I wanted to stay there, buried inside her until sunrise, but she shifted, and the pleasure that bloomed in my chest at the drag against my cock was nearly too much.
“Fuck, Hollie,” I said as I started to draw out and push back in, eeking out the pleasure, wanting to make each stroke last as long as possible. Being here was so good. So fucking perfect. Thank fuck she hadn’t left tonight. Thank fuck we had this. All night. How lucky was I to have found this woman who could make me feel so fucking right? It was as if for years I’d had a piece of my soul missing and she’d found it. I felt more alive when I was fucking Hollie than I could ever remember. I felt like I belonged. Like I could do anything as long as I could be with this woman.
Her hand coaxed mine from her breast and she interlaced my fingers with hers as I almost roared at the perfection of it. How such a nonsexual movement could make my cock ache as much as it did. But it was the intensity of the connection—the purity of it—that really got me. It represented her and us and how I felt about her.
She began to tremble beneath me. Her legs started to shake, her entire body consumed by her climax. She pushed down further on my cock and the shift in position had me driving deeper into her. Her climax pulsed around me, squeezing my cock, making me pant and grunt and fuck harder and harder until I was almost blind with effort. All I could do was feel. And all I felt was Hollie.
I exploded into her on a moan and pulled my arms tighter around her.
“You’re going to ruin me,” she whispered.
If I’d had any energy left, I’d have asked her what she meant. I’d have questioned whether she was talking about the scarf. But I’d given her every last drop of effort I had.
And I’d do it all again if she asked me.
At some point we made it to the bedroom, though it was long past dark when Hollie shifted out of my arms and crossed my room into the bathroom.
“Have I told you you’re beautiful?” I asked.
She turned and looked at me over her shoulder as if I’d just said the most ridiculous thing. She shouldn’t be shocked. If she was, that was my fault. There should be no doubt in her mind that I thought she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. Because that was the truth.
“Let me go to the loo,” she said and I grinned at her anglicization. She suited London. And she had a natural eye for what showed off stones, which was important if she was going to be in this business.
“You never told me if you actually liked the earrings,” I called out to her. She reappeared at the bathroom door, smiling as if she’d been waiting for me to bring it up. We weren’t supposed to talk about the office, but I wanted to know what she thought.
“Okay, let’s have a five minute time-out so we can talk about work.” She grabbed her mobile from beside the bed. “We have until six minutes to the hour.”
I grinned, enjoying her rules as much as her disapplication of them.
“You know what I thought?” she asked, tucking her hands under her cheek as we lay on our sides, facing each other.
“No,” I said, rolling my eyes as if I found her exasperating instead of sexy and completely fascinating.
She ignored me. “I thought they would go perfectly with your parents’ tiara.”
Her statement left me slightly winded. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected her to say. I’d thought she’d comment on the theme or technical innovation. What did my parents have to do with those earrings?
“You know,” she continued, “modern but classic. Innovative but still regal. And of course, they were beautiful,” she said. “The theme is amazing and there’s the technical thing of getting them to hang straight without it looking too obvious that you’re using the snowflakes as the counter-balance. I loved every part of them. It’s clear you’re the son of two incredibly talented people.”
I didn’t have a response to that. It wasn’t sadness I felt when Hollie mentioned my parents, as it was when most people spoke of them. I didn’t rush to quieten her or quickly change the subject. I liked that she respected my connection to them still, fifteen years later. And I wasn’t sure anyone had paid me such an incredible compliment. I reached for her and pulled her toward me, needing her heat against me. Enjoying the closeness of her.
Whatever was between us wasn’t about easy company and regular, outstanding sex—although it was those things. It was more than that. It was about hanging out with someone I found endlessly fascinating, feeling cared for and wanting to care for someone else. It was wanting her to love what Daniels & Co produced. And it was so much more than I’d ever felt in such a long time.