“You don’t mind the commute?”
“Nah, I stay in the city when my schedule’s crammed, but I like to go home and stay for long periods. I’m planning to move there permanently once the ad campaign is squared away.”
It takes a little over thirty minutes to reach the well-heeled residential area, and when he hits a remote for a large, wrought iron gate and slowly creeps up the drive, I am left speechless.
It’s not a mansion like the kind you see on those Beverly Hills shows, but the place is breath-taking. A Spanish style home sits nestled among bright green lawns I’m dying to roll across, and I’d bet next month’s salary there’s a pool.
“Good God, it’s beautiful. You must have spent a fortune revamping.”
“Thanks. Come on.”
The interior is even better. It’s spacious and homey and everything you could ask for in a home.
“Stop gawking and come to the kitchen. We’re eating in there.”
I follow as he leads the way and take the chair he’s holding out for me.
“It’s nothing special. Just cold turkey and salad. I thought you’d like that instead of the mac and cheese Rose usually makes on a Friday when I’m home.”
“That’s great.”
I am nervous and tense while we eat because I know that this time is the only concession he’s going to make. Once dinner is done he’ll be done waiting.
“Stop fidgeting, Hannah. I don’t bite,” he chides, and I look up from my plate to see him staring implacably.
“Sorry, I’m a little nervous, if you want the truth.”
“Why? You knew what would happen when you accepted my invitation.”
Yeah, but wanting something and actually doing it are worlds apart. I’m not shy or anything, just uncertain and…okay I’m feeling somewhat shy.
Gregory is so…built, and while I take care of myself, I’m not exactly a supermodel.
“Can I help with the dishes?” I ask, not wanting to admit my sudden uncertainty, and I see a dark smile bloom on his face.
“Come here, Hannah,” he says, pushing everything to the side to clear the area in front of him.
I blink, and he pats the table firmly.
“Come here, Hannah.”
My legs tremble when I stand and skirt the table, coming to a stop to his right. He grabs me by the hips and lifts me, sitting me down so that he is at eyelevel with my chest.
“Did you listen this time, darlin’?”
He hasn’t even touched me, and yet I feel myself clench, wanting him, needing him to do something. I nod wordlessly and hold my breath when his hands slide up my thighs, gathering my skirt and pushing up as his rough fingers glide over my flesh. By the time my skirt is bunched at my hips, I’m breathing hard and twitchy.
“Good girl, darlin’,” he coos approvingly. “Open for me.”
I do, and am rewarded when he sucks in a breath before lowering his head, his lips ghosting over my inner things and then settling at the top of my cleft.
“I’ve been thinking about this since that night. It wasn’t enough. I need to know if you taste as good as I remember.”
I cry out and arch, pushing closer when his hot mouth settles on my clit and starts sucking in a steady rhythm that has pleasure clenching deep inside my sex.
I’ve never been this turned on with nothing more than a look and the touch of a man’s mouth, and yet, as he flicks his tongue over me and rubs, I feel my orgasm hurtling at me with a speed that robs me of breath.
He groans, the reverberation intensifying my pleasure, and growls when I pull his head closer and throw my head back, so consumed by the sensations I can’t help the gasping, mewling sounds that echo around us.
“Take it, Hannah. Come,” he orders, and I obey him, exploding in a series of waves that leave me gasping for breath.
He laps until he’s wrung every shudder from me and then stands, swinging me up and into his arms. We’re moving, climbing, and then we’re in his room, a huge space dominated by a California king draped in white and blue sheets.
“Undress for me,” he whispers into my hair, releasing my legs to slide me to my feet.
It takes but seconds to release the zipper on my skirt and pull my shirt up and over my bra-less breasts. When I’m done, he’s as naked as I am, and I take a minute to stop and stare at his beauty. He’s muscled, but not overly so, and I especially like the way his hips are cut to form an enticing vee down to his cock.
“On the bed, darlin’,” he growls, cutting my perusal short.
“But—”
“Now, Hannah, darlin’. I’m hanging on by a thread.”
I lie back, forcing my arms to my sides as he stops at the foot of the bed and crawls up to me.