by HELEN HARDT
“Fuck.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means fuck. I fucked up. I fucked this whole thing up.”
She nods. “You did. And so did I.”
I can’t fault her words. We’re both to blame.
“I’ve been an asshole,” I say.
“You have been, and I’ve been rude and insensitive.”
“You have been,” I say.
“I’m sure we both have our reasons.”
“I’m sure we do,” I agree, “but we’re adults, and we’re professionals.”
“True.”
“So what can I do to get you to stay?”
I have no idea what to expect, but what she ultimately says isn’t anywhere on my radar.
“You can kiss me again.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ashley
I clasp my hand to my lips.
Did I really just say that?
Good going, Ash. He’ll be gunning to get rid of you now.
His eyes darken once more to the mossy green. He inches closer, and he opens his mouth.
He’s going to say something douchey. I know this already, and I brace myself.
Until he grabs my hand away from my mouth, and his lips are on mine, probing the seam.
I open gladly, and he sweeps his tongue around mine. This is no gentle kiss. Not soft, like the last time.
This is a raw kiss. A kiss borne in anger and unsated lust.
Oh, yes. He’s angry with me, as I am with him. The ire coils through me and around me, and the growl from his throat enrobes me in that gorgeous red color of his voice.
We’re swimming in a sea of Syrah, our lips sliding together, our tongues twirling. He cups one cheek, and his other hand… God, yes. He covers my breast and squeezes lightly. Just lightly, but my nipple tightens and is so hard I swear it could cut a diamond.
Instead of giving it the hard pinch it yearns for, though, Dale slides his hand upward to my shoulder and glides the strap of my tank down my arm so one breast pops free.
The air hits my nipple, and it’s harder than ever now.
He releases my cheek and, with his other hand, slides the other strap of my tank down until both my boobs are free.
He breaks the kiss and inhales a sharp breath.
“God. Your tits are as perfect as I knew they’d be.”
They’re nice, round and perky, but they’re small. A B cup on a good day. His sisters and mom all have huge boobs. He’s used to—
But before I can dwell any more on my small tits, he clamps his lips around one.
I gasp, and my nerves skitter along my flesh. His mouth is burning hot on my nipple, the suction so perfect and complete.
I thread my fingers through his amazing honey hair. It’s soft as silk, just as I knew it would be. I could spend hours touching his hair. Touching him. He groans against the flesh of my breast, his lips still clamped around my nipple.
The throbbing between my legs has intensified into a deep ache, a deep need. I want him. I want Dale. I want all of him.
Right. Now.
“Is anyone else coming in today?” I ask, breathless.
“Maybe,” he rasps. “Don’t care.”
I close my eyes, letting the sound and color of his voice embrace me in a psychedelic hug. The feelings overwhelm me. Feelings of lust and desire and pure passion. I want more of his kisses. More of his mouth on my body.
He cups my other breast, teasing the nipple with his fingers. It’s already taut and hard, and his touch… God, his touch…
A sigh escapes my throat with a high squeak. A sound I’m not sure I’ve ever made before. A sound for him. For Dale.
He lets my nipple drop. It glistens from his mouth, and his breath is hot against me. “I could suck on these all day.”
“No one’s stopping you,” I reply breathlessly.
Then I freeze.
He’s going to stop. He’s going to work me up and then just stop. He’s going to realize he made a mistake. An unprofessional mistake.
And in this moment, I know.
I know I’ll do anything to have him this one time.
Even the unthinkable.
I’ll leave. I’ll give up the internship.
“Please,” I say. “Don’t stop. Make love to me, Dale.”
“I want to.”
“Then do it. Please.”
God, I sound ridiculous. I’ve never begged a man to make love to me in my life. Sure, there’ve been a few hot encounters where I said, “Please fuck me,” but they hardly count.
First of all, I don’t want a simple fuck from Dale Steel.
I want to make love. I want to touch every part of him, and not just his body. I want to know what makes him tick. I want to know what he’s hiding, what he’ll never let anyone see.
“I can’t.”
“You can.” I cup his cheeks, scraping my fingers against his blond stubble. “Please.”
“I want to. I want it more than anything.”
“Then take it. Take me.”
“Fuck.” He rises, his green gaze burning down onto me. “You’re so beautiful.”
My skin warms, and a rosy blush creeps onto the tops of my breasts already swollen and plumper than they’ve ever been.
“So are you.”
He smiles. A big smile, and my God, it’s a gorgeous sight. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever said that about me.”
I widen my eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”
He shakes his head. “I never kid.”
“But you are. You’re beautiful. Handsome, spectacular, magnificent. All of it.”
He blushes. Just slightly, but I notice. Have I actually embarrassed him?
“I can’t do this,” he says again, “no matter how much I want to. It’s not…”
“What?”
“It’s unprofessional. It’s not who I am.”
I drop my gaze to the big—oh yeah, big—bulge in his jeans. “Seems your body disagrees.”
“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head.
“Try me.”
