The Stories We Whisper at Night

by Sky Corgan

  His heated kiss brings me back into the moment. His scent intoxicates me while his mouth moves sensually on top of mine. I taste his lips and his tongue, wanting to indulge in him forever. He holds my face in one hand and drives me to the height of pleasure with the other. I moan against his mouth as I feel the surge overtake me. He presses his body against mine, and all I need is the feel of his arousal for me to send me plummeting over the edge.

  “That's it,” he whispers gently against my mouth. “Come for me, Tessa.”

  I shutter as my orgasm wrecks me, my eyes closing as I allow the entire experience to make me drunk with sensation. It's the best climax a man has ever given me with his hands. I've never been touched like this before. Not like this.

  He draws me the rest of the way into the room and closes the door behind us. There's really no point in closing it. No one will come up to this floor. Still, it makes the fantasy seem more real.

  I look around while I catch my breath, unable to hide the wonder on my face. This is exactly the kind of place I'd picture a wealthy man like him living. Expansive rooms, plush furniture, perfectly and richly decorated. He doesn't seem interested in giving me the grand tour though. Instead, he takes my hand and leads me straight back to the bedroom.

  “Sit.” He gestures to the bed, and I obey, still in complete disbelief that this is actually happening. “If you thought my fingers were good, you're going to be blown away by what I can do with my mouth.” His perfect lips quirk into a smirk, and I don't doubt him for a second.

  In that moment, I'm a sponge, soaking in everything he says. Everything he does. Each second alone with him is a gift.

  He unbuttons the front of his suit jacket. After he shrugs it off and tosses it onto the floor, he goes for his silk tie. My eyes watch him move, undressing with the confidence of a God. The tie ends up on my lap once he's done pulling it off. A teasing gesture. I giggle like a schoolgirl, my cheeks heating up all over again.

  Then he starts unbuttoning his shirt, and I feel mesmerized by the very sight of his skin. He's very muscular and cut. Each open button reveals more and more delicious hard flesh. By the time he reaches the bottom button, my hormones are on overdrive. God how I want him to fuck me.

  “You should be undressing now,” he says to me with a whisper of a smile, perhaps tired of watching me drool over him.

  In all honesty, I would rather him undress me. His hands move with confidence. Mine will be moving with uncertainty; I know it.

  I stand awkwardly, practically stumbling. My eyes leave his in fear of judgment, though I doubt I'd ever be able to tell if he was judging me. He's a great actor.

  I try to muster up all of my confidence as I grab the bottom hem of my dress, moving to pull it over my head. Just as I start to lift it, his phone rings. The perfect expression he's held onto all night falters, and an annoyed look takes its place as he scrambles for his phone.

  “Sorry, I have to take this,” he tells me before answering it and taking long strides out of the room.

  My hands let go of my dress, and I sit back down on the bed. This wasn't part of the plan. Or was it? Important businessmen get phone calls. But I don't think this was supposed to happen right before we had sex. Then again, what do I really know. It could be part of the fantasy, a way to postpone the moment even longer, to push me to my limits.

  I think about undressing the rest of the way like he told me to. Is that what I'm supposed to do? I'm not sure anymore. Suddenly, I'm just confused.

  His voice becomes more distant, and then I hear a door open and shut. I wait for him. And I wait and I wait and I wait. Five minutes pass. A few more minutes later and I hear a door open again. My body instantly tenses, nervous anticipation taking over me. He's back. We're going to continue where we left off. Should I have gotten undressed while he was gone?

  There's a knock on the wall, and then an unfamiliar voice. “Miss Murphy?”

  “Yes?” I reply hesitantly.

  “Anders had to leave. He apologizes, but he won't be able to spend time with you tonight.”

  Like what you’ve read so far? You can get the rest here: The Billionaires Club Duet