Her breathing escalated. She was quiet, but he could tell she was listening, and judging by the small, soft sounds she was making? She was into it.
"I can't stop touching myself picturing you, Greer," he told her, and his hand worked his cock harder. When he got to the head, he'd squeeze tight, trying to pull himself down off the ledge long enough for her to get what she needed out of this. "I'm picturing coming up behind you and lifting that little skirt of yours and finding your panties all soaked at the thought of me touching you. Hell, I wish you were here right now and it was your hand on my cock instead of mine. I'd love to watch you stroke it for me."
"Y-you would?" Ah, Christ. There was so much tension in her soft little statement. Her breathing was faster than ever, her voice husky and almost as raw as his.
"Hell, yes," he growled. "I'd lie back and just let you touch me however you wanted. You could use me how you liked . . . and if you put those sweet, honey-smeared thighs in my face, I wouldn't complain. I'd just hold them tight and start licking."
Her breath caught in a little half gasp. So she liked the thought of him licking her, did she? God, when he saw her again, he was going to hold her down and tongue her pussy for hours on end. Endless, endless hours. "Should I start with your clit, Greer, baby? Or would you want my tongue deep inside you, thrusting like I'm going to do with my cock?"
She made a little mewing noise on the other end of the phone.
"You touching yourself for me, baby? Spreading that wetness all around?"
Her whimper sounded like a yes.
"Play with your clit for me, since I can't be there to do it for you. Rub your finger all around the hood and tease it good. Get your pussy all wet and juicy for me-"
Greer whimpered again, and it turned into a little high-pitched whine. Her breathing stopped.
It was silent on her end of the phone. Then, her breathing started again, deep and panting. Ah, fuck. "Did you just come for me, baby?"
"Oh my god," Greer breathed on the other end of the phone. "I can't believe I just did that."
She sounded so shy and awed at the same time. He loved it. He pictured her holding the phone to her ear, her legs sprawled in her bed with her hand in her panties. That was all it took for him to finish, and finish fast. With that mental image, he stroked his hand hard up and down his cock, working the head, and came with a hiss of breath. Hot come splattered on his clothing and his hand, and he kept pumping his cock, seemingly coming forever. When he finally felt the last quaking moments of the orgasm finish rolling through him, Asher groaned.
"Did you just . . ." Greer let the words delicately trail off.
"Hell yeah. All over the damn place."
She giggled. "I'm picturing the horrific tragedy of cleaning your maid is going to have in the morning."
He chuckled, amused that she was making such a filthy joke with him. "Okay, not that bad. Just . . . it was a strong one. Probably the best orgasm I've had."
"Mmmhmm." The skepticism had returned to her voice. "We back to flattery, Ash?"
"Nah. Just telling the truth. And here's another truth for you, Greer, baby: When I see you again? I meant every word of it. You'd better be prepared to have me go down on you for hours."
It was gratifying as heck to hear her suck in a breath all over again.
Chapter 8
It was going to be another damn day before Asher could return to Vegas, and it was killing him to miss all this time with Greer. It was only one more day, but he wanted to touch her. He craved the feel of her skin and the sight of her smiles. He'd managed to wrangle phone sex out of her again last night, but she refused to Skype. Too shy, he guessed, and it made him feel protective of her . . . and made him vow to be that much dirtier in his talk. The moment he wrapped up his last meeting, he was taking a flight back to Vegas and getting out of the city and away from his business that should have been running itself.
Asher glared at his CEO as the man bluffed his way through another high-level meeting, and wondered if he'd been too quick to pass off control. But, damn it, he didn't want to spend sixteen hours a day for the next ten years grooming the company for someone else to take over. He wanted to live his life. He wanted to spend time with Greer.
He wanted to see his baby born.
While the meeting (the third one of the day) droned on, he picked up his phone and started to Google Dutch baby names, and then Indian ones. Staring at a long list of choices didn't help much, though, considering he had no idea if the baby would be a boy or a girl. It didn't matter to him, because he'd love either one, but he liked the thought of a baby girl with Greer's dark hair and eyes. At what point in the pregnancy would she find out the sex, he wondered, and Googled that, too.
As early as twelve weeks. Huh. He pulled up a calendar and counted back. It had been over twelve weeks. He immediately texted Greer.
Asher: Got a moment?
There was no response right away, which meant she was probably busy with something, and he impatiently put his phone aside and tried to focus on the meeting. It was probably a good thing she wasn't answering, since he wasn't supposed to care about the baby. That was getting harder and harder to pretend, though. He wanted to ask about it every time he talked to her, wanted to know if she was feeling well or if the baby had started moving and if she could feel it. He wanted to experience it with her and hated that he was being held back.
As the meeting droned on, Asher rubbed his jaw, staring down at his silent phone.
"Mr. Sutton?"
He glanced up and looked over at Ishikawa, his recently hired CEO. "Yeah?"
"Did you want to temporarily adjourn the meeting to go over the latest reports?"
Asher nodded and got to his feet. Any excuse to get him out of there. "I need to take care of a few things actually, so I'm going to hand this off to you."
Ishikawa looked pleased, and the others on the board a little concerned. Fuck it. The man had to take control at some point. Asher grabbed his phone and laptop and left the conference room. He returned to his office where he could have a little privacy and was disgruntled to see that there were still no messages from Greer. Normally she responded faster.
He decided to contact Stijn's assistant. Augusta sounded annoyed to hear from him, but he didn't care. "Is Greer at the castle today?"
"Last I checked, she was upstairs napping. Do I need to install a video camera to monitor her actions?"
Sarcasm. Fun. "I'm just checking on her."
Augusta made a noise of assent. Or maybe irritation. "She's probably just tired. Been napping every day lately."
"She has?" Worry threaded through him. Maybe he needed to push Stijn and insist that he get Greer an assistant. She was pregnant, after all, and this wedding-the wedding he'd concocted-was a lot of work.
"Yeah, and today was a doozy." Augusta snapped her gum. "Can I help you with something in particular, Mr. Sutton?"
"Doozy how? What happened?"
Augusta cleared her throat. "Something about the girls not liking the designs on the tablecloths. And then there were the centerpieces. And the people providing the tables and chair rentals tried to back out. She was up here in my office for a few hours faxing contracts and arguing with people."
That sounded . . . rotten. "What can I do to help?"
"Why are you asking me?"
Yeah. Good point. "If you see her, tell her I need to talk to her."
"I'll take down the memo, Mr. Sutton."
"Same message for Mr. Janssen," Asher told her. He needed to talk to Stijn. It would do Asher no good to try and squeeze time in with Greer if she was working herself to exhaustion for her father's ridiculous wedding. "It's imperative that I talk with him. Today."
Because his Greer was not going to wear herself out for this stupid shit. Even if he had to tell Stijn to cancel the wedding. Asher was fairly certain-or at least hopeful-that Greer had gotten over her seething hatred of him and had moved on to simply mistrust. He could work with mistrust. There was no longer a need for the wedding to go on. He hung up his phone and let his assistant know he was unavailable until further notice. Ishikawa could handle all meetings from this point onward.
He opened his desk drawer to find a pen, and to his surprise, a framed portrait of Donna stared back at him. Fuck. He must have shoved this in his desk a while back, unwilling to toss it away. He pulled the picture out and studied it for a moment. Donna was smiling, her red hair blowing in the breeze, her yellow bikini bright against the Mediterranean background. They'd taken this on vacation after he'd graduated from college. Even in this picture, though, she looked bored. Complacent. He remembered her wanting to go out every night rather than spend time in the room with him.