Naughty Bits 2 (35 page)

Gathering her long hair in his hands, Adrian lifted it up from her neck so he could watch her working his cock. He adored the way she played with him, sucking and pulling him into her mouth until he could barely stay balanced on his knees.

He pulled out, grasping his shaft, milking it, tracing the wet tip around her swollen lips. “I like to watch, you know,” he said darkly. “It's a compulsion of mine. Will you indulge me, Emmy? Will you let me watch you sucking my cock?”

Her eyes flared and he grunted in satisfaction as she made a great show of sliding her tongue along him. The pointed tip of her tongue slashed across the opening of his cock, and she put it inside, tasting a drop of him. He brushed the tip along her mouth, dominating her with his hand along her neck. He was beyond aroused, and, heightening his pleasure, he gripped himself, masturbating before her as she sucked and pulled him deep in her mouth.

“That's it,” he hissed, “take all of me in.” She worked him hard, gripping him, and the sounds her mouth was making drove him wild. “Will you swallow it?” he asked, feeling it rushing upon him. “Will you take me inside you?”

She did, and he literally saw stars.

“Emmy,” he said, falling back on the bed, “come to me.”

He didn't wait for her to answer, but pulled her on top of him. She placed her hand palm up against his and they stayed like that, palm to palm for long seconds before he entwined his fingers through hers. “I thought I could wait. I thought I could make this the most beautiful hour of your life. But I can't, Emmy.”

Flipping her over onto her back, he held their entwined fingers
above her head. Catching her gaze, he thrust once, deeply inside her, feeling her body stretch to accommodate him.

“Fuck,” he growled, watching himself enter her. Slowly he retreated, then thrust forward, repeating each stroke with slow determination, deepening every thrust. Her body met his, undulating beneath him. He thought it was the most amazing, most erotic thing he'd ever seen, watching himself making love to her.

Amelia had never felt this—this oneness of mind, body and spirit. As they looked into each other's eyes, Adrian's hand gripped hers tightly while his body slid into hers. Amelia knew, as her body took him in, that she would never, ever, feel this connection with anyone else.

He looked so beautiful, so peaceful as he made slow love to her. Tears began to fill her eyes, and she closed her eyes, not understanding why she had started to cry.

He kissed her, nipping at her lips until she raised her lashes and looked into his eyes, which were now unguarded. A tear crept out, dangling on the edge of her lash. She blinked, letting it slide down her lashes till it splashed onto her cheek. He took it between his lips, kissing the tear away before he whispered, “This won't be the only time for us, Amelia.”

How did he know? How could he have seen through to her heart to know the fear she clutched inside?

“It is just us here in this bed, Amelia. No master or servant. Emmy,” he growled, nipping her neck, “come here.”

Lifting himself off her, he rocked back and brought her up until she straddled his thighs. His arms came tightly around her, pulling her close to him until there was no space between their bodies. As he brushed the hair from Amelia's dampened cheek, Adrian paused and looked down at her. He'd never before been struck by the beauty of lovemaking—the graceful movement of a female body in motion beneath him. He'd never taken the time to savor every sound, to watch as lips parted on a silent
moan, or a plea for more. He'd never studied how lashes glittered in the candlelight or fluttered open and closed.

He'd never felt his heart fill with emotion, or his soul come alive when eyes, glazed with passion, met and held his. He had never made love until he reached for Amelia's hips and set her back from him, encouraging her to watch him enter her body. She watched, wide-eyed, as his cock filled her, and her body took him in and loved him.

When he could no longer fight off the desire to spill himself, he pulled her to sit atop him, wrapping her thighs around his hips while he buried his lips in her hair. His hands squeezed her lush bottom, forcing her up and down, driving her to take all of him.

He'd never experienced love until she clasped his head to her breasts and clung to his hair, her hips moving instinctively as
she
made love to
him
.

 

“What?” he asked, laughing as she looked up from where she was kissing his belly. Licking her lips, she smiled sheepishly.

“I think I ate the entire box.”

Together they looked at the empty pink box and the ruffled wrappers that were strewn about the bedclothes. The black ribbon that had been tied around the box was still wrapped around her wrist.

“Did you enjoy them?”

Her blush grew, but she did not look away from him. “I did. I have never had chocolate before. The butter cream ones were my favourite.”

“I enjoyed watching you eat them, every last one. Now, what of my other gift?”

“The book,” she said flatly.

“The book.”

“Would you read it to me?”

“No. I will teach you to read it, and then you can read it
to
me
while we are in bed, and
I am
eating expensive French chocolates off
your
naked body.”

