Just when I'm starting to think he's never going to notice, he turns his head just slightly.
I see it - that moment where he's startled, then taken aback, then realizes I'm clearly playing an angle. He turns around slowly, a smile playing at his lips.
I wave a little, and I can see him chuckle.
The glass is too thick for me to hear his voice, and he seems to be mostly listening to the conversation, anyway. Maybe it's some kind of conference call. Ugh. Horribly boring, wouldn't wish them on my worst enemy.
I can make it a little more interesting.
He's the only one who can see me, all the way up here. I'm pretending to play with my collar, letting my hand trail down my shirt, casually finding a button and slipping it through the hole. His eyes narrow slightly, and he takes a step closer.
With my shirt now gaping open, I get up and saunter over to the mini bar. Fetching a tiny bottle of scotch and a glass, I shovel some ice in and pour. I'm not looking at him now, but I hope I still have his attention.
I do.
Returning to my chair, I stir the drink with my finger and raise it to my mouth, slowly sucking off the liquor. It burns bitter on my tongue, but I close my eyes in pleasure.
Adrian's still pressing the phone to his ear, but his other hand is a clenched fist. I don't have him completely hooked. Not yet.
I set down my drink, and unbutton my shirt the rest of the way. Letting it slip from my shoulders, I glance at him from under my lashes. He's shaking his head, and he shows me the flat of his palm. He's still not letting himself smile all the way, but I know it's more of a promise than a threat.
I'm cupping my breasts, one in each hand, letting my nipples stiffen and come to life. It doesn't take long, looking at him. Watching him slowly unravel. I can see him starting to get hard, and that's all the encouragement I need - even if he's not acknowledging it.
I unhook my bra and toss it aside.
Through the glass, I see his Adam's apple bob up and down. His eyes close slightly, and he takes a step forward.
I stand up, walking towards him. His hand reaches for the glass, as if it could meet with mine, and I mirror him, so that our fingertips almost appear to touch.
Our eyes meet, and I quickly realize I'm in over my head. We're sharing something more than a striptease. My heart's thumping like crazy and I can't put my finger on what, exactly, is happening - I just know it's not what I signed up for.
Suddenly, he lowers the phone.
Shoves it in his pocket.
And then he's reaching for the door handle.
I can't hold back my grin. He tugs, then tugs again. Frowning, he looks up at me.
This time it's easy enough to read his lips, because I already know what he's saying.
It's locked.
I just shrug. Can't hear you.
His eyes darken. It's fucking locked.
I shake my head, pointing to my ear.
He takes out his phone again, and in a moment, mine's buzzing. But I pretend not to hear it.
Adrian pounds on the glass, glaring at me. I just keep shrugging and smiling, and retreat to my bed, picking up my discarded shirt along the way and pulling it on.
A moment later he disappears, and the knocking displaces itself to the connecting door. I keep on ignoring it, even when it stops and reappears again, this time coming from the hallway.
I pick up my phone, now that he's out of sight.
YOU BITCH
I'm giggling like a loon.
You reap what you sow, Mr. R.
The response comes fast and furious.
You'll fucking regret this when you finally let me get my hands on you
I sense a shadow passing by the glass doors, and I look up. He's got his belt in one hand, and his tie in the other, and he's wearing a sexy glower on his face that would make any woman fucking melt. I give him another what? look, and he rolls his eyes before pulling out his phone again. The text comes a moment later:
Use your imagination.
I laugh, tossing the phone down on the bed. He disappears again, and this time he doesn't come back.
As much fun as it would be to let him in, he needs to pay for teasing me earlier. And I have a feeling things are only going to get better, the longer I let him simmer.
***
After I've waited for a while to make sure I don't run into Adrian in the hallway, I grab a few drinks with Izzy at the hotel bar to kill some time. She asks me some probing questions about my relationship with Adrian, but I manage to dodge them, more or less. She's definitely sensing some vibes, though. Thankfully, she has another party to go to - a private one, this time, so I'm not invited.
