by Maggie Marr
She bent forward, looked up through her lashes, and put her lips over the head of his cock. Her tongue flicked along the head of him, and again air rushed out of his mouth. His hands were on her head and his fingertips wove through her hair. A gentle and firm touch, and her body responded with more threads of heat. She opened her mouth and slid her lips down his shaft. She wanted to pull him into her mouth and make him come as he’d done to her over and over and over again.
“Yes,” he said in a voice that caused her sex to clench. “Yes, Prim, take it, take it all.”
She did. She opened her throat and pushed him deep into her mouth. Her tongue wrapped around his shaft, and she pulled him and sucked back and forth, her hands stroking along his length with the rhythm of her mouth.
“Yes, yes,” he said.
He grew even bigger in her mouth, harder. His breathing now came in hard, choppy bursts. His hips jerked back. The soft, smooth rhythm became more erratic as she sucked harder and moved faster along his cock. Her hand cupped his balls, tender and soft.
“Fuck,” he growled. He pushed his cock deeper into her mouth.
She took him, she wanted him. She reached around and clasped her nails into the hard, tight muscles of his ass.
“Fuck, Prim, I’m going to come. Baby, I’m going to come.”
His words heated her. She sucked harder until the hot come shot into her mouth and down her throat, salty and good. She continued to suck and swallow until he bent over her with a long, pulsing gasp, holding her head as if supporting her. She clenched tighter and took one last long suck. One final spurt entered her mouth. She slid her lips slowly along his shaft and released him. A shudder pulsed through his body. Her tongue licked the head of his cock one final time.
Prim turned her face up to Tristan. His gaze met hers, and he leaned toward her and pressed his lips to hers. He pulled away, and the gleam in his eyes caused a shiver to race up Prim’s spine.
“I hope you enjoyed that, because now I am going to make you come until you beg me to stop.”
Prim licked her lips. Tristan lifted her and moved her up the bed, then laid her back against the soft pillows.
“Now it’s my turn.” His face, his lips, were so close to her skin. Whispers of heat from his breath licked at her flesh, already sensitive and aroused, and yet he didn’t touch her, he didn’t kiss her, just moved over her until his face was above her sex. He kissed the top of her thigh and gently pulled open her legs. He lifted each leg and set it over his shoulder. He knelt between her legs, inches from her sex.
“Your pussy is beautiful.”
His tongue slowly stroked up the center of her wet sex. She clamped down and her hips rolled. His tongue slipped into the fold and he licked up the side until he reached the button, her clit, at the top where he paused.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Prim, so sweet, so beautiful.” The heat of his breath stroked her sex. “Not yet.” Instead of clasping his mouth around her clit, his tongue stroked down the other side of her sex. His fingers slid into her. He pulsed his fingers in and then out and then in again. “Tight for me.”
“Yes.” Prim’s voice was breathless, awash with desire.
“Say it.”
“Tight for you, Tristan, I’m tight for you.”
With her words, his mouth clamped upon her clit and he sucked. Pleasure lit through her, a hot desperate fire. Her hips rolled as his tongue and his mouth pulled on her, the pressure building to the very tip of orgasm when Tristan pulled his mouth away.
“So close, my baby, so close,” he said.
She heard the wicked smile on his lips. The wicked smile that was charming and beautiful and most times made her want him, but now in this moment made her want to scream. He pressed both lips to her clit and gave her a warm, liquid kiss.
“Look what you’ve done.” He pulled himself up. His cock was full and hard and ready, engorged with want for her. He bent forward, and she could feel the tip of him at her entrance.
“Yes, oh God, yes,” she said. This beautiful man, this man who had fucked her silly at Mesquale, stood before her, ready to take her. This man whom she hadn’t known anything about the first time other than that he ignited a deep lust within her and now, after working with him, she still wanted him. Perhaps wanted him even more. “Please, Tristan, please.”
