Ruthless In A Suit: Book Three Part 13

My pants are quickly discarded on the floor along with my socks, and I stand before Emily as she runs her hands over my stomach and chest, relishing in the feel of her hands on me. Her hand dances circles around my c.o.c.k, going from my abs around my hips to my thighs. Her mouth is open, eager. I take her hand and rub it over my stiff c.o.c.k, showing her what she's doing to my body. Her fingers wrap around the outline of my d.i.c.k as we slide our hands together, the slight friction and feel of her hand on me making my head spin. I could come right now if I let myself. But I'm not even close to being done.

When she moves to the edge of the couch, closer to me, I grip her hand a little tighter. She looks up at me, and I shake my head. No. She moves back on the couch. I need to control her, not to keep her from getting pleasure but to ensure that she gets all I have to give her.

I put my knees on either side of her, pining her to the spot. I press my lips to hers, taking her in, getting off on the little moans that escape from deep inside her. Her hands run over my skin, enjoying the feel of me as much as I enjoy her touch. I pull her forward slightly, my next target her bra. With my hand on the clasp, I ask, "Is this okay?" I want her to know that, even though I am in control, she has a say. But I never ask a question I don't know the answer to.

"Yes," she says, her voice hoa.r.s.e with l.u.s.t.

I release her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s from the confines of that s.e.xy black bra. How did I manage to only devour one of these perfect t.i.ts that night at the restaurant? I take them in my hands as she arches her back, offering them up to me. I lick her nipple, her skin even more tantalizing here, and I once I'm here I don't know how I'll ever stop. I kiss and lick her, then give the same attention to her other gorgeous breast. She moans clearly now, loving the feast I'm having on her, and that only encourages me more.

I move to the floor in front of her and watch her eyes as I slid the last sc.r.a.p of fabric covering her body. She raises her hips and I take those little panties down, tossing them aside.

I run my hands over every part of Emily. I feel her stomach, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her shoulders and arms. I touch her thighs, all the way down to her toes, painted some kind of light purple, which for some reason makes me smile. I kiss her toes, literally kiss her feet, because at this moment I would do anything for this woman.

I kiss up her thighs, ready again to take her the way I did at the restaurant. I could do it a thousand times and it wouldn't be enough. Kissing my way up her thighs, Emily writhes her hips, as eager for my tongue as I am to give it to her. I look up at her; her cheeks are flushed pink. Her breathing is heavy and she keeps biting her lips. I swear I almost come when her hand reaches for my head, gently nudging me toward her.

I kiss further inside her thigh, her smell animal and alluring. She scoots a little further down the couch, eager like she was at the restaurant, presenting herself to me, giving her sensual parts over to me. I let out a groan and with no further ado, flick my tongue over her p.u.s.s.y. Emily immediately responds with another moan. Her hands are gripping the edge of the couch, nails digging in. I lick the full length of her s.e.x, savoring it. My tongue tastes the hardness of her little c.l.i.t, brushing back and forth until panting noises come from Emily and her hand is once again reaching for my head. Just when I think she might come I change course and let my tongue roam across her slick folds, tasting all the parts of her.

"Oh, G.o.d, Jackson," she moans. She has no idea how much pleasure that gives me. I reward her by slipping my finger inside her, her juices covering my finger. Those s.e.xy noises of Emily's pick up-she's got her hand over her face as if she's trying to keep some sort of composure. I work her hole gently at first, slipping easily in and out. My mouth goes back to work on the hard little nub of her c.l.i.t, sucking gently on it while my finger pumps in and out of her tight little hole. Once she's been thoroughly worked I add another finger, opening her up even more, pumping her like I intend to pump my d.i.c.k in her, stretching her a little further, a little wider. I push my fingers deep inside her and hook them at the top, giving her even more pleasure.

"You're gonna make me come," she pants. "G.o.d, Jackson. Stop or I'm gonna come."

Her hand tangles back in my hair and she keeps my face pressed between her thighs. I work double time on my efforts, lapping at her c.l.i.t, pumping my fingers inside her, sucking her, doing everything I can to get her off now that she's so close. I'm rewarded when Emily cries out, bucking her hips into my mouth as her walls clench, her hand digging in my hair. I ride her out until she's done.

"Oh my G.o.d," she says, her eyes closed and her head dropping to the side. Her body has gone limp. I kiss her thighs, giving her a minute.

