I watched Ethan's appraisal of me with a rapidly beating heart, feeling like I was under a microscope, wanting desperately to meet his exacting standards; I didn't want to contemplate what might happen if I didn't.
A month ago I was my own woman: young, independent, strong-willed, ambitious; but that was before Ethan came crashing into my life and made me question everything I thought about myself, everything I felt and thought. Again I was shocked to realize that Ethan's approval of me mattered a lot; I fiercely wanted him to like my work, my body; hell, I just wanted him to like me. And it frightened me a little, because I didn't know what that meant.
Ethan grabbed my hand, moving it down between my legs and holding it there. "Touch yourself," he instructed.
I froze. "Uh, Ethan?"
"I want to see you touch yourself," Ethan growled, removing his own hand, leaving mine behind. "Don't you ever do that?"
I blushed furiously.
"Tell me."
"N-no. I can't," I stammered.
"Emma," Ethan rumbled warningly. "When was the last time?"
I turned my head and buried it into a couch cushion. I could feel my blush burning my cheeks and spreading tellingly downwards. My hand remained motionless above my auburn curls.
"Tell me, Emma. I need to know. When?"
"Last night," I whispered, unable to look at him, embarrassed that Ethan had the power to make me confess to something that even the Pope wouldn't be able to pull from me. It's not that I thought myself a prude; I'd had my fair share of sexual encounters, but something about Ethan made me feel young and inexperienced. I hadn't felt so shy since I was an awkward teenager getting my first kiss.
"Did you come?" Ethan's voice wobbled slightly.
I nodded.
"What were you thinking about?" Ethan asked gruffly. I wondered if I imagined the hesitation in his voice.
"You," I whispered raggedly.
There was silence. I turned my face from its hiding place to eye Ethan warily. He had laid his head back against the couch; his eyes were closed and his throat was working furiously.
"Good God, Emma," he croaked. "I could come right now, without touching it."
"I know," I moaned. "Me too."
"This is crazy. You're crazy; no woman has ever affected me the way you do." Ethan opened one blue-grey eye to watch me warily.
I had to smile; Ethan's admission was as close to a declaration of approval than I ever thought I'd hear from him. I laughed. "I haven't done anything yet."
Ethan arched a familiar eyebrow. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."
"Do you still want me to touch myself?" I asked teasingly, relishing the shift in power which had just taken place between us; I was sure it wouldn't last long.
Ethan chuckled. "Normally I wouldn't say no, but I don't think I'm capable of waiting much longer." He turned to face me more fully and his remarkable silver eyes blazed with heat. "I want to fuck you Emma, now."
We both moved at once, meeting halfway across the couch, tongues connecting instantly. I fought with Ethan's shirt buttons as his large, capable hands found their way beneath my panties to clutch frantically at my ass.
Button after button slipped away to reveal a broad, pleasantly toned chest underneath. I ran my hands over it in wonder, loving the way his crisp, dark hair felt to touch. Ethan might be fifteen years my senior, but he was obviously working at keeping in shape. I positively purred; broad shoulders and muscular arms are an absolute weakness of mine.
Ethan broke our kiss to trail his mouth hotly down to my neck, finding almost instantly the spot which makes me positively melt and giving it his full attention. I panted frantically, pushing his shirt from his shoulders before turning my efforts to his belt buckle. Beneath Ethan's perfectly tailored trousers his erection was a formidable presence; I could hardly wait to see it.
"Emma," Ethan gasped as I fumbled with his fly. "Emma."
I raised my head and our eyes met. There was a blatant doubt painted across Ethan's handsome face which almost broke my heart; he was so amazingly gorgeous. I ran my hands up to brush a wayward lock of dark hair from his forehead.
"Yes?" I whispered huskily.
"If you want me to stop, you have to tell me now," Ethan said uncertainly. It was the first time I had ever seen him hesitate. "I don't want you to hate me in the morning."
I laughed lowly, tracing the outline of his rugged features, running one shaking finger over the swell of his lips. "I already hate you Ethan," I teased, pleased to see his smile bloom under my fingertips. "And I don't want to stop."
"Thank God," Ethan growled, pulling my panties to my knees with a swift jerk. "And I promise I'll make the second time better."
I watched Ethan remove his pants and boxers shorts with no breath in my body and heard his promise through a fog of frantic passion. Vaguely I wondered how it was possible for the second time to be better than the first, but knew that if anyone was capable of topping that moment, it would be Ethan.
His erection emerged in all its generous glory and I couldn't resist the urge to touch it. I wrapped my hand around Ethan's hot girth and almost laughed; Ethan Anderson had always, at every moment, both surprised me and exceeded my expectations; it just seemed to be a skill he had.
"Sweet Jesus, Emma," Ethan hissed as I became better acquainted with his erection. I giggled at the catch in his voice, I couldn't help it; I wanted to glory in the undeniable fact that he wanted me, it made me feel like I had the upper hand, if only for a moment.
