Hooking Up
Page 51
Her fingers shake against the cup. “Can you?”
The answer to that question is I don’t know. Probably not is more accurate. But seeing her, being here with her, makes me want to see more of her. “Be your friend? I can be whatever you want.” I reach across the table and stroke the back of her hand. Even the benign contact meant to soothe sends fire through my veins. All that electric lust shuts down every rational part of my brain. The parts that knows I should walk away, but can’t. Her eyes drift closed and her breath leaves her on a soft whimper. “Tell me what you want, Amie.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
She meets my gaze with an imploring one of her own. “I’m still married, even if it’s only on paper. If anyone found out about us, it would make this so much worse.”
“That’s okay. No one has to know.”
“Is that really okay for you?”
“It is if you want it to be.” I shouldn’t be pushing her, but I don’t want to leave behind what happened in Bora Bora. It’s not fair of me. She’s right to say it’s not a good idea. The wedding was two months ago, and she’s only been home for a few weeks. Not nearly enough time to get over what’s happened. They’re still sorting things out with lawyers. She’s still technically married and trying to get her feet back under her, and here I am, pulling the rug out by offering her things I shouldn’t.
“I can’t get you out of my head,” she says softly, eyes brimming with conflicted emotion.
I don’t know what the message is that she’s trying to convey. Keep pushing? Don’t push? “Do you want me out of your head?”
Her teeth press into her lip. She doesn’t nod.
“So then stop trying.”
“I should really get back to work.” The waver in her voice is telling. She wants to leave but she can’t. And I’m enough of an asshole to make it even harder to walk away from me.
“How far is work?”
“A couple of blocks.”
“I’ll have my car come get us.” I pick up my phone and fire off a message.
“I can walk that distance faster than a car can drive it.”
“I know.”
“Lex.” Her breathing is shallow, quick.
“He’s around the corner, he’ll be here in less than two minutes.”
She hesitates for a second, then gathers her things, hands trembling as she shoves file folders in her bag. I help her into her coat, fingers grazing the back of her neck. She makes a soft noise and leans into the touch, and then we’re out the door, stepping into the cold New York afternoon. The car doesn’t even come to a full stop in front of the café before I wrench the door open, motioning for Amie to get in.
“Where’s your office?” I ask as she slides across the seat to make room for me.
She murmurs the address and I bark it to the driver, hitting the button for privacy.
The divider isn’t even fully closed before I’m on her, lips crashing together, teeth clashing. She grabs the back of my neck and moans into my mouth. I mirror the sound, hands roaming her curves through her clothes.
Mouths still connected, she yanks down the zipper on her skirt and shimmies out of it. She’s wearing thigh highs and pale lace panties. “Don’t want to go back to work a wrinkled mess.” She straddles me, fighting with the buttons on my suit jacket because her hands are shaking so much.
I cover them with one of mine. “Are you sure you want to do this?” What the fuck?
“Why ask now?” she snaps.
“I don’t want you to regret me again.”
“I didn’t regret you in the first place.” She gets to work on my belt, freeing the clasp, and popping the button on my pants, pulling down the zipper. Her soft, warm hand wraps around my cock and we both groan. “I can’t wait to feel you in me again. Why do you have to be so good at fucking me?” She’s almost angry, a lamented sound falls from her lips as she strokes me. “Get a condom.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I lift my hips and dig around for my wallet.
She snatches it from me, flipping it open. She pauses for a second, her gaze suddenly hard as she retrieves the foil square. “Have you fucked anyone else?”
I shake my head.
“Good.” She tears the wrapper.
“You?”
“No.”
I cup her through her panties and she arches into the touch. When I try to get under the lace and satin, she pushes my hand out of the way. “You don’t want my fingers first?”
“I just want you.”
“You sure? You’re gonna be sore.” I know this because we’d done it before in Bora Bora and it slowed us down for about twenty-four hours. In the days after she left, I kept going back to that night in particular, thinking about how I would’ve done things differently so I could’ve had more of her.
