swell of exposed flesh, and oh yes, there’s the kick. I feel it right between my legs, a hot jolt of excitement.
I want to know why he stayed on the phone when he realised what was going on. I want to know why he lingered in the hotel room, when he could have walked out. I don’t care if he likes me or not, as long as he wants to fuck me. ‘Do you like looking at me, Scott? Did you like it when you caught me shagging someone in the hotel? Did you like it this afternoon, listening to me come?’
I’m being a complete cow, I know I am. I can tell from the look on his face that he hates this. I can tell from the way his dick is pushing against the front of his shorts that he’s turned on as hell. ‘Yes,’ he says, his voice low and hoarse and rough with frustration. ‘Damn it, Amber. Why are you doing this?’
‘Pissing you off entertains me,’ I tell him. ‘Always has.’
‘You’re a bitch,’ he says.
‘Pretty much.’ I shrug. ‘But then you’re an uptight bore. At least, that’s what you want people to think.’ I lean closer. ‘But it’s not true, is it, Scott? Did listening to me come make you hard? Did you sit in your office and wank yourself off as you listened to me, or did you sneak off somewhere so you could have a quick tug?’
And it’s then, as we sit in his flash BMW in our sweaty gym clothes, that Scott Smithson makes a move on me. I don’t know why I don’t see it coming. His hand finds the strap of my top wrapped around my arm and pulls it lower. He takes the heavy weight of my breast in his hot hand and squeezes. I pull my other breast free, hook a hand round the back of his neck, and pull his mouth down to the sensitive tip.
He hesitates, but only for a moment, and then he sucks me deep. Strands of pleasure stretch from my nipples to my clit and pull tight every time his tongue works my flesh. All that time on the running machine seems to have made it more sensitive, and the lap of his tongue feels positively rough. As for the scrape of his teeth…
‘Fucking hell, Scott,’ I moan, not to annoy him, but because I can’t think of another way to express what I’m feeling. I wonder if I could come just from this. Actually, fuck wondering. I want to find out. I bury my hands in his hair, the short strands of it soft against my palms, and hold him in place.
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