Desk Job (London Menage Book 2) (7 page)

“Oh…” I curled my toes, clenched my fists. “Yes…”

He touched the tip of his nose to mine and scooped his arm beneath my shoulders, holding me closer still.

“Fuck me,” I whispered.

“No, I’ll make love to you.” He pulled his cock almost out, then eased back in.

My already sensitive G-spot sent a zing of pleasure around my body. I gasped.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Never … better.”

“Glad to hear it.” He rubbed his groin up against my clit.

Again I groaned. I’d just orgasmed but another could develop pretty damn quickly if he kept doing that. “More.”

He kind of chuckled but it was strained. Then he pulled out and smoothed back in, catching all the right places in me and on me.

I held him tighter, pressed my face against the side of his neck and bucked my hips to meet his.

He set up a steady rhythm. I matched it by moving with him.

Soon our sweat had made our chests slick, the air was hot with our breath and climax was the only goal.

“Fuck, I can’t last,” he said, then moaned into my hair.

“So … come…” I was there, it just needed one … more … thrust.

“Urgh.” He pushed in, harder, faster than before and reached down and gripped my thigh.

It was my undoing and my climax claimed me. I pulsed and spasmed around his shaft.

He grunted, dug his fingers into my arm and leg and released into the condom. The groan that wound up from his chest and throat was long, low and primitive.

I clung to him and snuggled my face so close into his neck my nose became squashed. His smell, his body pressing me into the bed, the satisfied noises, it was all something I could enjoy forever.

“Stella,” he said into the shell of my ear.

“Mmm…”

“Have you any idea how much willpower that took.”

I kind of giggled though it was hard with him pressing on me.

He lifted up. “I could have come on the first stroke.”

“Well in that case.” I was struggling to catch my breath. “You did very well.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He smoothed the hair from my brow.

“More than think so, I’m feeling very satisfied.”

“Well, I aim to please.”

“Oh you did.” I slid my hands to his ass and squeezed. “Twice.”

A flash of pure male pride flashed over his eyes.

Damn it, I’d gotten lucky.

“Will you stay the night?” he asked. As if to persuade me, he eased his cock out and then in again. “I’d like you to.”

I sighed. “Your powers of persuasion are hard to resist.”

“Good.” He pulled out then settled next to me. He reached for my hand and threaded our fingers together, held them up between us. “It won’t get weird, will it?”

“What?” I asked.

“That we have to work together.”

“It won’t be weird for me.” I hoped it wouldn’t be anyway.

“Good.”

“In fact…”

“What?”

“It will be perfect because I’m in charge of your diary.” I turned to study his face. “And…”

He frowned briefly then smiled. “Ahh, I see. You can manage our time together.”

“Our dates, exactly.”

“Good, schedule them in frequently and make them a top priority.” He lifted up and set a kiss over my peaked nipple. “Because I can’t imagine I’m ever going to get enough of being with you.”

Chapter Six

When I woke I was briefly disorientated—the large room, ceiling to floor drapes and the silky sheets all unfamiliar. Then I heard soft snoring behind me and turned.

Andre was sleeping, one hand lay beneath his cheek and his hair zigzagged over his brow.

I propped onto my elbow and gazed down at him, enjoying being able to study him in his unguarded state. A sliver of light poured through a crack in the curtains and slashed over his face, highlighting his big but perfectly straight nose.

It was certainly a face I could get very used to waking up next to.

He must have sensed me staring because he shifted, murmured, and then reached for me.

“Morning,” he said sleepily as he scooped me close, my head just beneath his chin. “Sleep well?”

“Very.” He hadn’t opened his eyes so I guessed there was no rush to get up and going for the day. Happily, I stretched my naked body alongside his, enjoying the warmth of flesh on flesh.

“I could get used to waking up like this,” he said, pressing a kiss to my hair.