She opened the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a square foil. She ripped it with her teeth, and with her hands she sheathed Tristan’s hard cock. He leaned forward with one hand on the bed beside her. The tip of him filled her, and his mouth touched hers. His teeth plucked at her bottom lip. His eyes remained open and his intense gaze locked with hers.
“I want you, Prim. I wanted you then and I want you now.”
“God yes, Tristan. I want you too.”
With the words tearing over her lips, Tristan pressed his hard cock deep inside her. Her body clenched around him. A full and complete feeling raced through her body. She’d not ever felt anything like this, not even in Mesquale. Her eyes were open and their gazes locked as he pulsed in and out of her, slowly, ever so slowly, drawing out the pleasure for them both as his cock pulled in and out of her, thrusting hard and slow until she wrapped her legs around him and took him deeper. Her fingernails raked the thick muscles of his back. With her touch, Tristan’s control broke and he pushed deeper and harder into her. Faster and faster they pushed and pulled, his gaze still locked with hers, and she rode higher with him. His body tensed and he stared at her.
“Tristan, can I please, can I—”
“Come for me, my beautiful Prim, come for me now.”
Hard fractures edged through her body like a million bits of cut glass. Her muscles trembled and she fell, with Tristan falling beside her, over the edge.
Chapter Seven
Tristan lay across Prim’s body, unable to scrape together the cool exterior that he maintained even after sex, his thoughts scattered and disparate. He rolled onto his back. She lay beside him, her body still marvelous to him, her breasts full and round and her skin a lovely light brown that glistened from their exertions. He ran his fingers down the side of her cheek.
“That was better than I remember,” he said. And his memories hadn’t allowed him much sleep since Mesquale.
“Quite,” Prim said.
He caught a quick glimpse of the caring heart that beat within her; he caught it in her eyes. He caught it in the need in her touch, but he knew she protected pieces of herself. Already she was closing herself away, distancing herself emotionally from him. He could see it because he did the same.
“The tension of the last week,” Prim said. “Working together made this very intense.”
He rolled to his side. “And it seems we still have three months to get through.”
A long, deep breath caused Prim’s ever-so-perfect breasts to lift. “So we do. Three months.” She shook her head and her hair whispered across the pillowcase.
How would he manage? He’d have to. He couldn’t just leave his new purchase, and he needed Prim’s knowledge of Metro to accurately assess the value. Her knowledge would help him determine how best to sell off the company piece by piece. Prim knew where all the obvious and not-so-obvious assets of Metro Media were located.
“How are we going to do this?”
“Carefully,” Tristan said. “With thought, because I need you to stay.” He reached out and the pad of his thumb pressed against her impossibly full bottom lip. “You’re incredible.”
“I pride myself in being a hard worker.”
His laugh split through the silence. “You think you’re incredible because you’re a hard worker? Oh, Prim, you undervalue yourself.”
Her eyes cast a hard glance toward him. Had he hurt her feelings? Had she misunderstood?
“Yes, I mean of course you are a hard worker. You’re an amazing businesswoman. I doubt Metro would have survived without you the last eighteen months. But your work ethic isn’t the only thing that’s impressi
ve. Nor is this.” His fingertips trailed from her throat to between her breasts, across her belly and to the edge of her sex. Prim gasped with his touch. His heart jolted; he enjoyed that sound of pleasure from Prim.
“Then what is it?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t playful anymore. Prim leaned forward and pressed him onto his back. She lifted her leg and straddled him.
“It’s your sincerity and loyalty.”
The hard shell in her eyes slipped—it slipped like it did when he got her close to orgasm, when she gasped for him—the shell slipped now with the combination of her want and his words.
Her gaze dropped to the space between them. She gently grasped his cock in her hands.
“You think I’m sincere and loyal?” She stroked upward.
The muscle in his belly flexed and he held his breath. “I do,” he said.
Her hand pulled up and then stroked down.
“If you weren’t sincere, we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have kept you on staff for the transition.”