“I don’t know how to love.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. You love your family. I see it in the way you look at them.”
“That’s not the kind of love I mean.”
I know what he means. I open my mouth. I’m not asking for your love.
But the words get stuck in my throat.
Why? I barely know him. I don’t want his love. I want his body. Right here and right now.
I glide one finger over his full lower lip. I want to lick it. Bite it.
“Have you…” I can’t finish the sentence.
“Been with women?” He smiles again. “Yes.”
Whew. For a minute there I was wondering. Not that I have an issue with deflowering a male virgin. I’ve done it a few times before. A sliver of jealousy pierces my heart. Surprising. Does some part of me actually want him to be a virgin? Do I want to be his first?
No, can’t be.
I drop my gaze once more. Still hard as a rock. This dumb conversation hasn’t killed his boner. Good thing. I’m so ripe. If I were a Syrah grape, I’d have fallen from the vine long ago.
He’s obviously attracted to me. His hard dick is proof enough of that.
“Then why do you resist?”
He doesn’t answer. He simply sears me with that gorgeous green gaze.
“I don’t want to just fuck you,” he says. “We’re going to work together. It’s not right.”
Seems very right from where I’m standing.
Again, though, the words don’t come. They lodge in my throat like a pill that’s hard to swallow.
“What if…” I swallow the metaphorical pill stuck in my throat.
“What?” he asks.
“What if…I leave? I give up the internship? Will you make love to me then?”
“You’re willing to give up this internship just to sleep with me?” He shakes his head.<
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I can’t believe I’m about to say it, but it’s true. I’ll do anything to sleep with him this one time. Fucking anything. That’s how much I want him. How much he moves me with the sound and color of his voice, with his devotion to his vineyards, with his sheer male beauty.
Which means it’s the wrong decision.
Except I don’t care. I don’t give a rat’s ass about anything but having Dale Steel in this moment. It’s frightening, yes, but I’ve always been a go-getter. I had to be, to rise above my childhood.
“I’m not going to let you make that mistake,” he says.
“It’s my mistake to make.”
“No, it’s both of ours. Diana will never forgive me if—”
“For God’s sake, Dale.” I whip my hands to my hips. “Forget what Diana wants. Forget about what your father or your mother or anyone else wants. What do you want?”
He’s still erect. The bulge is huge and apparent. I know what he wants, at least physically.
He doesn’t answer. Not right away. He looks upward, as if he’s considering all the angles. Or maybe he’s just looking at the damned ceiling. I have no clue.
No fucking clue how Dale’s mind works. Not a one, and that’s a big turn-on in itself. I’m used to men, to getting what I want from them, letting them take what they want from me. I’m good at seducing. It’s a transaction, in a sense, though no one’s getting paid. I like sex. Men like sex. The perfect storm.
And here’s Dale Steel. The most magnificent man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s a mystery to me. I don’t know how to talk to him, let alone seduce him. I want him more than I’ve wanted any other man, and I don’t have the first idea how to make it happen.
“I want you,” he finally says. “You, Ashley. I want to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk.”
I open my mouth to tell him to do it already, but he stops me with a gesture.
“And I have no business wanting any of that.”
“It’s not a sin to be attracted to each other,” I reply.
“Did I say it was?”
“Well, yeah. In a sense, anyway. You’re not a virgin, so what’s the issue?”
He shakes his head. “There are so many issues that I can’t even begin to explain them.”
I open my mouth and then abruptly shut it. I don’t want him to try to explain. I’m interested, yes, but at the moment, all I want is his lips back on mine. His hands on my breasts.
“Just looking at you,” he continues. “You and your perfect tits. Do you have any idea what it does to me?”
I drop my gaze to his still bulging crotch. “I have an idea.” Then I squirm to ease the tickle between my legs. “If it’s any consolation, you’re doing the same thing to me.”
Should I pull my tank back over my chest? My nipples are as erect as his cock, straining forward. I want him so badly, ache for his body inside mine, yearn to experience the sounds and colors of his lovemaking.
“It’s not a consolation,” he says. “I don’t want you to ache the way I ache.”
“There’s a pretty easy way to help us both.” I smile.
He grips my shoulders then. His touch is harsh, but he doesn’t hurt me. “Don’t you get it? You’re not hearing me. I can’t do this. Not with you.”
“Not with me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means…” He removes one hand from my shoulder and rakes his long fingers through his mane of blond hair. “I don’t know what the fuck it means.”
I gather all the moxie inside me and grab the bulge in his jeans. “At least let me take care of this for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dale
Just last night, when Ashley knelt down to pet Penny, I imagined her on her knees in front of me, her pretty lips around my cock.
And now…she’s offering. I’m fucking hard as a rock, balls as blue as ever.
It’s not that I’m not used to women coming on to me. I rarely go out to bars and such, but when I do, I get attention. Until I send one or two of them walking. Then I get left alone.
A few times, I’ve taken them up on their offers. I’m still a guy, and a guy has needs.
