Page 42 of All Twerk, No Play

I definitely didn’t expect her to exhale a soft curse, then use her grip on my wrist to tug me closer.

And the last thing I expected was for her to press her lips to mine.

Shocked, I stilled. Her mouth lingered, her warm breath on my lips until she started to retreat. Then my brain caught up to reality. My grasp tightened and I kissed her back. She sighed into my mouth, still gripping my wrist between our chests in the world’s lightest restraint. Her free hand ran up my neck, giving a little tug on my hair that ran down my spine to my cock.

Her mouth was soft yet demanding and so, so sweet. Her tongue swept along my bottom lip, and as my erection pressed into her stomach, a soft groan rose from her throat. She was gonna kill me with those little noises.

Victoria released my wrist, her smooth palms exploring every muscle on her way to my ass. She tugged me closer until her back hit the wall, caging herself in. Her chest arched into mine, hard nipples covered by her silk shirt against my bare chest. I slid my lips along her neck and ran my tongue over her pulse point, feeling her heartbeat in time with the music.

“Shit,” she whispered, tilting her head to give me better access to the long column of her neck. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Totally,” I hummed against her skin. “Remind me why not?”

“Your—” she exhaled sharply as my teeth scraped against her neck, her fingernails digging into my bare back. “Your no tenant policy.”

“Right,” I moaned into her jaw, her hips jerking against mine. What a stupid idea that had been. How could I get out of it? “Not relevant.”

“How do you figure?”

I kissed behind her ear. “Between floors. No man’s land. Doesn’t count.”

She huffed a laugh as her fingertips reached between us to loosen her blouse from her pencil skirt. I greedily slid my hands under the fabric and asked, “Is this ok?” She moaned her consent, arching into my hands as they rose along her ribs and up the sides of her breasts.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about your tits that night. You in my bed,” I confessed, skimming over her bra, her nipples hardening underneath my thumb. ”I laid awake for hours, thinking about how much I wanted to do this,” I said, lifting the blouse to run my lips over her bra. She gasped as her back arched, the crown of her head banging against the wall.

I peeled down the fabric to lick her skin, coaxing her nipple into a wet peak. Her hands cradled the back of my head as I swirled my tongue around her swollen tip, bringing my free hand up to flick and pinch the other side. “Open that gorgeous mouth. Sing for me.”

Her mouth released a low, raspy cry. When I pinched her nipple the sound intensified, sending an electrical signal straight down to my cock.

“Good girl,” I said and her breath hitched. Why am I not even a little bit surprised that Little Miss Ivy League has a praise kink?

I bet her pussy is a teacher’s pet. I bet it wants to earn all the gold stars.

My palm trailed down her ribs, but when it grazed her waistband, her breath hitched self-consciously and her shoulders curled protectively.

I froze.

Her neck snapped forward. “Stop.”

I immediately removed my hands, leaning back.

What just happened?

“Turn off the music.”

I tapped my airpod, dropping us into silence.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tugging her silk top down. RIP, gorgeous tits.

“No problem,” I said, stepping back. “We’re good.”

She touched her puffy lips. “We … we can’t do this now. Not yet.”

Not yet. So not all hope was lost.

“Okay,” I said, raising my hands in surrender.

Her hands fidgeted on her neck. “I’m sorry, I can't—”

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