"Don't go anywhere," I say, standing up. She doesn't move. I don't think she could right now if she had to.

I move to one of the hall closets and grab armfuls of plush blankets and pillows the housekeeper stacks neatly in here, and which I have no recollection of ever buying. That's the thing about having a staff-things just appear, and sometimes at the best of times.

I lay the blankets on the floor in front of the fireplace and drop the pillows down as well.

"Come here, beauty," I say, helping Emily up and guiding her to my little bed. I'd take her upstairs to my bed but this somehow seems more intimate. I've never been with anyone else in this room.

She lies down and I toss a couple of the blankets over her and she snuggles down in their warmth. I start a fire, then burrow in next to her, wrapping her naked body up in my arms. I kiss her neck, taking in the scent of her skin and hair. She giggles and lifts her shoulder.

"That tickles," she says.

"What, you mean this?" And I nuzzle in even more until she squeals and squirms. "You weren't complaining a moment ago, all the things I did with my mouth."

She grins. The golden oranges flicker over her face, making her even more beautiful, if that's possible. "I hope your neighbors didn't hear me. G.o.d, I've never made that kind of racket before in my life. You're amazing." She nudges her a.s.s back into a little; I pull her tighter.

"I don't have any neighbors," I say.

"What do you mean? You're on the corner but there's the brownstone next door."

"I own that one too."

"G.o.d, why am I not surprised?" she says. "I should have known you live in a double wide." I laugh along with her. "All that and a fireplace."

"I have eight," I tell her.

"You're ridiculous," she says.

"So you keep telling me." I kiss her arm, running my finger over her skin.

"You're in this big double house all by yourself? Not even a dog?"

"Not even a goldfish," I say.

After a moment she says, "That sounds lonely."

"You live alone," I say. "Are you lonely?"

"Sometimes," she admits. "But my studio is cozy and I use every part of it. How many rooms does this place have?"

"Too many" I say. I kiss her arm, preferring to concentrate on her body than my house.

"I bet there are rooms you never even go in."

"Probably," I say, continuing my kissing. "Definitely."

"So why have such a big place?"

I stop and look at her. "Because I can."

She holds my eyes for a moment. A grin slides across her face and she looks back to the fire. She nudges her shoulder back at me, and I go back to my light kisses. "Well, I think it's-"

"Ridiculous?" I say.

"Yes," she agrees. "Totally."

I don't disagree with her. Being here with her in this big house, I realize that there is something I want, and something I need. Emily. I can see her living here with me, helping to fill up this big house with her light and energy. Maybe we'd even get a dog. I don't want her to leave my arms, let alone my house. It could work. Emily and I together could work, if she'd have me, apropos of my father's last demands of who will take over the company. If I married Emily-G.o.d, I can't believe these thoughts are running through my mind-but if I married her it would mean I would get the company. But maybe I don't care about that. Right now, all I care about it making Emily happy.

Emily

I wake slowly to a hard pressing against my a.s.s. Instinctively, I push myself back. I know what that is, and I want more of it.

I'd fallen asleep in Jackson's arms, warm from the fire and his body cupping mine. I feel like I'm still in a dream as his hardness, still covered by his boxer briefs, pushes into my bare a.s.s.

This is a place I'd fantasized about being-in Jackson's arms, his body on mine. Even though it's real, I keep my eyes closed, just in case I'm dreaming.

When I feel Jackson's lips nuzzling me deep in my neck, I know it's real. And this time when he kisses me, I don't laugh. In fact, I'm already wet, wondering how it's possible to have so much l.u.s.t in me. Has it been inside me all these years, just waiting for the right man with the key to opening me up? I never thought it'd be someone like Jackson, but I'm not complaining. Especially not now as his hands move over my hips, pulling me closer to him.

He pulls me onto my back and climbs above me. He rubs his hard d.i.c.k up against my exposed p.u.s.s.y, pumping me slowly as I groan. He's pushing me open, the tip of his covered c.o.c.k nudging my hole before teasing my c.l.i.t.

The fire is warm beside me, but the press of Jackson's body on top of me sends lightening through my body. I need him inside me. I can't wait. I push down his boxer briefs, and before I can even get him in my hand he pauses above me.

"Are you sure?" he asks. His hair falls over his forehead, hovering past his brows. I brush it out of his eyes.

