She gave him a wicked grin, twirling him around so that his back slammed against the wall. “It didn’t take long and I wanted to get back to get ready for tonight.” She sunk to her knees and started to unbuckle his belt.
He groaned, his head knocking back against the wall with a loud thunk. “The party isn’t for another four hours.”
“I know.” She pulled down his zipper and released his cock from the confines of his boxers. “I figured we’d need some stress relief before seeing your family.”
Tonight was his parents’ annual fundraiser for Alzheimer’s and his attendance was mandatory. Even Braden was making an appearance, although he primarily came to provide moral support for Ryan. Neither one of them related to, nor cared for, the members of the obscenely wealthy community, but they both agreed the charity was worth a few hours of discomfort, especially since this year’s benefit was in Uncle Alexander’s memory.
He could only grunt in agreement as Portia took his shaft into her mouth, her tongue sliding along the bottom, driving him crazy in a way only she could manage. Her slick heat forced all thoughts of family from his mind, and for a few minutes, he didn’t think of anything other than how good she felt wrapped around his cock.
“Baby, you’ve got to stop or I’m going to come,” he warned, his hands sliding into her hair with the intention of pulling her off. But when she did a swirly thing with her tongue, he temporarily forgot everything, including his name. “Oh, God, Portia.”
She sucked even harder, the pull of her mouth too irresistible to resist. A tingling in his lower spine wrapped around to his balls, signaling his imminent orgasm. His legs quaked and with a growl, he let go, releasing his essence into Portia’s eager mouth. Her gaze remained on his as she swallowed every drop and then licked her lips.
She smirked as she stood. “How’re you feeling now?”
He tucked himself back in and zipped his pants. “Like I ate a delicious appetizer, but I’m still hungry for the main meal.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs. “Let’s go kill a couple of hours. There’s a scarf and a bar in your closet that are calling your name.”
She gasped and stumbled, her cheeks pink. “Race you there.”
Looking in the mirror, Ryan buttoned his tuxedo jacket and straightened his black bow tie. Not too shabby.
He slid the jewelry box into his pants’ pocket and rounded the corner of the bedroom, checking the clock on the nightstand to make sure they weren’t running late. He smiled. Even if they were, it was worth it.
After spending two hours in the closet . . . bed . . . and shower . . . he and Portia had reluctantly decided to get ready for the benefit. This was the first time he’d ever watched a woman other than his mother prepare for one of these events, and frankly, he hadn’t paid much attention as a kid. Men had it easy: They shaved, maybe slapped on some cologne, and dressed up in a penguin suit. Women apparently had to exfoliate, shave, pluck, and moisturize before they even started to apply their makeup. Then they had to choose the right dress, shoes, accessories, and purse, not to mention throw on all sorts of bindings which sucked in their so-called problem areas. Didn’t they realize men didn’t care and would rather women go braless rather than add another three layers for them to peel away at the end of the night?
“How do I look?” Portia asked, sneaking up behind him. “I only had one appropriate dress in my closet for a black-tie event.”
He turned around and had to grip the wall for support. The hallway lights shined behind her, giving her an ethereal glow. For the first time, he could really believe she was a Muse. She wore her hair up, not tight like the first time they’d met, but in a twist with soft tendrils falling from the top. Her dress was sleeveless, a rich, deep shade of eggplant. It wrapped tightly around her bust, accentuating her beautifully regal nape and then flared at her waist. She shifted slightly, showing off the slit in the side, revealing her long, toned leg.
He stalked toward her and palmed the back of her neck. “I really wish we didn’t have to go to this thing. I wanted to show you off, but in this dress, I’ll have to bring my baseball bat to keep the men away from you.” He nipped her earlobe and whispered all the dirty things he wanted to do to her rather than go to the benefit.
She pushed back with her hand on his chest, her face flushed. “You play baseball?”
“Seriously? I tell you how I plan to ravish you and that’s what you want to discuss?” He ran his fingers up the slit of the dress until she stayed his hand.