Ethan pushed me back onto the couch, drawing off my panties the rest of the way; he stood to remove the rest of his clothing too, tossing each article heedlessly over his shoulder. His handsome face was painted with deliberate intensity as he watched me recline under him; I knew every freckle, every curve, every flaw was being noted and catalogued in his clever mind, and I prayed silently that I wouldn't live to regret that moment.
Ethan Anderson towering over me, completely and gloriously naked, is an image I'm not likely to ever forget. I'd never wanted any man the way I wanted Ethan at that moment: recklessly and frantically and without question. All I could think about was how badly I wanted him inside me, and one look at his face revealed that Ethan wanted the same.
He lowered himself down on top of me, the contact of my skin against his sent shivers from the bottom of my toes to the top of my head. Ethan's own breathing was harsh and quick as he kissed me, sweeping me up in the frenzied wave of passion so strong it drove all thought and hesitation from my mind. I could feel the scalding heat of his cock pressing against my inner thigh and I shifted, trying to move myself into a better position.
"I can't wait," Ethan growled impatiently into my mouth, moving himself closer as I spread myself open; he braced himself above me with his strong arms and I grabbed frantically onto their solid strength, desperate for something to hold on to.
"Then don't," I gasped, feeling the unyielding length of him make contact with the hot pool between my legs.
"Oh my God," we both moaned at the same time; I laughed but Ethan remained stoic. His silver eyes stayed focussed on mine as I felt the head of his cock make its way inside me. My wail was loud and long as Ethan slowly drove himself home.
Fully sheathed, Ethan rested his forehead against mine, taking several deep breaths while I clutched madly at his arms, feeling incredibly full but needing something more.
"Don't move," Ethan whispered roughly as I wiggled impatiently beneath him. He closed his eyes and I fought the urge to crow loudly; Ethan 'the Dragon' Anderson was on the edge of losing control and I was the one who had brought him there. I felt like shouting from the rooftops until Ethan flexed his hips and distracted me utterly.
Sensation and heat; those were the only things I could think of, could feel. Ethan's generous length deep inside me, the solid wall of his body above me, the building pressure within me; all of these combined to make me feel inexorably like I was losing my mind with pl
easure.
Ethan thrust again, withdrawing slowly before plunging back; each repeated drive made me cry out. Still braced on one arm, Ethan's other hand made contact with my breast, finding the nipple and pinching it forcefully, drawing from me an inhuman wail of bliss Instantly I flew over the edge, peaking in an orgasm the likes of which I'd never before experienced; I could feel every inch of Ethan as my muscles contracted strongly around him.
My orgasm bridged from one to the next as Ethan kept up his rhythm, muttering incoherently and grasping my breast with an iron grip. I wrapped my legs around his hips and kissed him hard, desperate for him to finish, all the while hoping it would never end.
"You are so amazingly tight," Ethan groaned as our kiss ended. "So fucking perfect."
The compliment registered faintly in my lust-addled brain. I smiled and tightened my grip on Ethan's upper arms before angling my hips to better meet his enthusiastic thrusts.
"I want you to come, Ethan," I gasped as I was hit by another wave of sheer ecstasy. "Please."
"Always so polite," Ethan said, chuckling deeply; his voice dropped another octave. "Where?"
I dug my fingernails into Ethan's arms. "In me," I whispered breathlessly, feeling myself blush and not caring; I'd never spoken like that to another person before in my life. "Come inside of me Ethan, please."
His completion was accompanied by a fierce roar of satisfaction and I could feel each spasm of his cock as he emptied himself inside of me, the knowledge and sensation pushing me once more over the edge of my own fulfillment. Ethan's weight was considerable as he collapsed on top of me; he pressed me heavily into the couch, and I didn't care.
I ran my hands up over the smooth, rock-hard breadth of his shoulders, stroking his back, struggling to regain my breath. Ethan buried his head in the tangle of auburn curls at my neck and sighed gustily. We remained silent for a long time, waiting for the frantic pace of our heartbeats and breathing to subside.
"Come to bed," Ethan finally muttered into the expectant silence. "I'm getting too old for this."
I couldn't help but laugh as Ethan untangled his sweaty limbs from my own and stood uncertainly to his feet; he offered me a hand up as I peeled myself from the couch. I watched greedily as he wandered towards what I assumed was the bedroom. It was strange that I'd just had amazing sex with the Dragon and the only thought running through my head as he walked away was that he had a great ass.
Ethan paused in the dark doorway, looking over his shoulder, and arching an impossibly cocky eyebrow. "You coming or what?" He held out his hand and smiling, I rushed to take it.
Chapter Four
When I awoke the next morning I was alone. The dull, pinkish-grey light spilling in the un-curtained windows hinted that it was hardly dawn; from my position in Ethan's bed I could only see the very tops of the city skyscrapers beyond.
Sighing, I rolled over and contemplated the empty pillow beside me. Ethan had woken me once in the night to make love again, proving once more that he was very, very good at it. It had been a slower coupling, tender and intimate, made more so by the inky dark of three a.m. He'd been right when he said he'd make the second time better; it had been, and the lingering ache between my thighs proved it.