“Good. I want to feel you into next week.” She uses the head of my cock to push her panties to the side and drops down without any warning.
Her mouth falls open, her shocked gasp a good indicator that some prep would’ve been a better idea. But Christ, does it ever feel good to be inside her again. She grabs my chin, her nails digging into my jaw, lips brushing over mine. “This. You. I can’t.” She bites my bottom lip, fingertip sliding over the tender flesh after she releases it from her teeth.
“You can’t what?”
“Stop. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.” Her tongue is in my mouth, hips circling hard, keeping me deep. “Fuck me. Please.”
I grab her hips and lift her, thrusting up as I drop her back down, sheathing myself in her. Her moan is loud, pained even.
I stop, uncertain how to read the tension in her body. This is different than what I know of her. This isn’t like Bora Bora. “Amie.”
She pulls back, eyes blazing, but her words are a plea. “We don’t have a lot of time. Fuck me.”
She lifts until only the head is still inside. I hold her hips, pulling her onto me as she drops. “Like that?”
“Harder.”
I do it again.
“Faster.”
And again.
“More.”
I want this to last. I want it to go on for hours. I want to take her back to my place and get her naked, keep her that way until tomorrow morning. I want coffee and breakfast, I want to watch her get dressed, I want to kiss her as she walks out my door, but all we have are two blocks.
She rides me hard, meeting each thrust, slamming down on me until her mouth falls open and she buries her face against my chest. I can feel her teeth through my suit. The tremor that runs through her body is violent, fabric muffling the sound of her orgasm.
I keep pumping, chasing my release, the feel of her clenching around me pushes me closer to the edge. And then I’m coming, blindingly hard, my rhythm falters, erratic and strained until I still. Amie nuzzles into my neck, breath evening out. I wrap my arms around her, holding her against me, feeling the chasm growing between us even though we’re still connected physically. I’m suddenly exhausted. All this waiting and all I get are five frantic minutes in the back of a car.
We come to a stop and the intercom buzzes. “We’ve arrived, sir.”
I hold her tighter. Our stolen time is about to disappear, and there’s nothing I can do to keep her.
The answer to that question is I don’t know. Probably not is more accurate. But seeing her, being here with her, makes me want to see more of her. “Be your friend? I can be whatever you want.” I reach across the table and stroke the back of her hand. Even the benign contact meant to soothe sends fire through my veins. All that electric lust shuts down every rational part of my brain. The parts that knows I should walk away, but can’t. Her eyes drift closed and her breath leaves her on a soft whimper. “Tell me what you want, Amie.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
She meets my gaze with an imploring one of her own. “I’m still married, even if it’s only on paper. If anyone found out about us, it would make this so much worse.”
“That’s okay. No one has to know.”
“Is that really okay for you?”
“It is if you want it to be.” I shouldn’t be pushing her, but I don’t want to leave behind what happened in Bora Bora. It’s not fair of me. She’s right to say it’s not a good idea. The wedding was two months ago, and she’s only been home for a few weeks. Not nearly enough time to get over what’s happened. They’re still sorting things out with lawyers. She’s still technically married and trying to get her feet back under her, and here I am, pulling the rug out by offering her things I shouldn’t.
“I can’t get you out of my head,” she says softly, eyes brimming with conflicted emotion.
I don’t know what the message is that she’s trying to convey. Keep pushing? Don’t push? “Do you want me out of your head?”
Her teeth press into her lip. She doesn’t nod.
“So then stop trying.”
“I should really get back to work.” The waver in her voice is telling. She wants to leave but she can’t. And I’m enough of an asshole to make it even harder to walk away from me.
“How far is work?”
“A couple of blocks.”
“I’ll have my car come get us.” I pick up my phone and fire off a message.
“I can walk that distance faster than a car can drive it.”
“I know.”
“Lex.” Her breathing is shallow, quick.
“He’s around the corner, he’ll be here in less than two minutes.”
She hesitates for a second, then gathers her things, hands trembling as she shoves file folders in her bag. I help her into her coat, fingers grazing the back of her neck. She makes a soft noise and leans into the touch, and then we’re out the door, stepping into the cold New York afternoon. The car doesn’t even come to a full stop in front of the café before I wrench the door open, motioning for Amie to get in.