Fuck. Right now, my need is as great as it’s ever been.
I just don’t know how to be with a woman like Ashley. Someone I’m not just attracted to physically. But what the hell else is it? I’ve known her for twenty-four hours. That’s it. And in that tiny amount of time, I’ve shown her…me.
Well…as much of me as I’ve ever shown anyone. Parts of me will always be hidden.
She glides her hand over my denim-covered cock, and I swear, I feel more than I’ve ever felt with any other woman.
She edges her fingertips under my waistband, and God…her touch! She pries open the top button of my jeans and then unzips the fly slowly.
Achingly slowly.
Stop her. Stop her, Dale. This can’t happen. This can’t…
But it’s happening. The tip of my cock is between her pink lips.
I’m large. I know it, but it doesn’t seem to faze Ashley. She takes me more than halfway, adding a layer of suction I’ve never experienced before.
“Fuck,” I grit out.
I’m about to blow already.
Maybe I should. Just get it over with so I can go on with my life. Forget Ashley White and what she does to me.
Except I have a feeling I’ll never be able to forget Ashley White. Even if she gives up the internship and leaves tomorrow with Diana.
I’ll never fucking forget her.
Her lips sing to my cock as they glide back and forth with the perfect amount of suction.
And I really mean perfect.
Even in my limited experience, I recognize the perfect blow job.
Given by the perfect woman.
I’m so fucked.
My balls are trembling—scrunched up and trembling—and already I know I’m going to come. The only question is…do I want to come in her perfect mouth or inside her perfect pussy?
For it’s perfect. I already know.
Her mouth.
If I take her, get inside her and fuck her…
I won’t be able to let her go.
And I have to let her go.
For her own sake as well as my own.
I match her rhythm, fuck her mouth, try to resist the urge to grab her blond ponytail but find I can’t. Her hair is like silk, and I guide her, help her take a millimeter more each time until she almost has my whole cock in her warm mouth.
Yes, so perfect, so—
“I’m going to come. Tell me if I need to get out of your mouth.” But please don’t tell me to get out of your mouth.
She continues, not resisting.
Thank God.
The tiny surges begin, flaming through me, until the dam breaks and I burst inside her, exploding on her tongue.
For a split second, I’m invincible. Bulletproof. My whole world is my groin, and pleasure quakes through me at a million miles an hour.
She takes me, still sliding her lips back and forth, milking every last drop from my cock.
And fuck…
It’s the most satisfying orgasm of my life. Made even more satisfying when I withdraw from her mouth and she doesn’t run away to spit. She swallows. Takes me truly inside her body.
I need to say something to her. Thank her? That seems weird. Tell her how wonderful she was? True, but not enough. Those words don’t even begin to describe the ecstasy she gave me.
I settle for, “Wow.”
She smiles, her lips glistening. “I agree.”
“You…enjoy doing that?” I ask.
“Of course. Otherwise, why would I do it?”
She has me there. Now what? Her gorgeous tits are still out, her perfect nipples erect. Do I leave her unsatisfied? That’s hardly fair. But no way can I fuck her. I’ll never be able to give her up if I do.
And I must give her up.
That’s just reality.
I hastily tuck my semi-hard dick back into my pants and zip them up. Ashley makes no move to pull her tank over her tits.
“Take off your shorts,” I say, willing my voice not to crack.
She unzips them, lets them fall to the ground, and steps out of them. I suck in a breath. She’s wearing a pink thong.
And her tan lines… They’re nonexistent. She must sunbathe in the nude.
“Are you wet?” I ask, my voice even lower than usual.
She nods and inches toward me. I grab her hand and lead her back to my office. I want her bent over my desk. God, the image in my head alone has me hard again.
I guide her to my desk. “Bend over,” I say darkly.
I drop to my knees and touch the rosy cheeks of her ass. She’s soft. Every part of her is soft. I grab the thread of her thong and push it down over her hips until it’s a sliver of pink on the floor. She steps out of it, leaving her legs farther apart than they were before. The view is…
Astounding.
She’s pink and swollen and gorgeous. I glide my fingers between her legs.
And wet.
Slick and wet.
I’m hard again. Harder even than I was before. I could so easily drop my jeans and slide inside her, revel in her tightness, her sweetness.
No.
For both our sakes, I hold back. Instead, I grab her rosy cheeks and slide my tongue between them.
I almost expect her to taste like the Syrah grapes we both love. She doesn’t, of course. She’s tangy and sweet at the same time, like one of the Fuji apples my dad grows in his orchard. My favorite of all his fruit.
I lick her again, and then once more. As beautiful as she is this way, her ass in my face, I want to devour her. I pull back, turn her around, and set her on the edge of my desk. “Spread those legs for me.”
She obeys, and now I have a bird’s-eye view of the glory that is Ashley. Her little clit is swollen, her folds are slick and shiny, and between them is the paradise I crave. The paradise I’ll experience only with my tongue and fingers.
Not my cock, no matter how much I ache for it.
