His Secretary:Undone(19)

"That's right." He's almost panting. There's no way he can hold back for  much longer, and I know I've got that on my side, at least. "This is  your punishment, remember? You don't come unless I tell you so."

Okay, so, this was one of the hottest elements of his books. I remember  it well. I loved reading about it, but damned if I ever wanted to  experience it. Every other man I've been with had enough trouble getting  me there in the first place; orgasm denial was never in their lexicon.  Adrian obviously doesn't have that problem. He's confident enough to toy  with me.

But how far will he take it?

I can break his resolve. I'm confident of that. Smiling to myself, I  squeeze my inner muscles tight. It almost triggers my own climax, it's  that close, but I'm able to hold it back. For now. Adrian groans,  twitching deep inside me. A moment later, he jerks out of me, and  delivers one more solid smack. I yelp, more at the loss of his cock than  anything else.

"Bad girl," he whispers, and I hear the soft noise of the condom being  discarded, the rapid sound of skin on skin, slicked with my wetness.  "You know what this means, don't you?"

I can guess. Every part of my body's throbbing and as much as I want him  inside me again, oh God, I want him to claim me. I want the mark of his  come on my skin, such a potent and unmistakable message after I spent  the evening with those cover models.

I want to be his.

I'm not stupid. I know that's not really what it means. I know it's just  a primal urge, he just needs to come somewhere and he's on a fucking  power trip.

"Yeah," I whisper. "So fucking do it, then. Mark your territory."

He pitches forward, grabbing my shoulder with his free hand. "You want it?" he whispers.

"Fuck yeah." I lick my lips. "I'm all yours, Sir."

The noise that comes out of his mouth is unholy. My pussy clenches, and I  feel the wet splashes on my back, my ass. Fuck fuck fuck. I could  almost come from that sensation alone, and I feel a gush of my own  fluids answering him, trickling down my thigh.

Adrian plunges three fingers inside me, very suddenly. "Now," he commands.

I'm done for.

My body seizes up with pleasure, I'm shouting, trembling, and it feels  like it goes on for ages. When it's over I just want to curl up in a  ball, but I know I'm a sticky mess, so I force myself to my feet and  face him. He's smiling.

"I really thought you were gonna make me wait longer than that," I tell him.

"So did I." A wicked half-smile. "But you were so lovely, offering yourself up to me like that. I thought you deserved it."         

     



 

And then he grabs my head and kisses me.

This, I realize, is our first kiss. It's appropriately perverse that it  should happen now, and he's smearing my own juices in my hair, and his  jizz, too, probably. Did it get on his hand? Which hand? I've been on  the pill for a while, so I'm not unduly worried about some of his seed  getting inside me, but I wonder how careful he was.

When he pulls away, I wipe my mouth and grin at him. "You know if you knock me up, that kid's gonna come out with horns."

"It didn't get inside you, I promise," he says. "But I won't be offended  if you want to take a morning-after pill. Or perform some kind of black  magic ceremony. I'm not really sure what's appropriate under the  circumstances."

"Relax. I'm on the pill. And for future reference, unless I've been  visited by an incubus since my last checkup - not counting you, of  course - then I'm still squeaky clean." I hug myself, feeling the  wetness slide between my thighs. "Metaphorically speaking."

"Ah. Me too," he says. "Except it would be a succubus, right?  Hopefully." He makes a silent gesture that I interpret as an invitation  to join him in the shower, which sounds like a spectacular idea.

"Why does it matter?" I ask him, laughing, as I follow him into the  bathroom. "They're both trying to suck out your soul through your dick."

"I don't know. What if I wake up in the middle of it? I feel like I'd  handle it better if it was a female demon, at least. Just one less thing  to deal with." He turns on the water. "I sound like an idiot, don't I?"

"Yup." I laugh at him, stepping out of my skirt. I've got his rapt  attention now, and normally I'm a little shy the first time I undress in  front of somebody, but he's looking at me like I'm a glass of  perfectly-aged bourbon he can't wait to get his lips around. "Though I  guess there's always that chance the incubus is gonna go knocking on the  back door. Less likely with the succubus, unless she's the full-service  variety."

