Page 15 of Winning Bid

“And is that why you’re so friendly with the concierge?” I ask pointedly.

“No.” He doesn’t offer any explanation. Again.

As if I’m going to let this drop. It’s like he doesn’t know me at all. “So, is Melanie an ex?”

Anderson chuckles. “Erm, no.”

“But you’ve slept with her.”

“Is that a question?”

“Is that an evasion?”

He grins, staring at the doors as they open. “Counselor, I have never slept with her.”

“Had sex, whatever. Don’t wordplay your way out of this one.”

“No. I have never had sex with Melanie the Concierge.” He gestures for me to enter the elevator. So, I do. Once the doors close, he mutters, “However, I have watched her have sex with two other women.”

“Oh my god! You could have?—"

But he cuts me off with a kiss hot enough to peel paint. He backs me into the corner of the elevator, and I’m wedged there, trapped by his big body and the walls. He reaches up my dress, and I am officially scandalized that he’d do anything like this in the elevator. My blood screams in my veins as his hand slips higher up my thigh, past the top of the thigh high. His fingertips breach the edge of my underwear so methodically that he has me trembling like a leaf. When his finger slips around my clit, the elevator stops.

But it's not our floor yet.

9

JUNE

He drops my dress back into place and spins around so he’s behind me now, and we look like any other normal couple. It’s a good thing, too. A pair of ancient seniors walk in. We might have given them matching heart attacks.

They follow elevator convention and turn around to face the doors after giving us smiles and curt nods, so Anderson takes the opportunity to raise my dress in the back enough to slide his hand over my ass. Oh my god. I take a stiff breath in. I have to hold still, or they’ll know, and he is making it impossible, the pervert.

I am marrying a pervert who likes to play in public. My stomach ties in knots, and I can’t tell if I’m into this or not, but parts of me like it. A low-down throb makes my vision fuzzy.

More people walk in, but this time, Anderson doesn’t stop. He merely holds still. Their view of us is mostly blocked by the little old couple. I hope.

Once they turn around, his fingers slide into my underwear again and traipse between my thighs from behind. One enters me. There’s no resistance. I’m so damn wet right now. I try to shudder subtly, but he is a man of many talents, and I am too wound up. Goosebumps break out all over, and if anyone turns around, they’ll see … something. I don’t even know what. My nipples pebble and press against my dress. Thank God it’s black, so things are less noticeable in case someone looks.

Anderson’s newly wet fingertip glides around until he skirts around the other hole. Oh god. He’s not—yes, he is.

I can’t breathe. His fingertip has entered me in a way he never has before, and it’s all I can do, not to moan loud enough for everyone to hear me. I cough just to relieve some of the tension in my chest. But his fingertip is still up my ass, and I am about to squirm for him.

People file out when the door opens again, and then we’re alone. But who knows for how long? Thankfully, the last floor is ours, and he releases me just in time for us to get out. The moment we’re out, though, he backs me against the wall and kisses me until my toes curl. Then he snatches my hand and drags me down the hall.

Two can play at this game.

I give him a shove to the wall and pounce on him, taking his mouth for my own. He growls as I bite his bottom lip and pull back. Then he turns my back to the wall and presses himself against me. His hard cock nudges me down low, making me shiver hard again. Between kisses and bites, he murmurs, “I’m fucking you tonight. Not the other way around.” Then he backs off and holds me at the small of my back, directing me to the room he clearly knows so well.

As soon as we’re in, it’s on. Anderson drops the bag and kneels in a flash, pushing me against the back of the door. It’s still dark in the room, but I can’t reach the light. Not with him dipping beneath my dress face first. I don’t even care that it’s dark. Not when he’s in a mood like this.

Anderson unclips my thigh highs and pulls my underwear off over them. They puddle at my feet, and he slides them from my ankles, flinging them somewhere. He lifts my leg over his shoulder and opens me up to him. His tongue glides over me, and I groan, digging my head against the door. I have to hang onto something, or I’ll fall, so I settle on the door handle and his head beneath my dress. As soon as I make contact with him there, he growls on my clit.

“Mm, fuck, baby, that’s?—"

And that is when his fingers enter the picture. While he sucks on my clit, his fingers stroke up and down me. It’s such a fucking tease not to let them slide in, especially after how he touched me in the elevator. I’m not sure when the last time was that I was this wet. My knees threaten to buckle, but I know he has me. He’s gotten stronger every day. I am less worried about hurting him now. Saturday night was a good trial run. Now, I’m excited to get back to the way things were.

Or to make them even better than before.

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