Her stroke paused for the briefest of moments. Prim—brilliant, high-breasted, beautiful Prim—bent forward, her wild mass of curly black hair dragging across his belly and sending tingles shooting down his spine. Her hands stroked up and down while those brilliant lips kissed around his cock and yet gave him no relief by actually inserting his once again throbbing erection into her mouth.
“And loyalty?” she asked. She fluttered her eyelashes over the sensitive skin near his cock. Her open mouth drifted up the side of his cock without touching him, but the heat of her mouth, her breath, teased up his shaft.
He gritted his teeth and forced his hips not to hitch upward. He wanted her mouth or her body on him, riding him.
“If you weren’t loyal, you’d have stolen the company from Ryan. Found an investor, ousted him, found a way to take the deals and the business somewhere else, perhaps your own company.”
Prim reached for another foil and ripped it open with her teeth.
“I hope you’ve got a number of boxes of those stashed in that drawer, because you’re going to need them.”
She responded to him with a teasing smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Damn, she was sexy as hell. She rolled the condom over his cock, and then she lifted herself upward. She was glorious above him. Her hips and belly, the way her tits jiggled and bounced. She held herself above him with his glorious cock just below her sex. Their gazes were locked on each other, both seeming to wait, the anticipation so sweet, so good, but not better than the moment when she speared herself downward onto his shaft.
Down with a swift hard motion. Her sex clenched around him and he fought the urge to press up into her with force, to control the ride. He fought the urge to dominate Prim. Instead, he reached for her breasts. He took a hard, pebbled nipple in each hand and squeezed. A firm, hard squeeze. Prim moaned. She pulled herself up off his cock. Her eyes were still on him. The loss of her, the loss of her tight pussy around him, was too much. His hands grasped her hips and again he fought the urge to press her down onto him, to let him fill that soft wet spot that he desperately wanted to fill. Instead, one hand came to the front of her and he found her engorged clit. He pressed his fingers to the delicate button, which was slick with desire.
Prim’s mouth widened. Her eyes glazed with lust, a primal want.
“Does that feel good?” His fingertips circled and pressed that slippery bit of her. The part that could make her fly apart at the seams.
“Yes.” For a moment her eyes met his, and then she pressed down onto his shaft and the air rushed from his lungs. “Does that?” A gleam entered her eyes. She rolled her hips forward into his hand as she clung to his sex. Her movements were at first a slower, gentle rhythm as she rode him, but his finger remained on her clit and with his firm touch, the pulsing of her hips grew faster and faster in a furious motion. A motion that pulled and tugged him. She leaned back and her hands grasped his thighs as she pushed forward and back.
“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” he said. He pulled his body up and clasped his arms under her and around her back, his hands now on her shoulders, pulling her down onto him over and over and over again as she worked up and then plunged down upon him. Her eyes remained locked to his and her mouth was open and she was in the throes of her lust.
“Tristan, I’m going to … I’m going to …”
“Yes, Prim, you’re going to come.”
With his words she exploded. He pushed her back onto the bed and pressed himself deep into her again and again and again. He hammered into her pussy as her legs circled his back, and she grabbed him, holding on to him, whispering deep sweet moans into his ear, tightening and tightening and tightening until the heat flashed through him hard and fast and he released it all into Prim.
Chapter Eight
When she woke, Tristan was gone. Light streamed through her windows. The space beside her was empty and the sheets cool to her touch. The pillow smelled of Tristan, warm and rich with hints of soap. The taste of him remained on her lips. She shivered. A smile drifted onto her face. That he had left, that he wasn’t here this morning, was best. Theirs was a work relationship that needed to last for three months. They’d needed to get this desire out of their systems and remove passion from the equation. The heat that circled between them was nearly unbearable. Now that they’d had each other several times, the want, the desire, the clutching need for Tristan’s flesh would end. She would once again be the cool, collected Prim.