She laughed and rolled off him, her long, red hair trailing across his chest and belly. He watched her, laughing and rolling about the wrinkled white sheets, and thought about how he had wanted this all along. This easy contentment. The peace that came with being nothing more than a man.

“I've changed my mind,” he announced. “Hand me the book.”

He watched her rise from his bed and fetch the book he had brought from her room. When she handed it to him, he reached for her wrist and brought her down to him.

“What's this?” she asked, pulling out the white strip of canvas he had tucked between the pages. When she saw what it was, she looked up at him with glassy eyes.

“This is…is this…” she swallowed, unable to finish.

“It is you, standing before the angel that morning I first saw you at Highgate.”

“You painted this for me?”

When he nodded, she began to cry in earnest. She looked away, flustered that he was witnessing her in such a vulnerable state. She busied herself by opening the book to the page where he'd tucked the scrap of canvas.

He stayed her hand. “I know this passage off by heart, Amelia.”

When she looked up at him with her watery eyes, free of her spectacles, he needed to touch her. Trailing the backs of his fingers along her cheek he recited the poem. “‘I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out.'” His voice was broken by the time he finished. “Elizabeth Barrett Browning might have written it, Amelia, but I mean every damn word of it.”

S
ASKIA
W
ALKER

WHY WAS IT THAT HER SCENT REACHED HIM ALL
the way across the room? Liam O'Neil glanced over at the pretty blonde software engineer on the far side of the open-plan office. Wherever he was, he could smell her perfume. He could also invariably see her, and feel her intense scrutiny.

Mostly it was because she was stalking him.

Chrissie Stanfield crossed his path whenever she got the chance. Apparently she had to check out what he was up to numerous times a day. Even when he was under a desk installing new cables, he'd see her stroll by, and he'd have to pause whatever he was doing to admire her legs.

He lifted his head and smiled at her when he caught her looking his way. Ruffled, she looked away without acknowledging him.

Too late, you little minx, I caught you.

Right from day one, Liam knew she was onto him—or thought she was. His current post was undercover, investigating security and a possible leak from a top-notch banking software design company. Someone was stealing and selling their code. It wasn't Chrissie, much to his relief. It certainly livened up the job having her to look at, though.

Right now her annoyance at having been caught showed.
Her lower lip projected ever so slightly, giving her the cutest pout, and it made him want to hold her. Preferably in a long, slow, horizontal grind. She was petite and blonde, her body physically compact in a way that suggested he could put her on his lap. Naked, ideally. She was also tough as old boots and fiery—hellish fiery. What would she be like in bed, with all that fire and sass on full throttle? It gave him a hard-on just thinking about it. He shook his head. Just as well he was on top of this project already, otherwise she would be a dangerous distraction.

Despite his preoccupation with her sexual personality, he could also tell she was annoyed there was something between them; the fire in her eyes told him that. So did her annoyance when he tried to chat with her. There was no hiding it. It was the sort of clash that flared up when you wanted someone you didn't want to want. He bided his time. He had his job to do, but it was fun watching her stake him out. They were two of a kind in that respect. If she wanted to stalk him around the office, he wasn't about to argue, because she was closing in, and he was waiting for her to pounce, just so he could turn the tables on her.

 

“He's got a great body, the new IT bloke, hasn't he?”

Chrissie looked up when she realized someone was speaking to her. Theresa, her boss, stood over her desk, glancing down at her with an amused expression.

Theresa nodded her head in the direction Chrissie had been looking. “Or were you admiring his brain power?”

“I hadn't noticed,” Chrissie lied. “But there's something about him that bothers me.” She was annoyed, because she had hoped she was being subtle. Even so, she couldn't stop herself looking back at Liam again. He was squatting at a PC base unit next to a desk some thirty feet away from hers on the other side of the office. His position gave her a perfect view of his
physique under the soft cotton long-sleeved T-shirt and tight black jeans he wore. Some part of her instinctively knew he'd be well worth having, doing the business between her thighs. What on earth was wrong with her? She didn't normally notice whether a man's rear end was fit or not, but the rear end she was currently looking at was fit in a way that grabbed her attention. The very shape of it made her hands itch to touch him. She ran a finger beneath the neckline of her top, allowing cool air to circulate underneath the fabric. Where the hell were these thoughts coming from?

“You got the memo from head office,” she added, “we need to be vigilant.”

Theresa gave a knowing smile. “He's too new.”