Good. I've got something else on the agenda for tonight.
After a long elevator ride, I take a deep breath, and knock on his door. It doesn't take him long to answer, and he's got a key card in his hand when I do.
"I meant to give you this earlier," he says. "Although, for the record, the connecting door is unlocked on my side."
I'm slightly taken aback. "…thanks."
He shrugs, turning around and ambling back to the desk, where he's got a few papers spread out. "No expectations. Just, if you want to move your stuff in here, you're welcome to. I won't make the mistake of doing it again myself."
I roll my eyes. "For the record, what normal people do is this: 'hey, you know, if you want to share a room for the rest of the trip, feel free to bring your bags in here and claim a spot for your toothbrush.'"
"I didn't want to come on too strong." He shrugs.
I give him a look.
"Okay, in retrospect, yes." He makes a conciliatory gesture. "I see your point. You can stop looking at me like that."
"I really don't know if I can," I tell him.
He sighs. "I thought maybe…I didn't want you think I was joking. That's all. So I, you know, I committed the cardinal sin of touching your stuff."
"And breaking into my room," I point out.
"Breaking in." He scoffs. "I had the key."
"Which you took out of my pocket."
"Which you left on my floor," he says. "How is moving your belongings more of a violation of privacy than literally putting a part of my body inside of your body?"
I throw myself across the bed with a dramatic sigh. "Normal people don't ask these kinds of questions, Adrian. Normal people just respect other people's boundaries without making it into an existential dilemma. And normal people don't go through a woman's clothes to find her hotel key."
"Going through is a strong term," he says. "It's not like I was looking for your panties."
"Wow." I roll over and glare at him. "You should really stop talking at this point."
He shakes his head, sitting back down at the desk. "That's just as well. I have work to do."
Work? Seriously? Is he going to play hard to get now?
I get back on my feet, because apparently, having a willing woman sprawled across his bed isn't enough of an enticement. "The only reason you weren't looking for panties is because you already got a pair," I purr, coming up behind him and draping my arms across his shoulders. "You can keep those, by the way."
"Hmm." He's actually still pretending to pay attention to those papers, the asshole.
I step back.
"Oh, not good enough? Want me to dress up like a stewardess?"
He blinks. "Sorry?"
I'm not proud of myself for bringing that up, but hey, now it's out there. "Come on, don't pretend like you weren't drooling over her on the flight over." I'm trying to laugh it off, to sound casual, like I'm just poking fun at him. Instead of, you know, seething with jealousy. Considering how we've spent the majority of our time here so far, it's pretty ridiculous that I can't just let this go.
Of course, it's not really her I'm jealous of. But the last thing I want to think about right now is Kara.
"I'm sure your ass would look fantastic in a little blue skirt," he admits, capturing my wrist and pulling me close. "But
if you opened your eyes, Meghan, you would've noticed I was mostly looking at you. The only difference is that you didn't want to see it. I spent the whole car ride over trying not to notice how far your skirt rode up your thighs. I was in a bad state. Very, very bad."
He stands up, and drags my hand down to his fly, pressing it firmly against him so I can feel how he stiffens at my touch. "And when you get a man into that kind of mood, he happens to notice if a woman's buttocks are directly at eye level. It's difficult not to." He unzips and guides my hand between the folds of fabric. "But it doesn't mean she's the one I really want."
"I'm not jealous," I insist, squeezing him gently.
His eyes close for a moment. "Of course you're not," he says, roughly. "Why would you be? She's not the one with her hand down my pants right now, is she?"
I let out a soft snort, which does nothing to flag his arousal. "Like you'd say no."
Adrian grabs a handful of my hair, yanking my head back just enough to make me gasp. "Do you really want to run through the laundry list of every woman in the world I'd be willing to fuck? Would that make you happy?" His eyes flicker with anger and lust. "I've fucked a lot of women, Ms. Burns. Let's not make any mistake about that. I can't say how many, not just because it's some obscene number, but because I don't know. Is that what you want to hear?"
