Page 23 of More Than Words

Shit.

I just gave Dickhead a blow job on a business trip with no warning, and I think I liked it.

If the state of my panties was any indication, I fucking loved it. And I loved the dirty things he said while I was doing it.

But what the fuck?

Not wanting to make this more awkward than it already was, I gathered up my messenger bag, found my room key in the outside pocket, and palmed it as I pulled the strap over my shoulder.

He was still propped against the door, trying to catch his breath. It was now or never—time to beat and retreat.

Really, it was too bad he was an epic jackass half the time. He’d been surprisingly almost sweet in how he touched me while I had his dick in my mouth. Not what I’d expected at all. The package or the way he’d let me take charge. I’d expected hair pulling or holding my face, not the tender way he’d stroked my cheek and begged me to let him come with his filthy mouth.

But that didn’t matter, because I needed to figure out how to get him away from the door so I could return to my room. I had a very pressing matter to take care of.

I reached for the door handle and his hand shot out, loosely grasping my wrist while his eyes lazily focused on my rigid posture.

“Going somewhere?”

Oh God, did he expect me to have sex with him now?

“I need to get ready for dinner tonight. But this was...fun.” Cringing at how awkward that sounded, I tried to push down the lever on the handle, and his hand tightened.

“We’re not finished here.” Pushing off the door, he stood to his full height and stepped forward until my shoulder was pressed into his solid chest. The solid chest I’d seen glimpses of in the gym at work, but I hadn’t bothered to uncover it in my desperation to pull down his pants.

“I think we are. We’re good. Just...consider this a truce.”

He chuckled, leaning in toward my ear, his breath warming my neck. “So, you’re telling me if I put my hand down your panties right now, you wouldn’t be wet, your little pink clit throbbing for release?”

Bonus points for Adrian. He knew what a clit was.

“Not anything I can’t take care of by myself,” I squeaked.

“But you shouldn’t have to take care of yourself, Is. I want to. You don’t know how often I’ve dreamed of bringing you pleasure. How desperate I am to watch you fall apart at my touch.”

“It’s not a good idea.” My voice was still high, my body shaking from the adrenaline of what I’d just done.

“Please don’t shut me out,” he whispered, trying to tilt my face toward his with gentle fingers. But I couldn’t do this. There was no way I could sort through my conflicting feelings right now, and if he touched me… I wasn’t sure there would be any coming back from that.

“I… I need to go.”

I escaped, pushing the lever and slipping through the open door before he could catch me. I had the advantage of my pants not being around my ankles, so I quickly swiped my key card against the lock. Slamming the door before he could come after me, I collapsed back against it and panted, chastising myself for whatever had possessed me to do that.

Don’t get me wrong, it was hot, but letting things go further was bound to blow up in my face, and not like the blowing I had just done.

ADRIAN

Bar Harbor, ME

Was Isobel fuckin’ kidding me with this? She’d literally tilted my world on its axis, seemingly out of nowhere, and then just left. Fuck that shit.

Reaching down to pull up my pants and boxer briefs, I fastened the zipper and button, my belt still hanging loose, before I made a beeline for the door that separated our rooms and threw open the one on my side. I was glad we had adjoining rooms for once, because I wasn’t letting her run away that easily. I could pound on her door all afternoon if she didn’t answer. But considering the raw neediness I saw in her eyes when she fled, I had a feeling that would dampen her plans to touch that wet clit I teased her about.

“Open the fuckin’ door, Isobel,” I growled before I thumped the side of my fist against the solid wood. She could run, but she certainly couldn’t fucking hide, and my mouth was watering at the prospect of tasting the result of her almost torturous blow job. She’d been completely into teasing the shit out of me, and I knew I was right when I said she was throbbing. You didn’t give head like that if it didn’t turn you the fuck on.

“I can bang on this all fuckin’ day if I need to,” I shouted while I continued to pound. “Don’t make me pick the lock. It’s been a while, but I can do it.”

I hadn’t picked a deadbolt since I’d been in high school, likely when I was along for the ride on one of Hutch’s dumbass pranks, but I still remembered how, and I was pretty sure the metal clip from one of my pens would do just fine in place of a picking kit.

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