Page 17 of The Tryst

There’s something I need to do though. I reach for the clip in her hair and undo it, letting all those gorgeous locks fall. “Mmm. Beautiful,” I say, then hand her the clip.

I scoop her up, carry her to the bed, and set her on it, but she places a hand on my chest. “Wait,” she says, then slides off all her rings and sets them on the nightstand, along with the clip.

I suppose jewelry can get in the way if she plans to slide those fingers through my hair. And if I’m doing things right, she will be.

She returns to the edge of the bed, fingers naked and smile irresistible.

I kneel in front of her on the carpeted floor, my hands covering her knees, my fingers playing with the hem of her short dress. “Want to know what I was thinking when I was onstage this afternoon, talking about seizing opportunities?”

“Yes,” she says, trembling with palpable excitement.

She presses her palms flat against the bed, her spine lifting those glorious tits higher like she’s welcoming me, inviting even more touch.

All the touching.

“This,” I say, dragging out the word as I push up her dress to her waist. Her white lace panties are soaked. I groan. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“You did it to me.”

“Then let me do something about it,” I say, sliding my hands along the soft flesh of her thighs.

“So, you’ve decided what to do to me?”

“I did.” My plan is to tease her. To tease her relentlessly. To tease her till she begs. But I don’t tell her that.

Ishowher.

I drag the pad of my index finger along the wet cotton panel of her panties.

A gasp. A tremble.

“I lied to you, beautiful,” I say, a dirty admission.

“You’re so bad.”

“I’m fucking terrible. I decided a long time ago what to do to you. I decided this afternoon,” I say, drawing a line back up her center, just enough to make her arch her back and seek me out. “When I was speaking about my three-pronged strategy for evaluating risk and you were crossing your legs at me.”

On a shudder, she asks faux innocently, “I was doingthat?”

Another stroke down her panties, then I dip my face, blow a hot breath near her center. When I pull back to meet her gaze, her blue eyes glitter with desire.

“Oh, you know what you were doing. You were taunting me,” I say, spreading her legs open.

“I suppose I was.”

“And I decided then, too, that I was going to punish you for all that torture,” I tell her and turn my face to her inner thigh, rubbing my beard along her tender skin.

She whimpers throatily, then manages a feathery, “How, Nick? How?”

As I whisk my stubble along her thigh, she lifts her hips up, inching toward me, offering me that gorgeous pussy.

This greedy, beautiful woman. “By teasing you. Making you beg for it. Making you demand I taste your sweetness.” I press a kiss to her leg at last, then run my nose along the seam of her panties. Close, so close, but not quite.

She shudders, her hands grabbing at my hair. She’s begging with her body.

Yes, fucking yes.

“Please, Nick,” she says, but her voice is different now. The temptress seems to have slinked away. Now, she’s almost shy, a little innocent.

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