Page 82 of One Night

"Quiet," he demands but in a kidding tone.

"I can't," I whisper, my head falling back as his hand moves faster under my skirt. "Unless you stop what you're doing."

"You want me to stop?" His hand stills, leaving me aching, throbbing.

"No. Please. Don't stop."

He chuckles again, and moments later, he finishes what he started, leaving me completely spent, my legs struggling to hold me, my chest glistening with sweat.

"Fuck, that was hot," he says as he kisses me. His hand is still under my skirt but now on my ass, supporting me, keeping me pressed against him. Feeling his erection, I grind my hips into him.

"Amber," he moans.

My heart is thundering in my chest, fearing we'll get caught. And yet I love the feeling. It's a rush, and makes me feel alive. Like when I used to do gymnastics. When I'd do a really tough routine, one that pushed my skill level to the max, I'd always get a rush. And when it was over, I craved to do it again.

"We can't do this," Dylan says, but he's still kissing me, still gripping my ass. "Not here. Unless..." He presses into me and I feel his erection, hard and ready. "Unless you really want to. I'm not against the idea. I just..."

"You're right. We can't. I'm not really thinking clearly right now."

He smiles. "And why is that?"

I laugh. "You know why." I finally get control of my brain and push him back. "We have to get out of here." I quickly button my blouse and notice him watching me. "Did you plan this?"

"Getting you off in the supply closet?" He smiles. "Not really. I mean, it wasn't my initial thought. I walked past here earlier and saw the janitor getting supplies. And then you got here and I was looking across the desk at you and suddenly all kinds of dirty thoughts ran through my head, of us, in this closet." He shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a guy. I think about sex every six minutes."

"Every six minutes? Seriously?"

"Not sure. I've never timed it. The number came from a show I was watching on men's health. Apparently there's research to support the claim."

"How do guys get anything done?" I tuck my shirt in. "Okay I think I'm ready."

"You're not buttoned right." He points to the middle of my shirt where the fabric is bunched up.

"Crap." I quickly yank my shirt out from my skirt and start fixing the buttons.

He leans against the door. "How often do girls think about sex?"

"I don't know. I don't think there's any statistics on that."

"What about you?" He comes up to me and buttons the last button. "How often?"

"I have no idea. Depends on the day."

"How about today?" He tucks my shirt in, his hands slipping under the waistband of my skirt. I'm already feeling aroused again. "How often did you think about it today?"

His eyes are on mine and I can't seem to look away. "A few times."

"What's a few?"

"I don't know. I didn't count."

"More than normal?"

"A lot more." I feel my face heating up. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but since dating Dylan, I feel like I think about sex constantly. And after what he just did to me, I'll be thinking about it even more.

Instead of continuing his line of questioning, he just gives me his sexy smile.

"Ready to go?"

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