“Where’s your office?” I ask as she slides across the seat to make room for me.
She murmurs the address and I bark it to the driver, hitting the button for privacy.
The divider isn’t even fully closed before I’m on her, lips crashing together, teeth clashing. She grabs the back of my neck and moans into my mouth. I mirror the sound, hands roaming her curves through her clothes.
Mouths still connected, she yanks down the zipper on her skirt and shimmies out of it. She’s wearing thigh highs and pale lace panties. “Don’t want to go back to work a wrinkled mess.” She straddles me, fighting with the buttons on my suit jacket because her hands are shaking so much.
I cover them with one of mine. “Are you sure you want to do this?” What the fuck?
“Why ask now?” she snaps.
“I don’t want you to regret me again.”
“I didn’t regret you in the first place.” She gets to work on my belt, freeing the clasp, and popping the button on my pants, pulling down the zipper. Her soft, warm hand wraps around my cock and we both groan. “I can’t wait to feel you in me again. Why do you have to be so good at fucking me?” She’s almost angry, a lamented sound falls from her lips as she strokes me. “Get a condom.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I lift my hips and dig around for my wallet.
She snatches it from me, flipping it open. She pauses for a second, her gaze suddenly hard as she retrieves the foil square. “Have you fucked anyone else?”
I shake my head.
“Good.” She tears the wrapper.
“You?”
“No.”
I cup her through her panties and she arches into the touch. When I try to get under the lace and satin, she pushes my hand out of the way. “You don’t want my fingers first?”
“I just want you.”
“You sure? You’re gonna be sore.” I know this because we’d done it before in Bora Bora and it slowed us down for about twenty-four hours. In the days after she left, I kept going back to that night in particular, thinking about how I would’ve done things differently so I could’ve had more of her.
“Good. I want to feel you into next week.” She uses the head of my cock to push her panties to the side and drops down without any warning.
Her mouth falls open, her shocked gasp a good indicator that some prep would’ve been a better idea. But Christ, does it ever feel good to be inside her again. She grabs my chin, her nails digging into my jaw, lips brushing over mine. “This. You. I can’t.” She bites my bottom lip, fingertip sliding over the tender flesh after she releases it from her teeth.
“You can’t what?”
“Stop. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.” Her tongue is in my mouth, hips circling hard, keeping me deep. “Fuck me. Please.”
I grab her hips and lift her, thrusting up as I drop her back down, sheathing myself in her. Her moan is loud, pained even.
I stop, uncertain how to read the tension in her body. This is different than what I know of her. This isn’t like Bora Bora. “Amie.”
She pulls back, eyes blazing, but her words are a plea. “We don’t have a lot of time. Fuck me.”
She lifts until only the head is still inside. I hold her hips, pulling her onto me as she drops. “Like that?”
“Harder.”
I do it again.
“Faster.”
And again.
“More.”
I want this to last. I want it to go on for hours. I want to take her back to my place and get her naked, keep her that way until tomorrow morning. I want coffee and breakfast, I want to watch her get dressed, I want to kiss her as she walks out my door, but all we have are two blocks.
She rides me hard, meeting each thrust, slamming down on me until her mouth falls open and she buries her face against my chest. I can feel her teeth through my suit. The tremor that runs through her body is violent, fabric muffling the sound of her orgasm.
I keep pumping, chasing my release, the feel of her clenching around me pushes me closer to the edge. And then I’m coming, blindingly hard, my rhythm falters, erratic and strained until I still. Amie nuzzles into my neck, breath evening out. I wrap my arms around her, holding her against me, feeling the chasm growing between us even though we’re still connected physically. I’m suddenly exhausted. All this waiting and all I get are five frantic minutes in the back of a car.
We come to a stop and the intercom buzzes. “We’ve arrived, sir.”
I hold her tighter. Our stolen time is about to disappear, and there’s nothing I can do to keep her.