"Positive," I say.

He strips them off. My breath catches when I take him in my hand. His c.o.c.k is huge, a steel-hard giant, so long and thick. How can I take him inside me? I pull him slowly in my hand, getting used to the size. He moves his hips with me, his eyes fallen shut.

I press his long c.o.c.k against the length of my p.u.s.s.y. Jackson lowers himself to his forearms and rocks back and forth against me, soaking his d.i.c.k in my wetness, so close to entering me but not going for it yet. His hips and d.i.c.k press into me as his mouth and hands work the rest of me. His kisses cover my neck as his hand rubs my b.r.e.a.s.t.s gently as his thumb grazes across my hard nipple. I arch my back, eager for him to take me in his mouth again, and he complies, sucking my full t.i.t as his d.i.c.k works it way across my c.l.i.t. I cry out; I need more.

"Jackson," I say, my head spinning with all the ways he's making my body feel. I reach down and take him in my hand. I guide his soaked d.i.c.k to my hole, rubbing it across the outside of my wet entrance.

"Are you sure? You're ready?" His fingers glide across my cheek, his eyes looking closely into mine. I can only nod my head yes. He kisses me fully on my lips, his tongue digging into my eager mouth. He takes his d.i.c.k back in his hand and puts the tip inside me. He pulls his face back to look at me, making sure I'm okay. When he pushes in slowly, just a tiny bit more, I gasp out as my c.u.n.t walls stretch to accommodate all that c.o.c.k. He kisses my face before he slides in a little more, slowly, until he's all the way inside, filling me completely, my walls stretched further than ever. I press my legs out as much as I can. There's a slight pain between my legs, like a tear of my skin, but the sensations of his d.i.c.k slipping slowly in and out of me far out weight any pain I might feel.

He pumps me a little faster bit by bit, always watching my face to make sure I'm okay. The more he pushes into me the better it feels until any small pain is far in the past. When he says my name I move my hips up to him, wanting to take more of him. Soon I'm bucking up as his d.i.c.k slams into me, our sweaty skin slapping against each other. His d.i.c.k fills and pumps me, harder and harder until we can't take it anymore. When we come I feel my walls clench as fire explodes in my stomach, my fingers digging into Jackson's skin. He's only a moment behind me, his come bursting inside me as he pumps until the very end.

His body collapses on top of me, both of us heaving, trying to catch our breaths. When he moves off me, sliding his d.i.c.k out with a moan, warm liquid runs down my thigh.

"Do you have any idea how good you are?" he says. He pulls a pillow under his head as I tug the blanket back over my body.

"I didn't do anything," I say. "I feel bad. You did all the work."

"I promise, it is not work. Although if it was, I'd definitely sign up for a full-time position." He cuddles close to me, our naked bodies warming each other along with the fire and blankets. I take his hand, which is resting on my stomach under the blankets, and hold it. We fall asleep to the crackling of the fire and our satisfied breathing.

The next time I wake up the pale sun is streaming through the bay window and the smells of fresh cooking wafts over me. The fire has been revived and the house is warm. I gather myself up in a sheet that's tangled around me and follow my nose into the kitchen.

"Good morning, beauty," Jackson greets me as he flips pancakes. "You hungry?"

"I'm starving," I say. "You cook?"

"A little," he says. "I love good food, as you know-the restaurant. And I've picked up some things here and there from chefs I've talked to, including Chef Barton. Sit down." He motions to the stool on the other side of the island where he's prepping. He slides a bowl of cut fruit to me-pineapple, red grapes and strawberries. "Coffee?"

"Please," I say, tucking into the fruit. "This kitchen is gorgeous." It's bright with white cabinets and a white marble countertop and stainless steel appliances. A large window at the back looks out onto a garden.

"I don't get to use it as much as I'd like," he says, serving up a fresh cup of French press. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Just sugar, thanks," I say. "More evidence that you need to use this house more. Needs more life in it."

He smiles. He looks so carefree when he smiles. The b.u.t.toned-up, tense, calculating face that I've seen too many times disappears when he smiles. I want to be the one who makes him smile more often.

"Maybe that can be arranged," he says. He winks at me, and I melt. d.a.m.n, he is s.e.xy, even in his gray T-shirt and flannel pants. "You like eggs and bacon?"

