Page 51 of Love to Hate You

As we walk out of the Silver Network offices a little after 5:00 p.m., Charlie is glowing, and I can’t help but bask in it. “You’re fucking amazing,” I tell her.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says. “When you came in with that spiel about how you increased numbers for your old company that clinched the deal. How can anyone say no to more revenue?”

“You can’t.”

We laugh and pause on the sidewalk, feeling like a million bucks. For two people who never saw eye to eye and fought the majority of the time, we’ve certainly come a long way. “What do you think? Should we go out and celebrate somewhere? Have a little bubbly?”

“I think it would be wrong not to,” she says.

We end up going to a fancy place right up the street in Beverly Hills which caters to a lot of celebrity clientele. I could care less what movie star walks past that white picket fence right now because I only have eyes for Charlie. The glow on her face and happy smile makes her beauty increase tenfold and my mood soars.

I love seeing this side of her and we order a bottle of champagne and dinner that’s far too expensive, but we just saved TB Tech millions of dollars. And earned a couple million more in the process. I think dinner on the company is well-deserved and earned.

All through dinner, I can’t pull my eyes off Charlie whether she’s talking, eating, drinking or laughing, she has my full attention. Every little move she makes captivates me in a way that steals my breath just a bit more than usual.

We’re a little giddy after drinking the whole bottle of champagne and when we get back to the hotel, I can’t pull her into my arms fast enough. The door is barely closed, and I haul her against me and consume her mouth in a passionate kiss.

I scoop her up and Charlie wraps her legs around me as I stumble toward the bed, lips locked with hers. When she pulls back and starts unbuttoning my shirt, I release her and she slides down my body. “Take your clothes off,” I say, voice low and full of anticipation. “Otherwise, I’m going to rip another shirt off you.”

Heat flares in her blue-green eyes and we both strip down so fast it’s almost comical.

“I’m taking my time with you tonight,” I whisper and reach around to unhook her lace bra. “Lay down.”

Charlie stretches back on the bed, and I hook my fingers in the edges of her panties and slide them down her long, slim legs. Then I grasp her hips, drag her to the edge of the bed and drop down between her legs.

She lifts her head, chest rising and falling faster with each breath, as I spread those luscious, creamy thighs of hers and lower my face. The moment my lips start kissing the soft inside skin of her legs, she gasps and tries to twist away.

“No,” I say and hold her in place. “You’re not allowed to move.” I lick up higher and her entire body tenses. “Not until I’m done tasting you.”

“Nash,” she moans.

When I get to her core, I pause and lightly blow before lapping up her folds. She cries out and I circle my tongue around her tight little bud, sucking it into my mouth. Her entire body bucks up and I slide a finger inside her, then another, moving them in and out, working her hard, increasing speed and pressure. My other hand covers her lower stomach and the moment I push down, she shatters.

The orgasm leaves her shaking and I move up her body and capture her mouth in a long, slow kiss, making her taste herself. She tastes too good not to share. “You smell like vanilla,” I whisper. “Who knew you’d taste like it, too?”

“What?” she asks, a blush heating up her cheeks.

“Your pussy tastes like a fucking vanilla ice cream sundae and I can’t get enough of it.” I drop my hand back down to stroke her. “So creamy and delicious.”

Her eyes slide shut as another orgasm ripples through her body and I groan when she bites down on my shoulder. I’m so fucking hard it hurts and when she reaches down between us to work my boxer briefs off, my throbbing dick can’t wait.

The moment she takes me in her hand, I swell even more and I’m ready to burst.

“Get the condom,” she whispers, working pre-come from my tip until it glistens.

With a groan, I roll away and dig through my suitcase for the box. I grab one and toss a few more on the nightstand.

“How many do you think we’re going to need?” she asks in an amused voice.

I tear the packet open with my teeth and the edge of my mouth lifts up. “Yippee-Ki-Yay, motherfucker.”

“Another ‘Die Hard’ line?”

“Yep. Seems fitting since I plan on riding you all night, baby.”

“You can be quite the dirty-talker.”

“Do you like it?”

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