Except she wasn’t cool and collected. To think otherwise was to lie to herself. The memory of his hands on her rocked through her. Her toes curled. She closed her eyes and her fingertips drifted down across her sex. Tristan—even thinking about him made her crave the release his body brought, aroused her want for him.
The lingering memories of last night and the heat that balled in her belly informed her that the desire she held for Tristan had not diminished. Unfortunately, being with him had only fueled it. She pressed her hand to her forehead. She would force herself to ignore this sexual chemistry. She would make another attempt. She could do this. She had to do this.
She ran her hands over her eyes—what was the saying? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result was the definition of crazy. Then she would be crazy again, for today at least. She would dress and be Professional Prim and make another attempt, hopeful that the outcome between them would be different than it had been last night.
She forced her eyes open. Work. She had work. Today was a weekday.
She reached over toward the nightstand and lifted her phone. Shit! It was nearly seven and she had a morning meeting with the head of marketing at eight a.m.
Prim rushed across her bedroom toward her en suite bathroom but stopped in the middle of her bedroom. There on her dresser was a bouquet. A brilliant bouquet of violets. Her favorite flower. How would he know? And how could he have possibly gotten them here inside her room without her waking? She lifted the card from the bouquet.
For you. See you soon. T.R.
Prim pressed her lips together. Sex. Flowers. Want.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.
What had started as an anonymous one-night stand while on vacation was turning into something very delectable and yet very complicated. She couldn’t be with Tristan. First, because she didn’t want a relationship with a man like Tristan Rhodes, a man who lived for his work and saw profit as the only definition of success. Prim walked into her bathroom and turned on the shower to Hot. If and when she decided to become a part of a couple, it would be with a man who had interests outside the business world. She would not be with a man consumed with the conquer-and-succeed mentality, a man who bought companies and then picked them apart with complete disregard for the employees who made it their life’s work to build a business.
The hot water pulsed against her skin and beat into her flesh. She soaped up and washed away the scent of Tristan, his touch, and if she could have washed
away the memory of him, she would have done that as well.
*
She didn’t see Tristan until late in the day. She’d avoided the very conversation that she knew they needed to have. This couldn’t happen again. They had to find a way to rein in their desires.
She walked into Tristan’s office. She had one minute until the four p.m. meeting started, and she wanted to minimize her time in the same room with him. If she could stay away from him as much as possible then perhaps she could ignore these feelings. She’d spent most of her day attempting to refocus her mind from replaying every delicious minute of the night before. She’d anticipated the presence of three, perhaps even four, other colleagues in Tristan’s office. Instead, Tristan stood at his office window, looking out at the Pacific. The door closed behind her with a loud click.
“Miss Baxter,” Tristan said and turned away from the window and toward Prim. “We have a problem.”
She nearly sank to her knees. Even after a full day of self-talk about ignoring the night before and pretending, yet again, that the desire between them had finally flamed out, his hard-cut jaw, his mouth—oh, the things that mouth could do—his eyes that burned and his hair that danced along the edge of his collar caused her body to boil with a molten desire.
She’d clasped her fingers through Tristan’s hair and pulled. She’d thrust her greedy hips against those gorgeous lips so that they tantalized her sex. She’d clutched the muscles of his back as he fucked her and made her call his name.
“I expected sales and publicity to be here,” Prim said.
“I rescheduled the meeting.”
The crease between her eyebrows deepened. Why had he moved the meeting? Getting the meeting on the books had taken both a transatlantic and cross-country flight.
“What’s the problem?”
His gaze locked with hers and the corner of his mouth hitched upward. Heat seared between them still.
“You are the problem.” Tristan walked toward her. He was right up next to her. His beautiful suit and his beautiful body underneath that suit, a body she’d become very well acquainted with, pressed close to her. “We are the problem,” he said, his voice softer. His eyes were filled with heat. He reached out and pressed the pad of his thumb to her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch—she couldn’t help it—her eyes closed. She was like a cat pressing into her master’s hand; if she had the ability to purr she would.