And now he was gone and I wondered where and why. To spare us that awkward waking-up-together moment? To avoid all those cliché things virtual strangers say after a night together? I realized with a jolt that I was angry that Ethan had disconnected himself first; it meant he had the upper hand again.
I slid from Ethan's bed, and finding his robe slung over a nearby chair, pulled it on over my naked body; the room was chilly and I couldn't stop the shiver that ran through me as the soft terrycloth enveloped me; it smelled wonderfully like Ethan.
I slipped my feet into an overly large pair of slippers and hesitantly I emerged from the bedroom back into the main living area of Ethan's apartment; he wasn't there, nor was he in the kitchen, but I could hear a strange, drawn-out thumping from further down the hall. Curious, I tiptoed in the direction of the noise.
I paused in the dining room where another short hallway branched off; in the large mirror hung on one wall I could see the reflection of the room beyond and Ethan. He was clad in shorts and t-shirt, his skin shimmered with perspiration and his dark hair was slick against his forehead. He was running on a treadmill and the look on his face was darkly aggressive. I watched his reflection for a time, marveling at the intensity with which he tackled his workout, half-scared of the forbidding scowl on his handsome face. Silently, I slipped back to the kitchen, not at all happy to have intruded, however inadvertently, on Ethan's private time.
I made myself at home in the kitchen, acquainting myself with the coffeemaker, and trying to make as little noise as possible. There was a large bowl of fruit on the counter and I helped myself to a peach as the coffee brewed. Our dirty dishes from the night before had disappeared, and I couldn't help but wonder if Ethan had slept at all, or if he always got up at the crack of dawn; Saturdays could usually find me sleeping until noon.
I managed to find a mug and cream and sugar, and taking my coffee I stole out to the balcony to welcome the morning. It was chilly as I curled up on a reclining lounger and tucked my feet up under Ethan's generous robe to keep them warm. With the mug of coffee clutched in my hands and the rest of me wrapped in Ethan's bathrobe, I was pretty snug as I watched the sun come sparkling up the glass exteriors of the skyscrapers.
Contentment settled over me and I couldn't help but wonder how much of that was from the amazing vista spread out before me and the good coffee I was drinking, or the night of amazing sex I'd just had. Sex with Ethan freakin' Anderson. In the light of day, it hardly seemed possible. My glimpse of him that morning had revealed the Ethan I thought I knew; the one surrounded by barriers, untouchable and unflappable, tackling everything with the same headstrong determination. Last night he had been a different person: kind, funny, tender; a lover in every sense of the word. And now?
I shook my head, my mess of red curls bouncing about me. I wasn't going to overthink this, to worry about what would happen Monday morning at the office. Ethan was a professional, as was I. Nothing had changed.
I heard the slide of the glass patio door opening but didn't look up. I didn't need to see him to know that Ethan was standing right behind me; I could sense him. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
"Good morning." His voice was gruff and sounded like it hadn't been used in a while.
"Good morning," I replied automatically. I was blushing already.
"Glad to see you made yourself at home," Ethan said.
"Hope you don't mind." I chanced a glance over my shoulder; Ethan stood against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, a cocky grin on his face. I'd seen the look before, and it was no less effective for him being in shorts and a t-shirt this time instead of an expensive suit. He looked so good I smiled; I had to.
"I like you wearing that," Ethan confessed, letting his eyes roam hungrily over my robe-covered body. "Looks better on you."
I laughed; somehow I doubted that. The mental image of Ethan's dark skin against soft, white terrycloth was pretty sexy and my stomach quivered in response. "Do you always get up this early in the morning?" I asked, feeling it might be safer to change the subject.
Ethan shrugged. "I like to get my workout in early; plus I can get a lot of work done in the morning. I do my best work before noon."
"You're a morning person?" I asked incredulously, coming to my feet. My coffee was empty; it was definitely time for another one.
"I guess so," Ethan drawled. "Hadn't thought of it like that before. So, what do you want for breakfast?"
I waved my hand dismissively. "I had a piece of fruit and some coffee, I'm good."
"That's not breakfast," Ethan growled, frowning down at me. "Waffles? Crepes? Bacon and eggs?"
I shook my head. "No really, I'm fine. Thanks though."
The scow
l was back, coupled with a grumpy glare. "You're eating breakfast, Emma. What do you want?"
"Nothing," I sighed in exasperation. "I never eat much in the mornings."
"Speak now," Ethan snapped. "Or you'll be stuck with what I make, whether you like it or not."
"You sound like my mother," I said accusingly. "I'm not hungry, Ethan. I don't need anything."
"You cannot get through the day on a piece of fruit and a cup of coffee," he grumbled. "It's not physically possible."
"It is so." I countered childishly. "I do it every day."
I tried to sneak past Ethan back into the apartment, but he stood blocking the doorway, arms still crossed stubbornly across his chest.
"What are you going to do? Force feed me porridge? That trick never worked for my parents, it's not going to work for you, Ethan."
In My Office, Now. Page 6