His cock, thick and hard, nudged at my thigh. I slid my hand over his abs, through his pubic hair, and then took his shaft and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Yes, I can tell this agrees with you.”

“
You
agree with me.” He moaned softly. “And your hand on me feels amazing.”

I smiled, my cheek bunching against his collarbone. I could do so much better than just my hand.

Lifting slightly, I kissed my way over his chest, my breasts pressing on him as I slithered lower.

“Stella,” he murmured.

“Shh…” I dipped my tongue into his navel, loving the way his stomach tensed to granite as I did so. Smiling as I kissed lower, I pushed at the duvet so I had better access to his cock.

God he was beautiful. The perfect male specimen.

I held his cock upright and slid my tongue over the slit. It was salty and as smooth as silk.

“Mmm…” he moaned, running his hand over my hair.

I circled the root and took his glans into my mouth. I knew he’d be getting a good look at my butt in the air as I sank onto him, taking him deeper then deeper still.

“Ah fuck…” he gasped.

I was aware of him tensing as I wrapped my tongue around his shaft. I paused for a moment then set up a steady rhythm, up and down, fucking him with my mouth, my lips a tight seal around him.

He ran his hands gently through my hair, gathering it so it didn’t get in the way of what I was doing.

Before long, I tasted pre-cum. His shaft was thick and engorged. He wasn’t far from coming.

I looked up at him, without pausing.

He stared down at me. His mouth parted.

For a moment, our gazes connected, and again I wondered what he thought of the erotic view.

I guessed he liked it because his cock twitched and more pre-cum coated my tongue.

Lifting, I caught his shaft in my hand and continued the fast speed I’d set up.

“Stella,” he said, pushing to his elbows. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow and sternum.

“Come,” I said, cupping his balls as I worked his cock.

He gritted his teeth, pulled back his lips, and watched my hand which I was moving so fast it appeared blurred.

He was near, I could tell, his flesh like concrete and oh, so wonderfully hot in my palm.

“Oh God…” he groaned. “It’s here.”

My heart raced with the excitement of seeing him about to topple into release. “Yes…” I said, not letting up.

A shot of pearly liquid burst from his slit, landing wetly on his abdomen. “Ah … yeah … yeah…” His eyes were glazed, his breaths rapid.

Another spurt of release followed, then another. Each one accompanied by a moan.

My pussy was damp, my nipples tight. It was so erotic, giving Andre a hand job and having him surrender his pleasure over to my control. I hoped we’d be able to have much more fun like this in the future.

Suddenly, he grabbed my arms and spun me to the bed. He dropped over me, pinning my wrists at either side of my head.

I giggled as his warm cum spread against my belly.

“Are you trying to finish me off?” he asked with a smile.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re too damn sexy for your own good, and seeing you do that before I’ve even had a coffee…”

“Ah, you can take it.”

“You reckon?”

“Yeah, you’re a big boy.” I waggled my eyebrows.

He laughed. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be big again for you.”

“Hold that thought because now you’ve mentioned coffee. That’s what I want next.”

He bit on his bottom lip. For a moment, he appeared to be thinking about disagreeing with the plan, then he kissed the tip of my nose and stood. “Good idea. I’ll go and get it started.”

“Can I shower?”

“Sure, it’s just through there.” He tugged a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers from a drawer and slipped them on.

I was sorry to see his cute ass covered up but figured I couldn’t have him naked the whole time, it just wasn’t practical.

After he’d wiped his belly with a tissue, he left the bedroom.

I investigated the room Andre had indicated. It turned out to be a huge ensuite with cream tiled floor and walls, a vast walk-in shower, and a separate room that held the toilet.

There were plenty of towels so I flicked on the water and stepped in. I was careful not to get my hair wet, I didn’t want the hassle of drying and styling it.

I found a shower gel which had a spicy, manly scent, and used it. I was a little tender between my legs, but I liked the sensation. It reminded me of the fun we’d had the night before.