I'm still stroking him. Faster, in fact. My heart's pounding and I feel like I can't catch my breath.
"I don't know and I don't care," he growls, "but I'd rather be here now, getting an angry handjob from you, than have an orgy with every single one of them. Is that fucking clear?"
My knees buckle, and he catches me, slamming me against his body. My hand and his cock are trapped there, immobile, and I feel him throbbing to the same insistent beat of my arousal.
"I don't care if you believe me or not, because it's true." He leans down and kisses me, savagely, not pulling away until I bite his lip. "Fuck," he hisses, touching the spot where I hurt him. "You want to play rough, baby girl?"
"Maybe." I bite my own lip, trying to hide a grin. I'm better than an orgy of models and heiresses. I don't think for a moment that he really meant it, but it's the hottest thing anybody's ever said to me, so right now, I really don't care.
"The safe word is red." He grabs me and spins me around, pulling me flush against him. Grinding into my ass. His hand slides down my front and stops between my legs, pushing my skirt out of way to cup me possessively. "Mine. Understand?"
I nod, and he nuzzles my neck, nibbling at my earlobe. I shudder at the sensation, circling my hips, rubbing against him while I push myself against his fingers. We both moan in unison, and his teeth scrape my shoulder.
"If any of those pretty boy model motherfuckers so much as touches you, I'll knock their god damn teeth out," he whispers. "And then I'll fuck you for hours until you remember that you're mine."
"Tempting," I gasp, as his fingers push my panties aside and quest deeper. "But I'd rather skip to step two and avoid the violence."
His other hand grabs my breasts, manhandling one and then the other, feeling my nipples desperately stiff like pebbles under my lacy bra. It does absolutely nothing to hide my reaction, and for once I'm grateful.
"That firefighter," he murmurs. "The one who was looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. Would it be like this with him?" He curls his fingers inside, and I cry out. "Would your body react like this for another man?"
"No," I whimper. "Please, Adrian…"
"Sir," he growls. "You will address me with the proper respect."
"Please, Sir." He's the only thing holding me upright now, as his thumb glides along my clit and suspends me on the edge. I don't even know what I'm asking him for, but he does.
"Come for me." His thumb moves in little circles, making it impossible not to obey.
Gasping and shuddering, I clench around his fingers. It's hard and quick, the intensity taking me completely by surprise.
"Mmm…thank you, Sir," I whisper, as he pulls his hand away. He turns me around to face him, his eyes black with arousal.
"Good girl." He's pressing the tip of his thumb against my mouth and I suck him in, eyes closing, laving him with my tongue. I taste myself on his skin, and it's electrifying. "Someone's finally learned the meaning of gratitude."
I look at him through hooded eyes. When he pulls this thumb away, I lick my lips in appreciation. "Let me show you how grateful I am," I purr.
"Oh, you want to thank me properly?" He smiles, dark and predatory. Even though his erection is still sticking out of his fly, he's undoing his belt and letting his pants fall to the ground. This should probably look silly, with his shirt and his damn jacket still on, but it really, really doesn't. "Beg to suck my cock."
Heart racing, I kneel at his feet. "Please, sir. Let me make you come with my mouth. I need to be reminded of who it belongs to."
He curses softly, grabbing my head and pulling me forward. "You were born to do this, you know that?"
I can't really argue. I've never felt this alive, every nerve zinging and sparking with excitement. Not just arousal, but adrenaline. I could be quoting directly from one of his books, but I'm not - my own imagination has taken over, my own desires and secret wants spilling from my lips. I might be on my knees, with half of my hair tangled in his unyielding grip, but this tastes like power.
I'm hungry for it. I want more, I want it all, now. It's like I'm possessed, my nails digging into the tight muscles of his ass while he thrusts shallowly into my mouth. What a sweetheart - remembering that I need to breathe. I would smirk, if my mouth wasn't full of his cock.
