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“Tell me what you need.”

“To come.”

He begins to move inside me as fast as the angle will allow. What he lacks in speed, he makes up for in depth, in his hands loving my clit. I have the urge to spread my legs, but my underwear traps my thighs. My knees tremble, sending a quiver up my entire body. His hand on my throat should scare me; it gives him complete control. Instead, it possesses me, makes me feel owned and secure—as close to loved as I think I’m capable of feeling.

“I can’t hold back anymore.” He releases me completely and pushes me down by my upper back, mashing my breasts against the cool wood. For a few desk-rattling minutes, he holds my hips and fucks me like I’ve offended him.

“I could come already,” he grates out. “What do you need?”

“Anything,” I say, close but not quite there. “Pull my hair. Slap my ass. Anything.”

He closes his front over my back, covers my mouth again, and growls in my ear, “You want to go to the edge?”

I open my mouth to beg for it, but he shoves his finger in my mouth. “Suck.” I close my lips around him, and when he says more, harder, I comply. He removes his finger and saliva dribbles down my chin. Just as I’ve registered his hand between the crack of my ass, he’s rimming my tight bud with a slippery fingertip.

“Andrew—”

He pushes inside, and I gasp. The intrusion shocks and pinches. I break out in goose bumps, shuddering as he hammers my pussy and gently probes my asshole.

Chimes peal through the room, breaking my concentration. I do my best to block out the ring of my cell phone so I don’t lose my mounting orgasm. As soon as the ringing stops, it starts again, and this time Andrew’s cell goes off too.

“Answer it,” he says.

“I can’t,” I breathe.

He slides my purse toward us. One-handedly, he extracts my phone and holds it out, slowing his thrusts considerably without stopping. “Say hello.”

I grasp at the cell phone and clumsily answer the call from Sadie. “Hello.”

“It’s Nathan.”

“Nathan?” I can barely form a thought other than I’m full. Of Andrew. So full.

“Amelia?”

“This is Amelia.”

He pauses. “Where the hell are you guys? They’re about to do your category.”

Andrew wiggles his finger inside me, and I nearly bite off my bottom lip to keep quiet. Being on the phone while Andrew controls my orgasm has the opposite effect I thought it would. Instead of a distraction, it acts as a catalyst, and my climax throbs and pulses close to the surface.

“We’re coming,” I say quickly. “Ten minutes.”

“You don’t have ten minutes. Sadie wants to know where you are. I grabbed her phone before she could call.”

“Five minutes,” I promise and toss the phone aside.

Andrew reaches out, ends the call, and wraps my hair in a tight ponytail. He fucks me hard, pulling me onto him with each thrust until I crescendo like a song and collapse. He surrenders seconds later, digging a hand into my shoulder and cursing as he comes.

My heart beats so hard, the desk pulsates. I don’t know how I could possibly move again tonight, much less in the next five minutes, but Andrew has other ideas. He massages my shoulders for a couple seconds and starts urging me up. “Come on. We have to go.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to. You can’t miss the announcement.”

“Your finger is in my ass.”

He chuckles. “I should’ve warned you—I’m an ass man.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” I respond wryly.

“You came, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And it was good?”

I shrug. “As far as orgasms go—”

He stops me with a short slap on the ass. “Don’t start.”

I smile. “It was earth shattering. But you can remove it now.”

He slides his finger and cock out at the same time, and I can only hope the void he leaves won’t last more than a few minutes. Before I can right myself, Andrew tugs my thong to my feet. “I’m taking this.”

“I knew it—”

“No,” he says, lifting each of my legs by the ankle to strip the underwear off. “You accused me of a crime I didn’t commit, so I might as well commit the crime.” He stands, shoving a ball of nude lace in his pocket. “Now hurry up, or we’ll be late.”

I gape at him. “You’re going to make me sit in a room full of my colleagues—naked?”

He pulls off the condom and heads for the bathroom. “They won’t mind.”

Shaking my head, I grab my purse and follow him to quickly fix my makeup. I thumb away eyeliner smears, but my lipstick needs to be reapplied, and I haven’t got time. I grab a hand towel and wipe it off completely, staining the terrycloth red.

Andrew looks from it to me as he washes his hands. “Housekeeping’ll think I hurt you.” He pauses. “Did I?”

“No. It was a shock, and it felt weird, but it didn’t hurt.”

“Didn’t Reggie ever get the ass?” He quirks the corner of his mouth to reveal a dimple. I get the feeling that quirk and dimple frequently get him out of trouble.

“He tried,” I say. “Very hard. But he only got as far as you did before I got squeamish. It’s . . . unsanitary.”

“Mmm.” Andrew dries his hands, coming closer to me. He runs his hand over the curve of my ass. “It is unsanitary, isn’t it? Downright dirty.”

Maybe it’s because it’s Andrew. Maybe it’s that I’m not in my twenties anymore, and sexually speaking, I’m less uptight. This time, that small invasion turned me on more than it made me want to stop altogether. “I guess I didn’t mind it,” I say.

He squeezes one cheek. “I can get a lot dirtier.”

My throat dries. We exchange a glance in the reflection, and any teasing in his expression falls away. The heat in his eyes mirrors the warmth creeping up my chest. “How?”

“However you want. Not much bothers me. You’re on your period? Great. Let’s fuck in the shower. You want me to dress up as a sailor? Ahoy. Let’s fuck on a waterbed.”

I bite my bottom lip. “A sailor, hmm? That’s not very dirty.”

“A garbage man then.”

I laugh. My phone vibrates in my purse. Reluctantly, I get it out and read the text message from Sadie.

Reading nominations NOW.

I sigh and run my tongue over my front teeth, a habit from wearing lipstick so much. “We should go.”

Andrew looks into my open purse and picks out my business card. He flips it over, checks my information, and puts it in his pocket—with my underwear.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Me, asking for your phone number.”

I don’t know where to start with that. He didn’t ask, and if he had, I would’ve said no. “Don’t use it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He fixes a strand of my hair, smoothing it into place. “Come on.”

As we exit into the hall, he says, “We barely made it past the doorway.”

I shake my head. “Waste of money.”

“I have to vehemently disagree. Besides, we’re not nearly done with the room. We’ll come back later.”

My stomach tightens. I don’t fight the fact that I want to. I’ve already had a bite of cake—I might as well have a whole slice.

“I noticed you didn’t finish your dinner,” he says.

“Oh, God,” I moan, my euphoria dispelling. “Don’t start with this again.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying, maybe you should. You’ll need the energy tonight.”

I arch one eyebrow, reading him perfectly. If there’s any reason to eat carbs, that might be the best one. “You make a convincing argument.”


Tags: Jessica Hawkins Slip of the Tongue Erotic