Chrissie flashed her eyes at her boss. “Maybe not—I've checked out the dates, and I don't trust him.”

“You're very observant.” Theresa winked. “You just go right ahead and keep your eye on him.”

Chrissie pouted at her boss's back.

She couldn't deny he was an attractive man, though. What did that prove? He was up to no good, she was sure of it. Something about him was suspicious, and more annoyingly, something about him was vaguely familiar. If he was the software thief—and she was pretty sure he was—then maybe she'd seen him somewhere else, maybe at a convention. He'd want to see the people who worked here before he infiltrated the workplace.

They'd been asked to be vigilant. A rival company had put out code suspiciously like theirs only days before theirs went on the market. The board couldn't be sure, but someone on the inside might have stolen the software in production. It had to be Liam. First she'd had her eye on Ted Warburton as the possible thief. He'd always been a quiet, secretive type. Liam had quickly replaced Ted on her list of possible suspects. She glared at him, her annoyance multiplying when he smiled
over at her, casual as anything. Damn cheek. She looked away, both suspicious and hating the effect he had on her. It was hot in the office today, that's what it was. It always made her horny. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, squeezing her thighs together. Liam just happened to be there, that's all.

It was the fact he was out of place that magnetized her attention, had to be. The man looked as if he pumped iron for a living. In their business-park office on the outskirts of London, where the other employees tended to be geeky types, that was unusual. He was a distraction that was beginning to get under her skin. Her panties were damp, her pussy on fire.
Bastard
. Not for the first time this week she was going to have to sneak off to the ladies toilet to masturbate. It wasn't something that had ever happened to her in the workplace before.

“Can I get you something?” It was Liam.

Her back stiffened.

“I'm doing a deli run,” he added.

“No. Thank you.”

He put both his hands on her desk, leaning over in the most provocative way, looking her up and down as if it was her he was about to devour, not the mega-stuffed baguettes he seemed to favor. “Are you sure I can't tempt you?”

She felt herself blushing, her pale skin making her far too easy to read. “No.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Shame. I'd like to see you giving in to temptation. I bet it would be quite something, all that restrained fire…unleashed.”

She hated her body for the way it responded. Between her thighs, her pussy ached for some of what he seemed to be offering, a vigorous session between the sheets. But he was the wrong sort of bloke to get mixed up with, she was convinced of it. Unable to sit still, she rearranged herself in her seat, gripping onto the hem of her miniskirt to steady herself. “Don't hold your breath, it's not going to happen.”

“Don't be so sure.” He grinned.

Frowning, she gave him a stern look.

“That pout of yours is hellish sexy,” he added, then shook his head, still smiling, and walked away.

Pout?
She'd meant to look disapproving. Apparently she couldn't even trust her own facial expressions when he was around. Feeling slightly demented, she glared at his back. He was so sure of himself, his hips rolling as he walked with a steady, easy gait, broad muscular shoulders shifting beneath his shirt. Power, he oozed subtle, intoxicating power. The man was pure machismo. That, and the way he looked back at her over his shoulder—dark eyes insinuating and filled with sensual humor—made her dangerously aroused.

It was no good, she decided, the midsummer heat had got to her.

Standing up, she headed off to the ladies', pretending not to hear what was said to her as she passed a colleague's desk. She wasn't in the mood for chitchat. Luckily there was no one else in the ladies' cloakroom. Darting into a cubicle, she shut the door and put her back up against it. Wedging one sandaled foot against the toilet seat she cursed men in general—and Liam in particular—and moved her hand between her thighs, the hem of her skirt edging up as she reached under it and her palm closed over her pussy. She squeezed tight for relief, her hips rocking backward and forward, the pulse in her core beating out erratically. Staring at the wall with unseeing eyes, she chafed her clit through her lacy undies, her mind filling with images of Liam, over her, inside her, possessing her, telling her how bad she needed it and how he was going to see to it she got it.

He'd left the building, and still he got to her. Cursing low under her breath, she shoved her hand inside her undies where the groove of her pussy was slick, and rubbed her clit. She could almost hear his voice, that insinuating tone, and she
imagined him looking at her while she did the dirty deed in the loo. Latching a finger inside her sex, she pressed the palm of her hand on her clit, pushing herself closer to climax. He'd enjoy it, of course he would, he was just the sort of man who'd want to watch a woman masturbating. Her sex clenched, her standing leg faltering. Heat built inside her, a wall she had to break through for release, and when it came it spiraled through her groin then raced over her entire skin while she moaned lowly, hating the man who made her want him so.