Between The Sheets. P.J. Mellor
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the land-speed record, running to the living room and grabbing his shorts, practically tearing the pocket in her haste to get his wallet.
She paused, her natural curiosity warring with her sexual urge to finish what they’d started. Clutching the sun-warmed wallet to her breasts, she looked at their clothes, scattered in the afternoon sun on the worn carpet of the empty house. The sight elicited tingles that skittered up and down her labia, the result further drenching her thong and tightening her nipples. Tamping down all the reasons why it was a bad idea to continue, she pulled several condoms from his wallet, dropping it back to the floor.
Hell, she’d gone this far; she may as well finish what they’d started. She kicked off her shoes and ran back to the bathroom.
Connor was waiting for her, his erection bigger than when she’d left, if that was possible. He grabbed a condom, ripping the foil open with his teeth and sheathing his penis in record time.
Before she could comment on his speed, he grabbed her arm, pulling her into the little room and sliding the door shut as he lifted her.
Her knee bumped the door trim. “Ouch!”
Her head banged against the closed door when he slid her panties down and attempted to align his heat to her opening.
“Sorry. Here. Put your leg on my shoulder.”
“I can’t get my leg out far enough to put it on your shoulder!” She felt like crying. “This isn’t going to work, is it?” Damn, she wished the needy ache between her legs would subside.
“I’m an engineer. I can make it work.” He slid his warm hand down her leg, making her shiver. “Trust me.” He grasped her ankle and gently lifted until her foot touched the closed commode lid. “Relax.” He slid his finger up and down her folds, making them plump and moist again. “Look,” he whispered, “look at how pretty you are down there.”
She glanced down, intrigued at the contrast of his masculine hand against her most feminine parts. Parts that were open and fully exposed. It was wicked and decadent, thoroughly unprofessional and naughty, to say the least.
She loved it.
The heat of his fingers combined with the heat of his breath whispering over her erect nipples increased her heart rate, her breath coming in shallow pants while she watched him pleasure her.
He plucked at her engorged clitoris, causing it to swell and darken, her excitement making it glisten in the limited light from the tiny window above the toilet.
Her hips began moving involuntarily, in an age-old rhythm, seeking sexual gratification.
His finger slid into her aching folds, seeking the part of her weeping for him, and impaled her.
She found what she’d been seeking.
4
Andrea trembled in his arms, her flesh vibrating against his as her climax washed over his hand. Her knees gave way, but he managed to hold her up with one arm wrapped around her bare back, his finger still deeply embedded. His dick twitched as he indulged in petting her clamping, slick folds and kissing her forehead, touching her everywhere he could reach while she calmed down.
He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her wet, welcoming heat. But he also wanted her to be with him every second, sharing the experience, the bone-deep satisfaction, the…Oh, man, what was he thinking? Well, obviously he wasn’t, to even consider having sex in an empty house. With his Realtor. Worse, to attempt to have anything close to gratification while standing in a miniscule toilet area.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. Hell, yes, he wanted her. In fact, he couldn’t honestly remember ever wanting a woman more than he wanted Andrea Redd. But he’d be damned if their first time was going to be in a cramped bath of an empty house.
He wanted to spread her out on the king-size bed in his hotel room, to feel the soft rub of her skin against his while he explored every delectable inch of her before finally sinking to the hilt in her honeyed sex.
He closed his eyes to block the erotic sight of Andrea, naked, with one foot raised high for his viewing pleasure, while he took deep breaths to try to calm down. If he continued looking, he knew he’d want to keep touching her. And it wouldn’t stop with just touching. The thought of it made him shake with need. He’d been too long without sex, but even a sex-starved geek had to draw the line somewhere.
Shuffling alerted him to Andrea’s movement. The cooler air wafting around his sweating torso told him she’d moved away from him. Well, as far away as one could move, given the confining space.
“Relax, Junior.” Andrea’s voice sounded harsh, detached, the breathy sexiness from just a few minutes ago completely gone. “I’m not going to ravage you.” The sound of the pocket door opening shot through the little room. “Now, be a brave boy, open your eyes, and go get our clothes.”
She gave a little shove, then a slight tap on his butt as he turned to exit the bathroom.
He wanted to assure her that ravaging was the furthest thing from his mind, unless it was him doing the ravaging. Actually, he wanted to tell her more than that, but she’d already pushed him out and closed the door again.
He looked down. What a waste of a perfectly good condom.
“You are such a nerd,” he grumbled, stripping off the condom as he stalked into the living room. Bending to scoop up their clothing, he looked at the wadded condom in his hand. He would toss it, of course, but just leaving it lying around in an empty house wasn’t going to work. Besides, it might damage Andrea’s reputation or business if someone who knew she’d shown the house found it. After throwing on his clothes, he shoved it in his pocket. If he didn’t find a better place, he could always dispose of it in his hotel room later.
His knock on the pocket door sounded timid, even to him, but the change in Andrea’s attitude was a little scary. Not that he was afraid of her—it was just an awkward situation, and now that he thought about it, she was probably embarrassed. Which would account for the way her arm shot through the opening to grab her clothes before slamming the door shut again.
Seconds later, the door reopened and Andrea stepped out, looking once again like the consummate professional. Except for her bare feet.
The bloodred polish on her toes flashed in the sunlight. Lord, she even had sexy toes. He shifted to accommodate his renewed arousal.
She evidently noticed the direction of his gaze. “Where are my fucking shoes?” Was that a hint of tears in her voice?
Mute, he pointed toward the living room, swallowing as he watched her walk purposefully in that direction. Damn, she had a fine ass. The thought of how it had felt to touch the firm smoothness…No, he needed to stop remembering what had happened.
At least for now.
Andrea blinked back stupid tears as she fumbled with her shoes. What the hell had just happened? She’d worked damn hard to get where she was, and fucking a potential client just to get a sale was low, even for her. She’d never really minded being referred to as a wolf in her pursuit of sales. But this…It could have meant professional suicide. It could have led to disastrous consequences. It could have been…the most ecstatic experience of her life.
Eyes closed, she took a fortifying breath. Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been working your ass off and haven’t even had the time to consider recreational sex. You just need to make time for a hot sexual encounter. Something that doesn’t require batteries. Soon. She stiffened at the charged awareness when he touched her shoulder. Very soon. She opened her eyes, schooling her features against the emotions she saw in his boyish face. But not with him, damn it.
“If you’re willing to take on a fixer, the owners might negotiate on price. What do you think about this place?” she asked, reaching for her briefcase. “Any interest in looking at the rest of the house?”
Not unless there is a bed in one of the rooms for us to test drive.