After drying and borrowing some of his deodorant and brushing my teeth with my finger, I put on my underwear and dress. It wasn’t ideal Sunday attire, but what choice did I have?

As I headed down the stairs, the scent of coffee hit me and my stomach rumbled. A hissing sound was coming from the kitchen.

Andre was fussing over a frying pan, bacon was cooking, and two mugs of coffee sat on the island.

“You’ll burn yourself,” I said, taking the spatula from him and nodding at his bare stomach.

“Yeah, not my most sensible idea.”

I smiled. “I would say go and get dressed but I have no problem with you wandering around nearly naked, so I’ll cook this.”

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder then reached for a coffee. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I took a sip. It was seriously good.

“So what plans do you have today?” he asked then took a drink of his own coffee.

“I need to get home.”

He frowned. “Straight away?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a hungry mouth waiting for me.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“My cat, Lullabelle, she’ll be wondering where her breakfast is.”

“Lullabelle.” He smiled.

“Yes, and she’s very fussy.”

“Like her owner?”

“Well I can’t deny that I’m fussy about men and coffee.”

He pushed his hand through his messy hair. “And how am I doing?”

“Well this coffee is perfect.”

He tilted his head and studied me.

“And you’re doing okay so far, too.”

He laughed. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Except for…”

A line furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Your memory. You have a flight in a few hours to Barcelona.”

“Oh, fuck.” He glanced at the clock. “I…”

“You would have forgotten?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Possibly.”

I moved the bacon off the heat.

Suddenly he was behind me, his arms around my waist and his mouth against my ear. “I guess I was just having such a nice time with a beautiful, sexy lady that the rest of the world stopped existing for a while.”

We ate bacon sandwiches then Andre called me a cab. Within an hour I was letting myself into my apartment.

“Lullabelle,” I called.

Meow.

She appeared from the living room, her walk lazy and her greeting indignant because she’d been left alone for so long.

“I know, I know,” I said, scooping her up. “I’ll feed you now.”

I took her into the kitchen and prepared her favorite salmon meal to get myself back into her good books. As she ate, I changed into lounge pants and a sloppy t-shirt. I intended to make the most of a quiet Sunday and enjoy the memories from last night.

How had I gotten so lucky?

Andre was a perfect man. Handsome, kind, funny, intelligent and he made me feel on top of the world.

As I meandered through the channels, looking for a chick flick to lose myself in, the doorbell rang.

When I answered it I was greeted with a huge bunch of red roses, three dozen at least, maybe more, all set within delicate white baby’s breath and wrapped up in black tissue paper.

“Wow,” I said.

“Ms. Stella White?” the small man holding the flowers asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Can you sign.” He offered forward a small silver device.

I used the stylus to scrawl my name.

“Who is sending me flowers?” I asked.

“There’s a card in there.” He handed them over, then turned and quickly left.

I breathed in, hoping to inhale their scent, but the buds were still tight and I couldn’t detect a fragrance.

After shutting the door, I found the small black envelope and peeled it open one handedly.

Stella

I’m so happy that you’ve come into our lives.

Missing you already.

Andre xxx

A ball of emotion tightened my chest. I was missing him too. It would be several days before he was back in the office. It would be strange there without him.

And when he did come back, would things change at work? Where would our relationship go? He was my boss. I’d started his day with a blow job…

It would be fine. He’d said it would be and I trusted him. He’d done nothing to make me not trust him and I was the sort of person who always saw the best in people, unless they showed me a reason not to.

I found a vase for the flowers, and, reluctant to throw away the expensive paper they’d been wrapped in, spent ages arranging them with it draped over the sides of the glass. They were lovely and as I settled back on the sofa, I found myself staring at them rather than the TV. A smile had set itself on my lips and a warm feeling had taken up residence in my chest.

I was happy. Happy and falling in love.

Who would have thought so much could happen in a week? And would I still feel this way next week, when Tristan Wainwright returned to the office?