Hot and Bothered(34)

                He found himself backing her up against the door of her office, and he didn’t realize he’d found her thigh under her skirt until his fingertips reached the top of her thigh-high stocking. Above the squeeze of the elastic, her skin was soft and warm. His cock throbbed, painfully hard against his fly.

                Now she’s going to make me stop.

                She could have made him stop. All she would have to do was flinch or hesitate. Probably she could have cooled his ardor by being merely cooperative, lukewarm.

                But there was nothing lukewarm about Haven right now. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping his fingers in the softness there, and he stopped breathing for a second. Stopped moving.

                She grabbed his wrist and moved his hand higher.

                Holy fuck.

                His fingers traced an edge of lace, slipped under, found a fuzz of hair, then her sweet, damp heat. He kissed her again, and her mouth slid against his, her tongue parrying and retreating, flirting, urging. When his fingers touched her opening, she moaned, and he had to brace himself against the wall and take a mental five seconds.

                Both her hands were on his fly now, grappling with the button and working the zipper down.

                I’m going to fuck her against the door of her office and she’s going to let me.

                She bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and he pushed her more forcefully against the door, crushing her hands between them. She kissed him harder. The sounds she made were quiet but intense, as if she were aware of her secretary outside but unable to stop what was bubbling up from inside her. It was quite possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.

                She’s not going to stop me.

                He didn’t understand. Not completely. Why would a woman like Haven Hoyt let herself do what Haven was doing, let herself lose control, let herself want a man like him? She pressed her pussy against his hand, his middle and index fingers inside her, her clit slick and swollen against his thumb.

                “You are the hottest woman I’ve ever met,” he said, because it was the truth and he couldn’t help but say it.

                Now she had her hand in his briefs, around his cock, and oh, God, what was she doing? Licking her palm and sliding it around the head, slipping down and trapping his cock against his abs. It didn’t make sense that Haven, who didn’t look like she could tolerate having a hair out of place, was making everything so insanely wet and slippery. He couldn’t even catalog it all, the slip-slide of her mouth on his, the slick wetness between her legs, the ease of her hand jacking him higher and higher, almost frictionless with saliva and skill.

                She was going to make him come, and he wasn’t a hair-trigger kind of guy. He prided himself on his control, on his ability to draw things out and make them good for a woman. But if she didn’t stop that, he wouldn’t be able to sort out the sensations, catalog them, control them. They were going to consume him and break him open from the inside.

                She broke her mouth free of his, suddenly. “I’m coming,” she gasped, unnecessarily, because he could feel the spasms against his fingers, feel her hands on his cock become frantic. He wasn’t stopping her, she wasn’t stopping him, neither of them was stopping this madness, and air hissed from her throat, a silent scream, her face buried against his chest. His orgasm boiled up from his toes, harsh, gripping, almost painful, his cum spilling over her fingers.

                For a few moments afterward, he almost believed it would be okay. He was limp with satisfaction and relief, his legs barely holding him up, and he told himself in that moment of starry, stupid bliss that it hadn’t been a colossal, braindead, unprofessional—what had she called it?—weapon of mass destruction to the foot. That, as out of control as she’d seemed, Haven had actually been in command of herself and had made a decision that she could live with. He hoped she’d lift her head now and smile at him and they’d joke around but also acknowledge the seriousness of the connection they’d forged. This sort of thing didn’t happen all the time. You didn’t want to do it again three seconds after you were done, not usually, not—