"Yes," I say. "Sounds like a lot of food." I gesture to the fluffy stack of pancakes he's moving to the island and the fruit bowl I'm working on.

"Just wanted to make sure you were well fed," Jackson says. "I don't know what you like."

I look down at the fruit, blushing. He definitely knows what I like, but I suppose not of the breakfast-food variety. If he weren't standing in front of a hot oven, I might climb across the island and attack him right here.

"I brought down some clothes for you to wear," Jackson says. He moves to a chair and picks up a folded pile of clothes. "Although I have to say, the sheet looks stunning wrapped around you. Makes me want to take it right off you."

"So why don't you?"

"Don't make me lose focus when I'm working so hard on this breakfast for you," he says, although it's clear from the look in his eyes that he wants me, right now.

"Fine," I say, and I get to up to inspect the clothes. They're his, so they'll be gigantic on me. I do want to tease him a little though, so I drop the sheet off my body in full view of him.

"Emily..."

"What?" I say innocently, exposing my nude body to him. "I'm changing. Like you said."

"You're going to make me burn your breakfast."

"No one is making you do anything," I say.

His eyes roam my body, which he knows so well now. I turn my back to him and bend over dramatically to pick up a shirt from the chair. I look over my shoulder at him and yep, he's still watching me. His hand flips a k.n.o.b on the oven and in two strides he's got me turned around and gathered up in his arms. His mouth crashes into mine and we cling to each other as if we hadn't just spent all night with our hands and tongues exploring every inch of each other. His hand cups my breast, and he pulls away from my mouth and sucks my nipple so that I'm already groaning, my fist in his hair, pushing him into me. He really knows how to work that tongue.

In quick time he flips me around again and has my stomach up against the island, pushing me down by the back of my neck so that I'm bent over, a.s.s up, ready for him.

"Is this what you wanted me to do?" he asks, his voice heavy with breath. He keeps on hand on my back and I can feel him digging in his flannel pants, pulling his d.i.c.k out for me.

"Yes," I say, arching my back so that my a.s.s perks up for him. "Take me, Jackson."

"Spread your legs."

I do as he says, the cold marble helping to cool down my hot skin. I rest my flushed cheek on it. With no warning I feel his d.i.c.k at my entrance, so used and stretched from the last twelve hours, and so wet just from the sight of him this morning. Jackson thrusts his enormous c.o.c.k inside me, and I cry out in pleasure. He holds my hips and continues his slow, powerful pumping into my needy c.u.n.t, his soft grunts making me wish I could see him. Feeling him fill me up, picturing his contorted face as he digs into me is enough to make me groan at every thrust. I match his rhythm as I jerk back my hips to push more of him into me. He's on me in just the right spot now, and our animal grunts are in sync as he takes me so close.

"I'm close, I'm close," he says.

"Yes," I say, and together we speed up, slamming our bodies into each other until we're both crying out, feeling the release together.

"G.o.d." Jackson collapses over on my back, both of us sweating in such a short moment. I can feel his breath on my wet skin, instantly drying it. "You are a dangerous woman."

He pushes himself up and slides out of me. He pulls his pants back up and his face is flushed and he's smiling and satisfied and so happy. I reach out and put my hand on his cheek, p.r.i.c.kly with a growing beard but I know how soft he is beneath. I brush his jaw with my thumb. My feelings for him are going into overdrive-maybe something to do with the fact that we were just intimate, and have been for the last twelve hours or so. Whatever it is, I want to tell him how I feel about him, how much I care for him and want him to be happy. I want to be the one who makes him happy. But I can't say anything if I don't truly know what these feelings are, or where they are going.

So I all I say is, "Now where's the rest of my breakfast?"

He tips his head back and laughs. Me, making him smile. That makes me smile.

He puts on an oven mitt and pulls a tray from the oven. Two white ramekins are filled with spinach and bacon, some kind of white cheese and, on top of each, an egg.

Jackson gently pokes each of the eggs with his finger. "Ha. Only overcooked them a little," he says proudly.

I finally put on the clothes as well as socks and big jacket and we carry our breakfast up a set of twisting back stairs that lead to the rooftop terrace. Because of course he has a rooftop terrace. With a view of the Charles River.

"Whoa," I say as we set everything down. The early fall air is cool and crisp, and it's going to be a sunny day. We can see early-morning rowers out on the river, the water sparkling in the morning light. "This is stunning."