To his credit, he doesn't look embarrassed. "What finishing school did you attend, again?"

I take off my bra, and while he's staring, I flip him off with both hands.





Chapter Nine





When I wake up, it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am.  There's the usual oh, I'm not at home realization, quickly followed by  oh, I'm not in my own room, either. Which is, of course, immediately  followed by:

Right, I slept with Adrian last night.

And he didn't kick me out, so, that's something.

There's no sign of him anywhere, though. All his stuff is here, so it's  not like he fled in the night, but on my trip to the bathroom and back I  don't spot any sign that he was here recently. Yawning, I climb back  into bed and snuggle under the covers. There's still a while before  morning sessions, and I don't care about most of them anyway. I slept  like a baby after last night, somehow, but I'm still tired.

I have no idea how late we stayed up. I could already see the gears  turning in his head, revving up for Round 2, as I stripped down for the  shower. We "washed" each other, then made out for a while until I was  practically humping his leg, at which point he took mercy on me with  those very, very skilled fingers. As much as I appreciated them, I still  wanted the chance he'd robbed me of earlier. And I finally got it, when  he took me to bed.

So yeah, maybe that's why I'm still so sleepy. I could go back to my own  room, but having left the connecting door locked, in my infinite  wisdom, I've eliminated the possibility of doing so without getting  dressed. And that sounds like a hassle and a half.

The sound of the door clicking open shakes me out of my dozing. I push  myself up on my elbows, squinting at Adrian as he walks in.

"Morning," he says, smiling. I feel a little twinge of relief in my chest. "Any thoughts on breakfast?"

"Some." I'm flirting with him. I can't help it. His groin is basically  at eye level as he approaches the bed, and it would take superhuman  willpower not to think about the possibilities. "Why, what do you have  in mind?"

He grins. "I'm trying to think of a way to make a 'hair of the dog' joke  that's not going to come across badly. So far, no dice."

I keep expecting the room to go cold and quiet, the way it did in the  pool. But he pauses by the bed, his fingers brushing my leg under the  covers before he drops a shopping bag in my lap.         

     



 

"What's this?" I frown at it, unfolding it slowly to reveal the  contents. I have to spend a couple minutes blinking the sleep out of my  eyes before I can process what I'm looking at.

Panties. Sensible ones. But not too sensible - little black boyshorts,  cute but practical, and one hundred percent cotton so they'll actually  stay where they belong. I look up at Adrian with genuine gratitude in my  eyes, but something in his face deflects it before I can say what I  want to say.

"These are too small," I tell him, instead.

He tilts his head slightly. "You can't possibly know that without trying them on."

Rolling my eyes, I clamber out of bed, trying not to notice how his  whole body language changes while he drinks in the sight. I'm still  wearing his discarded shirt, and I know, for whatever reason, that  drives guys completely insane. It doesn't hurt that I might as well be  naked. It's not even remotely big enough to be decent, so he's getting  an eyeful, but there's just enough of the crisp white fabric to be a  little bit of a tease. Something tells me we're not going to make the  morning conference sessions.

I step into the boyshorts, shamelessly, and have to shimmy a little bit  to get them up over my hips. But if I keep them riding low, technically,  they fit.

Advantage Risinger.

He looks me up and down, licking his lips. It's pretty obvious he  dressed in a hurry this morning, to sneak out and get me this little  gift, so his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and his hair's falling  out of place in a way that's practically inviting me to grab a handful  and guide him home.

Advantage Burns.

"I win," he says, closing the tiny distance between us. He tilts his  head to mine but he doesn't kiss me, not quite, and I'm grateful for  that on account of my morning breath. But something tells me he's not  going to care. "Now, Ms. Burns, I just watched your pupils go the size  of dinner plates while you stared at me. You want to share what's going  through your head, or do I have to run down my arsenal until you  surrender?"