kissing her, he hooked his thumbs in her now-unzipped skirt, easing it down over her hips to pool around her ankles.
He broke the kiss and stepped back to look at her as she stood before him in her stilettos and black silk thong.
It made her nipples pucker even tighter, if that was possible. She resisted the urge to cover her breasts with her hands. She’d worked hard to keep her body firm and fit. If the expression on Junior’s face was any indication, she’d succeeded. Proudly, she straightened her shoulders, glorying in a sexual urge she’d thought deserted her.
Connor sank to his knees in front of her, trailing hot kisses from her breast downward.
Sun streamed in through the bay window, warming her back. He hooked his fingers under the strings on her hips and began tugging, his hot breath warming her front more than the sun streaming through to bare windows warmed her back. The sun…oh, no!
Her hands shot out to grasp his wrists.
Breathing hard, they looked at each other.
Although Connor had obeyed her nonverbal command, his fingers toyed with her damp folds while he waited, still holding the thin sides of her thong.
Andrea all but moaned at his touch, wanting nothing more than to sink to the dubious cleanliness of the carpet and let him take her away to a place she had not visited in a long time: sexual bliss.
She closed her eyes, gathering strength to stop him.
Her breath caught when he plunged his finger deep within her wetness. Goose bumps sprang up on every inch of her skin, her nipples puckering to painful points. She couldn’t help herself; she gyrated her hips, grinding against his hand, pushing his finger deeper.
More…she wanted, needed more. And, Lord help her, she wanted it with Connor.
Connor must have taken her action as the go-ahead, because he resumed tugging at her panties.
Once again, she reached out and stopped him. “Not here,” she managed to croak out of her parched throat, “someone might see us.” She jerked her head in the general direction of the bare windows.
A frantic glance at the kitchen had her cursing the trend in open-concept designs.
Connor knew he was not leaving the house without fucking her. They’d gone too far to stop now. At least he had, and, judging from the wetness dripping down his hand, she was right there with him. “Bathroom?” Even in a house like this, there had to be a way of closing off a bathroom to gain privacy.
“The master is down the hall.” Andrea pointed a shaking hand over his shoulder.
He scooped her into his arms, pleased when she wrapped her long legs around him, reveling in the feel of the stiletto heels scraping the small of his back, and almost ran down the hall.
“What?” Andrea said, turning her head when he stopped and cursed at the door of the master suite. “Damn open concept!”
Connor couldn’t believe his—their—luck. The master bedroom sprawled right into a huge master bathroom that was totally open. “There’s a door.” He headed toward a narrow opening on one end of the bathroom. The rub of wet silk against his cock was delicate torture. If he didn’t get relief soon, he’d explode.
“It’s a water closet! We’ll never fit in there,” she objected, but he tightened his grip, stepping into the miniscule area and closing the pocket door.
There was barely room to slide her down his body. Each millimeter was excruciating. Sexual torture.
“My wallet,” he finally gasped, “there’s a condom in there. Damn! I can’t believe I left it in the other room.”
Andrea paused. Was it a sign to stop what they were doing? She glanced down at the shiny purple head bobbing against the trembling flesh of her abdomen. Hell, no.
“I’ll go get it.” She reached behind her, feeling for the recessed door handle.
“Wait.” He pulled her tightly against his sweat-slicked chest. “Kiss me good-bye.” He covered her mouth in a kiss that had her all but climbing up his strong body. She whimpered when he pulled back. “Hurry,” he whispered against her kiss-swollen lips.
She surely broke the land-speed record, running to the living room and grabbing his shorts, practically tearing the pocket in her haste to get his wallet.
She paused, her natural curiosity warring with her sexual urge to finish what they’d started. Clutching the sun-warmed wallet to her breasts, she looked at their clothes, scattered in the afternoon sun on the worn carpet of the empty house. The sight elicited tingles that skittered up and down her labia, the result further drenching her thong and tightening her nipples. Tamping down all the reasons why it was a bad idea to continue, she pulled several condoms from his wallet, dropping it back to the floor.
Hell, she’d gone this far; she may as well finish what they’d started. She kicked off her shoes and ran back to the bathroom.
Connor was waiting for her, his erection bigger than when she’d left, if that was possible. He grabbed a condom, ripping the foil open with his teeth and sheathing his penis in record time.
Before she could comment on his speed, he grabbed her arm, pulling her into the little room and sliding the door shut as he lifted her.
Her knee bumped the door trim. “Ouch!”
Her head banged against the closed door when he slid her panties down and attempted to align his heat to her opening.
“Sorry. Here. Put your leg on my shoulder.”
“I can’t get my leg out far enough to put it on your shoulder!” She felt like crying. “This isn’t going to work, is it?” Damn, she wished the needy ache between her legs would subside.
“I’m an engineer. I can make it work.” He slid his warm hand down her leg, making her shiver. “Trust me.” He grasped her ankle and gently lifted until her foot touched the closed commode lid. “Relax.” He slid his finger up and down her folds, making them plump and moist again. “Look,” he whispered, “look at how pretty you are down there.”
She glanced down, intrigued at the contrast of his masculine hand against her most feminine parts. Parts that were open and fully exposed. It was wicked and decadent, thoroughly unprofessional and naughty, to say the least.
She loved it.
The heat of his fingers combined with the heat of his breath whispering over her erect nipples increased her heart rate, her breath coming in shallow pants while she watched him pleasure her.
He plucked at her engorged clitoris, causing it to swell and darken, her excitement making it glisten in the limited light from the tiny window above the toilet.
Her hips began moving involuntarily, in an age-old rhythm, seeking sexual gratification.
His finger slid into her aching folds, seeking the part of her weeping for him, and impaled her.
She found what she’d been seeking.
4
