his voice warned in her ear, “behave.”
The warning was obviously for show because she noted that his abdominal muscles contracted for easier access. So…she accessed.
Drew’s breath hitched when Maggie’s hot hand cupped his rampant erection. Now what? He glanced down and was somewhat relieved to see that his coat hid her activities. Her hard nipples rubbing against his skin sent him into overdrive. Just when he thought he might survive the evening and remain employed, she unzipped him and slipped her hand beneath his boxers. Concentrate. He had to concentrate on not thrusting into her soft hand. If anyone knew what they were doing out there, he would definitely lose his job.
The song ended, and the band began packing up.
In Maggie’s hand, his cock throbbed with each beat of his excited heart.
To his horror, she began to step away. He jerked her flush against his body.
“We can’t just walk away!” He nodded toward the band and cleanup crew. At her confused look he explained, “We’re exposed, Maggie. If we don’t want the whole world to know what we’ve been doing out here, we need to dance to your room.”
“Won’t that look a little weird?” To his disappointment, she tucked her delicious breasts back into her dress. “There.” She grinned up at him. “Now to get you, um, back where you belong.”
It was a stretch, but his boxers more or less covered him. They weren’t so lucky with his pants. Maggie pushed and shoved, generally making him harder with her attempts.
“Stop,” he hissed in her ear. “You’re making it worse!”
“But I—”
“Unless you want me to come in your hand, please stop rubbing me like that.”
“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows and gave a little smile. “Dance?”
“Dance.” He nodded and moved toward the nearest door.
On the deck, he twirled with her, humming as they danced down the deck toward the elevator.
As soon as they stepped into the elevator, Maggie had a brilliant idea. She hoped.
Snuggling up to Drew, preventing him from pushing the button, she said, “Let’s have sex in the elevator.”
He heaved a sigh and held her away from him, nodding toward the security camera mounted in the back corner. “I don’t want my coworkers to know me that well.”
“Can’t you turn it off?” She cupped him again and rubbed his length, his back to the spying camera.
He shook his head. “No. All I can do is lock the elevator. But with the camera running, there’s no point.”
“Lock it.” Wow, her brilliant ideas just kept coming.
“I told you—”
“Lock it.” She hiccupped. “I have an idea.”
Shrugging, he reached past her and inserted his card key into the shining brass panel, then pushed the lock button. “Now what?”
She stood, calculating distance. Yes, it would definitely work.
Directing him, she slipped beneath his arm and wedged back against the corner beneath the surveillance camera. A glance up confirmed they were well out of the camera’s range, with maybe a foot to spare. “Sound?” she asked, pointing up at the camera.
He shook his head.
“Good, then let’s take care of your zipper problem.” In one swift move, she pushed down his boxers and pants. Dropping to her knees, she took his length into her mouth and tried to remember the technique in the magazine she’d read while she’d had her hair highlighted.
Drew gripped the brass handrails on either side of Maggie and closed his eyes. Watching her hot mouth devour him would push him over the edge almost before they began.
The muscles in his legs began to quiver. He locked his knees and tried not to thrust like a wild man.
She petted his balls and ran her velvety hot tongue up and down his length before once again attempting to swallow him whole.
He clenched his jaw so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised to crack his molars.
Damn! He ached to reciprocate. But all he could reach was the top of her head. He ran his hands through and around her tousled curls. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
The thought of all the things he’d do to her once they gained her room caused his hips to pump faster.
8
Realization slammed into Drew as Maggie gagged. He took a hasty step back to rectify the situation. And, with his pants and underwear tangled at his ankles, stumbled and landed flat on his back on the plush red carpet of the elevator floor.
Maggie scrambled to her feet, intent clear in her good eye.
He had no recourse. He raised his foot to stop her from coming to him. The action, with his pants still around his ankles, caused him to roll into a curve like a sex-starved armadillo.
“Camera,” he ground out while struggling to pull his boxers up over his tent-pole erection.
“What can I do to help?” She cast a nervous glance up at the offending black box.
Was that a tear glistening?
Crying was never a good sign. He racked his brain for a way to salvage a situation that had disaster written all over it.
“Stay right there. There’s no reason for us both to be caught with our pants down.”
She frowned. “My pants aren’t down. I’m wearing a dress.”
“It was a metaphor, Maggie.” He got to his feet and glared over his shoulder at the camera while jerking up his pants.
“But I feel so awful!” Head hanging, she mumbled, “I can’t do anything right.”
Disaster was beginning to morph into capital letters.
He had to do something. Now.
“Show me your tits,” he said in a choked voice. She’d told him she liked him to talk dirty, but now that he’d gotten to know her, it was more difficult.
Color blossomed in her cheeks—well, her cheek, since the other one was pretty colorful already. Just when he decided to tell her to forget it, she slipped the bodice down, exposing her breasts.
Damn, he loved her breasts. He’d always been a leg man, but there was just something about her breasts that had him salivating and hard as a rock. Not large by any standards, they were just right. They fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. And his mouth. Bad thought, when he was trying to stuff his eager cock back into his pants.
“Okay, cover up before I say, ‘Fuck the camera,’