When he comes, hot and eager in my mouth, he hardly gives me any time to react before he's yanking me back to my feet. I rush to swallow, catching the last drips with my tongue, and he tosses me on the bed before shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt off over his head. Too much of a hassle to unbutton the whole thing, I suppose.
His legs are still trembling from the aftershocks, but he's got that hungry look in his eyes. One orgasm isn't enough to satisfy whatever lust I've inspired. He's completely naked now, and as good as he looks in suits, I'm pretty sure I prefer him this way.
From the floor, he retrieves his belt and his tie. My heartbeat quickens as I remember when he promised earlier. I'm still not sure exactly what it is, but I can't wait to find out.
It's strange. I'm still fully clothed, but I couldn't possibly feel any more vulnerable under his gaze. Adrian, on the other hand, radiates power like this. From the sculpted muscles of his chest, to the powerful lengths of sinew in his legs, to the half-hard cock swinging between them, there is absolutely nothing vulnerable about him.
"Hands above your head," he commands.
I do it, and he leans over me, his knee pressing into the mattress and into my ribs. I squirm a little while he wraps the belt around my wrists, fastening it with a long tail for easy grabbing.
"Move with me, and don't fight it," he murmurs. "Shoulders are delicate. If something hurts, safe word. Right away. Do you understand?"
I nod.
He uses the belt to pull me upright, and I follow his instructions, not letting too much of the pressure land on my shoulders. For a moment he just watches me, his eyes searching every part of me, like he's looking for something. I don't know what.
Finally, he drops my arms. They fall in front of me, the tail of the belt snapping against my thigh and making me wince. I'm glad he didn't decide to spank me with it, although I suppose the night is young.
Next, he picks up the tie, and wraps it around my eyes.
As soon as I'm bathed in darkness, I feel my arousal climb up a few notches higher. My breathing quickens, and I'm instinctively searching for other cues to tell me where he is. I think I can still feel the heat of his body, close, but I'm second-guessing myself.
"Spread your legs."
He's at least several feet away. I do what he asks, taking a wide stance, as much as the skirt allows. I hear a tiny rip, and I rea
lize I've pushed things a little too far.
I jump when I feel his hands on my hips, very suddenly. From the sound of his breathing, he must be kneeling behind me. I feel something strange, cold metal, I think, sliding against my skin.
Snick.
The skirt, and my brand new panties, flutter away.
I gasp. "That was expensive!"
Seriously? That's all I can think of, at a time like this?
"I know." He's chuckling. "I paid for it, remember?"
His breath tickles me, brushing past the inside of my thigh. My whole body stiffens.
"If you're a good girl, I'll buy you ten more," he whispers, before I feel him kissing me deeply, right on my quivering pussy. I let out a keening moan, trying to figure out where the hell he is, what angle he's coming from. His hands clasp around my shins, helping me stay upright, and he's clearly in front of me now, but I don't know when that happened.
No one's ever actually kissed me like this, just as if he's kissing my mouth, except it couldn't be more different. His lips rub against sensitized flesh, his tongue sliding and exploring inside me. I'm trembling, once again utterly astonished at his ability to make such a simple, commonplace act feel totally unlike anything I've experienced before.
I'm shaking all over, and I don't know how long it's been, hours or minutes? Probably minutes. Maybe seconds. Hell if I know.
"Sir?" I whisper, urgently.
He makes a muffled noise, but he doesn't stop.
"Sir!" I whimper. "Please - I have to ask you something."
He pulls back, slowly, kissing my thigh as he does. "Yes, princess?"
My chest contracts painfully. Terms of endearment sound so good, coming from him. Even if they're a tiny bit sarcastic. I lick my lips, trying to find my voice again. "Do I have permission to come?"
I can hear him grin. "When I'm doing this? Always. Unless I tell you otherwise."
His Secretary: Undone Page 12
