Page 49 of Hard to Resist

“You own a phone.”

“I know. I should’ve called. I tried. More than once.”

“And?”

For the first time, he looks away. “Nothing sounded right.”

The thought of Eric Voss hesitating over me is far too pleasing. “You were nervous?”

His eyes return to mine. “Temporarily.”

That brief glimpse of nerves gets to me more than all his usual confidence. I lift my hand to his face, run my thumb along his jaw, and kiss him.

The hand beside my head slides into my hair as he kisses me back. His mouth is so controlled at first that it almost feels polite. I didn’t follow him into a dark room for polite. I curl my hand around the back of his neck, pull him closer, and part my lips beneath his.

His control breaks. His fingers tighten in my hair, holding me where he wants me as his tongue moves against mine. The kiss turns deep and slow, giving me time to feel every stroke.

His other hand moves over my bare back and settles low on my hip. He pulls me against him, and the hard press of his erection against my stomach makes my fingers tighten at the back of his neck. I lift the leg exposed by the slit and hook it around his hip. The satin falls open as I press against him through his trousers. Eric’s breath catches against my mouth.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask.

He stills for half a second, then reaches inside his jacket and pulls out his wallet. His fingers fumble once before finding the foil packet. He tosses it onto the conference table, slips the wallet back into his pocket, and drops to his knees.

My leg slides from his hip, but he catches it. His hands move beneath the satin and lift it over his shoulder. He kisses the inside of my knee, then follows the bare skin up my thigh. His eyes stay on mine until the last moment.

He pulls my underwear aside and my head falls back against the door. He starts with the lightest touch. The tip of his tongue traces me in slow, barely-there strokes, like he’s tasting rather than rushing. It shouldn’t be enough. My hips still lift anyway, chasing every soft pass. Him on his knees, patient and focused like he has all night, is what makes my thighs start to shake.

Then he stops playing.

His tongue goes flat and broad, licking a firm, wet path straight through me. He closes his mouth over my clit and sucks. It doesn’t even take a minute. Heat spikes hard and sharp. My fingers tighten in his hair as the pleasure builds too fast. I don’t want to come yet. I want more. I draw him away.

His eyes lift to mine. “I want you inside me.”

Eric rises at once. He slides his hands beneath my thighs and lifts me against him. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the conference table. He pushes a chair aside with his foot, sets me on the edge, and steps between my open knees.

One hand stays spread over my thigh while he loosens his belt with the other. The buckle gives a soft clink, followed by the slow rasp of his zipper. He pushes his trousers and briefs down over his hips.

I assumed his ex had been exaggerating. She hadn’t. Eric’s cock is about eight inches and thick. When I reach for him and wrap my hand around the shaft, my fingers don’t quite meet. I stroke him slowly, feeling how solid and heavy he is. Slick wetness beads at the tip and smears under my palm as I move. The thickness makes my stomach tighten—already imagining how much he’ll stretch me.

He lets me keep going for a moment before he reaches past me for the condom on the table. He tears the packet and rolls it on, smoothing the rubber down to the base. It stretches tight over him. I can’t look away from his hand. Watching him handle himself like that sends a sharp throb between my legs.

He steps between my thighs and grips my hip. He spits onto his fingers, then rubs the wetness over my clit in slow circles before sliding them inside me. Then he lines himself up and pushes in.

The stretch is immediate. Too much at first. His hand slides to my thigh and holds me open as he eases in another inch. He pauses, giving my body time to adjust. When the tight stretch begins to ease, he draws back an inch and moves deeper. The friction sends a shudder through me.

“That’s it,” he says.

He settles fully inside me. I breathe through the pressure, my body tight around him. Then he withdraws almost to the tip and enters me again in one measured stroke, making me feel every inch. I grip his shoulders and tilt my hips toward him. His gaze drops to where our bodies meet, and mine follows. I watch his cock slide inside me, wet from how badly I want him.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

I watch the control leave his face as my body relaxes around him. His eyes darken, and his next thrust drives deeper. Seeing him react to the feel of me sends another rush of heat through my body.

The last of the burn fades. Now there’s only the slick drag of his cock moving inside me.

The table shifts beneath us as his pace quickens. His mouth moves over my throat, and I brace my hands against the table as I meet each thrust.

Then he slides both hands beneath my hips and lifts me slightly. The new angle drives him against a spot that steals my breath.