Her eyes simmered with a wealth of feeling. ‘Why shouldn’t I do what I want to do?’ she hotly retorted.
‘You should,’ he agreed silkily. ‘You very definitely should.’
As he rounded the desk, she gripped the back of her chair as though to stop herself retreating. The tension flowing from her was electric, pumping his excitement higher. She stood her ground, tossing her head like a cornered thoroughbred, her nostrils flaring rebellion, eyes daring him to cross her space.
‘It’s not a payback,’ she proudly insisted. ‘I simply decided to please myself.’
‘Fine! You please me, too.’
She took a deep breath. Her breasts lifted, luring him on. James knew he was probably suffering a major rush of blood to the head, but the need to catch this butterfly woman in his net before she took flight was overpowering.
She wrenched her gaze off him and flicked an agitated glance at the filing cabinet. ‘Is there something urgent you need for work?’
‘You expect me to think of work with you dressed like this, Lucy?’
Her eyes flashed back to him, glittering with counter-challenge. ‘You told me yourself it was time to stop putting my life into little pockets.’
‘And I was right. It’s a major crime to fold such glorious hair into a pinned up pocket. It should flow free.’ He reached out, lifting the long fall of hair from her left shoulder and trailing it through his out-spread fingers…sensual silk.
She didn’t make the slightest move. No protest, either verbal or physical. It was as though she was holding her breath, she was so still. There was no shock/horror in her eyes, more a mesmerised wonder, and the wild urges thrumming through James received a huge kick of encouragement. She had melted in his arms. Was everything within her poised to feel the same sensations again?
He had to know.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips were slightly parted, soft and red and glossy, as though moistened with the juice of berries. His arms moved instinctively, winding around her, pulling her close, pinning her to him as he tasted what he was driven to taste, and she gave her mouth to him, willingly, passionately as he plundered the sweetness within. No holding back. Her hands were around his head, pressing him on, eager, demanding, expressing an urgency that was wild for satisfaction.
All the erotic thoughts he’d had about Lucy raged through his mind. He remembered the temptingly pert jut of her bottom and ran his hands over it, wanting to squeeze the fullness of her cheeks. But the fabric of her skirt was stiff, not soft and giving. He hauled it up. Naked flesh…naked! No panties? Yes, a G-string dipping down the cleft. Nothing to get in the way, though, and he revelled in the lovely bare curves, cupping them, lifting them to fit her more closely to the rampant hardness stirred by her readiness to come his way.
Her way, too. No doubt about that.
She wriggled against him. Seductively. And her mouth was in a stormy tangle with his, both of them simulating what they really wanted, the excitement intense. She was on heat, definitely melting for him, except for the hard nubs pressing against his chest, more intoxicating proof of her arousal.
Buttons, he thought, and the desire to undo them shot through him, moving his hands to the sexy stretchy top she wore, shoving it up, pushing it over the mounds of her breasts, sliding a palm over them, rubbing the marvellous protrusions, so tight, bigger than he’d anticipated, big aureoles, too, feeling the different skin texture of them.
He had to look, had to see.
He wrenched his mouth from the hot intimacy of hers, grabbed a great hank of her gorgeous long hair and bent her back from him. Perfect, perfect breasts, the aureoles gleaming like ripe plums, and in the centre of them, such long nipples drawing him towards them. Irresistible.
He scooped Lucy off her feet, sliding her body up his until he could take one of the provocative peaks in his mouth, tugging at it with a greed he’d never felt before. She gave a throaty animal cry and the sheer wanton need he heard in it drove him to her other breast, and the hands in his hair, kneading, clutching, pushing, were telling him yes, yes, more, more…but his body was screaming for its own satisfaction.
The desk. He’d fantasised having her there. His legs instantly chose to move to the end of it and he laid her down along the top, her hair sprawling out in a picture of glorious abandonment, her breasts thrust up to him, still irresistible. He leaned over and gave them his avid attention as he unfastened his trousers and unleashed his own needy flesh.
Already positioned between her thighs, her supple legs wound around his hips, ready to pull him into her, James paused only long enough to push the flimsy G-string aside. He could feel her urgent desire, hot, moist, quivery, and he plunged himself forward, travelling fast to the innermost depths of her, exulting in the convulsive welcome she gave him, the arch of her back as she lifted herself to take all he could give…sheer ecstacy, her coming instant, wine in his blood.
A moan of almost agonised bliss erupted from her throat as it arched, as well, making her hair ripple and swirl.
He rocketed out of control, pumping in a frenzy of exultation as she came again and again and again, crying out for more—‘Yes, yes, yes…’ her head writhing, her body writhing, the hot voluptuous flow of her making him feel like a king amongst men, riding triumphant, and she lay in front of him, his prize, surrendering all she was to his power.
His climax burst from him like a fountain of exquisite pleasure, and she arched once more, feeling it, wanting it, loving it.
She was beautiful, incredible, magnificent. While still revelling in the honeyed heat of their intimacy, he leaned over and kissed her breasts, wanting to capture the throb of her heart, the whole inner life of her beating for him, with him.
The peaks were still aroused, wonderfully sensitive to his caressing, but her legs had fallen limp, sliding down the back of his thighs. Knowing their connection couldn’t last, he gathered her up in his arms and joined his mouth to hers, savouring her response to their kissing and holding her close, soothing her tremors as separation inevitably came.
But it had been great—totally mind-blowing—and as he ended their kiss, a grin of sheer happiness spread across his face and his joy bubbled into words.
‘Now that, my dear Lucy, is the way to start a day!’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE WAY to start a day?
Lucy couldn’t believe her ears. She’d just been through the most body-shattering, mind-ravaging, heart-drumming, out of this world experience, and James marked it down as the way to start a day?