Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(18)

"No!" she said, a little too loudly. "We stay here."

He wasn't going to like that. Even though Jack Winter was sex  personified, she got the feeling he didn't like the idea of doing it in  his office. It would remind him of how much he was breaching his stand  against mixing business and pleasure. Still, he didn't say anything,  just narrowed his eyebrows in a slightly annoyed way.

"Sit," she said, pointing to the sofa.

When he didn't move immediately, she placed her palm on his chest and  gave him a gentle push. He walked backward toward the sofa until his  calves brushed against it. Scowling, he sat.

She moved around the room, switching off most but not all of the lamps  and enjoying him watching her. He was dying of curiosity, she could  tell, but he wasn't going to say anything. When the room was suitably  dim, she took a stroll around its perimeter, letting her hand glide  along the cold glass of the window walls. In truth, she was screwing up  her courage.

She made one lap, his eyes burning her, though she didn't spare him a  glance. Fake it till you make it. Moving to stand in front of him she  said, "Take out your cock." That was the truth. That's what she wanted  him to do. There was something about just asking for what you wanted,  with no apology, that was intoxicating. The telltale ache took hold  between her legs.                       
       
           



       

His eyebrows shot up. She'd ruffled him. Good. He hesitated a bit too  long, though, so she put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows  back at him. After a momentary standoff in which they stared at each  other, frozen, he lifted his hips and pulled his pants and boxers down.  His penis, freed from its constraints, jumped to attention.

"Now you," he said, his voice thick.

"Ah, ah." She held up a finger. "Who's in charge here?" He scowled but  remained silent, so she issued her next order. "Shirt, too."

Her skin buzzed with victory and anticipation when he obeyed. Jack  Winter, naked on the sofa in his office-dang. She had a fleeting notion  to take out her phone and take a picture so she could remember, years  from now, that this actually happened, but she doubted he'd let her  control of the situation extend that far.

"Are you going to come over here, or am I going to have to-"

"Stop talking," she said, affecting a boldness she didn't quite feel as she moved to stand next to him.

He reached out and ran his hands over her legs. She swatted them away. "No touching, either."

He bowed his head and opened his palms in a gesture of surrender.

She swallowed hard. Okay, the way to do this was just to do it. Skip the  preliminaries. They had the rest of the week for preliminaries-the  thought took the pressure off.

She fell to her knees.

"Oh my God," he said, before her lips even made contact with him.

The taste of him was a jolt to her senses. She'd given blow jobs in the  past, but they'd always felt obligatory. As she slid her lips over him,  she knew he was going to be different. A low hum began in his chest, and  she could feel it between her legs. He was silky and hard at the same  time, salty and sweet. As she slowly took more of him in, the hum became  a growl. His hands came to tangle in her hair, threading it around his  fingers and resting against her scalp, which felt like it contained all  the nerve endings in her body. The image they must make-it was exactly  what she'd imagined, and now she'd created it. Having purposely left  some of the lights on, she wondered if anyone in the neighboring  buildings could see them. She'd kept it dim enough that they probably  couldn't be identified, but wanted it to be crystal clear what was going  on. Though anyone watching would have seen something that looked like a  woman submitting to a man, they both knew the truth. Jack Winter had  given up his power for a little bit, and it was exhilarating. It was  driving her wild.

She'd only made a few strokes up and down, when he gasped, "Shit, Cassie, I'm not going to last."

She stopped then, and as the vacuum her lips had created unsealed, they  made a little pop. "Maybe you need a break." She laughed-it was an  unrestrained laugh of joy.

"Maybe not," he growled.

"But I'm the one in charge, you'll recall," she teased, running one  finger lightly over the length of him. He grunted and threw his head  back. She relented. She didn't want him to last. She wanted to make him  come as quickly as possible-she was getting off on the power trip, in  truth. So she sank her mouth back over his shaft, bracing her hands  against his thighs, as she took him as deep as she could. She increased  the suction and swirled her tongue over the tip of him, trying to figure  out what he liked best.

"Cassie!" he barked. She might have thought him angry if she didn't know  better. His fists clenched in her hair and he pressed, warning her off.  She let him guide her away, replacing her mouth with her hand as she  sat back on her heels to watch the orgasm rip through him. He was  magnificent, his eyes never leaving hers as a great shudder overtook  him. His hips jerked as if possessed by some external force, and still  he watched her. She felt the hot liquid then, and a ridiculous feeling  of satisfaction mixed with accomplishment overtook her.

When it was done, he closed his eyes, just for a moment, as if turning  inward to gather his strength. It had the effect of breaking the intense  connection between them. When he made eye contact again, she winked,  wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and stood. "Now," she teased,  "was that so bad?"

"Jesus, woman, you just about killed me." He lifted his hips and pulled his pants back up.

"Oh, sorry," she mock pouted.

"I'm not." He stood up and blotted the wet spot on his jeans. "And I'm going to show you just how not sorry I am."

She raised her eyebrows, issuing a silent challenge.

He pointed to the door. "Home. Now."





Chapter Nine                       
       
           



       

"Race you. First one up gets to be in charge." And then he hit the  stairs-there would be none of this give-the-lady-a-head-start bullshit.  No, he left the lady shrieking "No fair!" as she struggled to get her  key out of the doorknob.

Everything felt so much easier now that they were out in the open about  their arrangement. There was no fear she was going to jump to the wrong  conclusion, which left clear sailing ahead. He picked up the pace. As  hot as that little encounter in his office had been, there was no way he  wasn't going to put his hands on her this time. He couldn't just sit  back again and not touch her.

So he was going to win this goddamned race. She was gaining on him,  laughing as she clattered up the stairs. He started taking them two at a  time, putting a good chunk of distance between them so, by the time he  rounded the landing to the fourth floor, she was more than a story  behind him. "I'm kicking your ass, James!" he called down. Summoning a  burst of speed for the final flight, he stumbled to a jog as he covered  the last stretch of hallway to her apartment.

And came face to face with a woman sitting on the floor, her back  against Cassie's door. She lifted suspicious eyes to meet his. He stood,  frozen, as the sounds of Cassie lurching up the stairs, yelling, "You  had a head start!" grew louder. She burst through the door from the  stairwell, then went utterly silent.

"Mom?"

He'd known before she said it. The woman was an older, haggard twin to  her daughter. Her hair was the same auburn-streaked brown, but it hung  limply around her shoulders. Cassie's mother's version of the  crazy-quilt hazel eyes were dull instead of vibrant, and ringed by dark  circles. She would be in her mid-forties, yet she looked a good fifteen  years older.

He swung his gaze to Cassie and watched her face harden. There had been  shock there-he wondered how long it had been since she'd seen her  mother-but it drained away and was replaced by something else. Armor.

"What are you doing here?" Cassie's tone was clipped.

The woman scrambled to her feet. "They let me out early. For Christmas."

"Bullshit." It was not lost on him that Cassie had skipped over the  pasta swears in favor of the real thing. He took a step back to stand  next to her.

"I need somewhere to stay until I can get my own place." She held out a  palm, which contained a single key. "Changed the locks on your own  mother, I see."

"They did not let you out." Cassie spoke slowly, as if she were trying  very hard not to yell. "You were supposed to be in through January. I  was there for the intake, remember?" Her eyes narrowed, and he could  feel the waves of tension rolling off her. He took a step sideways,  putting himself a little closer to her, as if he could absorb some of  that tension for her.