldn’t help herself; she gyrated her hips, grinding against his hand, pushing his finger deeper.
More…she wanted, needed more. And, Lord help her, she wanted it with Connor.
Connor must have taken her action as the go-ahead, because he resumed tugging at her panties.
Once again, she reached out and stopped him. “Not here,” she managed to croak out of her parched throat, “someone might see us.” She jerked her head in the general direction of the bare windows.
A frantic glance at the kitchen had her cursing the trend in open-concept designs.
Connor knew he was not leaving the house without fucking her. They’d gone too far to stop now. At least he had, and, judging from the wetness dripping down his hand, she was right there with him. “Bathroom?” Even in a house like this, there had to be a way of closing off a bathroom to gain privacy.
“The master is down the hall.” Andrea pointed a shaking hand over his shoulder.
He scooped her into his arms, pleased when she wrapped her long legs around him, reveling in the feel of the stiletto heels scraping the small of his back, and almost ran down the hall.
“What?” Andrea said, turning her head when he stopped and cursed at the door of the master suite. “Damn open concept!”
Connor couldn’t believe his—their—luck. The master bedroom sprawled right into a huge master bathroom that was totally open. “There’s a door.” He headed toward a narrow opening on one end of the bathroom. The rub of wet silk against his cock was delicate torture. If he didn’t get relief soon, he’d explode.
“It’s a water closet! We’ll never fit in there,” she objected, but he tightened his grip, stepping into the miniscule area and closing the pocket door.
There was barely room to slide her down his body. Each millimeter was excruciating. Sexual torture.
“My wallet,” he finally gasped, “there’s a condom in there. Damn! I can’t believe I left it in the other room.”
Andrea paused. Was it a sign to stop what they were doing? She glanced down at the shiny purple head bobbing against the trembling flesh of her abdomen. Hell, no.
“I’ll go get it.” She reached behind her, feeling for the recessed door handle.
“Wait.” He pulled her tightly against his sweat-slicked chest. “Kiss me good-bye.” He covered her mouth in a kiss that had her all but climbing up his strong body. She whimpered