Page 65 of The CEO Enemy

21

SEAN

We wind up at her place.

Jess and I abandon the hotel in a hurry. She leaves her car behind in favor of riding in mine. With my hand on her knee, I speed the entire way as we keep exchanging knowing glances. The redness hasn’t left her face and there’s a sparkle in her eyes. Both are driving me crazy. I want to make her even more disheveled, panting, and needy. I have to feel her tightness around me again as soon as possible.

After a lively visit to a sushi drive-through, where she declares to the drive-through guy, “Hold the avocados, please!” I swiftly order the avocado-free version for both of us. Soon after, I pull into the garage.

By the time we get inside, I’m ready to explode. The sushi gets tossed into the refrigerator as an afterthought as clothes are shed, bodies are grabbed, and we stumble our way into her bedroom.

I need her again. Right this second. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want her. I want her to writhe beneath me, moaning my name as I fuck her all over the apartment. When I finally get her into bed, sprawled out underneath me like I’ve been imagining, I don’t waste any time.

Kissing my way down her body, one hand holds me up while I slip her hardening nipple between my lips. Her back arches beautifully into my touch. Those smooth legs of hers slide around me, and I know in that second that I want them over my shoulders as soon as possible. I leave a trail of wet kisses between her tits, down the swell of her stomach and then finally her wet folds.

Her moans fill the room the second I descend between her legs. She’s soft and warm, sweet on my tongue just like before but so much more addictive. After the days of torment, I know this isn’t going to be a one-night thing. I don’t want it to be.

I’m addicted to the way she touches me.

I’m addicted to the sensation of her kisses on my lips.

I’m addicted to the sound of her calling my name.

Despite her urging voice (and despite my urging cock), I dial down the speed and frenzy.

There’s no rush and no chance of being interrupted so I’m able to go slow.

I have to take it slow, I tell myself with determination.

I know her, but now is when I’m able to learn her, figure out what she likes and how she likes it.

So I take my time, drag out her pleasure until she’s begging for more.

I kiss her, I lick her, I tease her into oblivion. “See how perfect you are for me?” I rumble.

“Yeah…” she whispers.

“You were made just for me.”

Her back arches and her hands twist the bed sheets when she comes.

I drink it all in. The image is burned into my mind, and I know I’m never going to forget it. In the dim lamplight, she’s cast in an ethereal glow, appearing more angelic than human. I commit the image to memory as I kiss my way up her thighs, along her stomach, between the valley of her tits, which I stop to pay extra attention to. She runs her hands through my hair, and I hitch her legs around my waist while my tongue lavishes her pert, pink nipples. Only when she tugs my hair do I continue my journey upward to her neck.

“I want to be on top,” she breathes.

“Go for it,” I encourage her.

There’s movement, and I find myself on my back with her straddling my waist. She grins proudly and I tuck my hands behind my head, smirking at her.

“I’m surprised you still have the energy to move so fast,” I say. “I must not have done my job right.”

“Oh, you did plenty right…my knees are still quaking.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Don’t look so smug.”

“I’m allowed to be smug.”

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