“Please.” I tried not to sound desperate. “No more.”
He didn’t answer me; instead he climbed off and turned me on my side so I was facing the large window, my back against his chest.
“You feel like you go on forever.” I sighed when he slid into me. I closed my eyes, letting lose a tear of frustration.
“Are you ready? It’s going to be intense,” he whispered behind my ear. Like this hadn’t been intense already?
I wouldn’t be able to say it again, and it fell from my mouth broken and shaky. “Green.”
His thrusts were slow and deep until I got to yellow, and then he put a hand on my hip and drove into me.
“Not yet,” he said, slowing.
“No,” I cried.
The hand left my hip, yanked my knee up, and pulled the leg back over him. So he could set his fingers on my clit. The moment he thrust into me, his fingers moved, touching me right on my core.
“Give me what’s mine,” he ordered.
Intense wasn’t a strong enough word when it began. The pleasure was too much and it was painful, stealing my breath away when the sharp edge of the orgasm overtook me. And as the edge faded, the orgasm kept coming, wave after wave of it. He’d stopped moving, maybe to let me ride it out, but when all of my muscles clamped down on him, it pulled him along with me. His hoarse voice rang out in a long groan of my name as he thrust hard and deep.
That only made it better and so much worse. I think I blacked out for a second when he pulsed inside of me. The hand on my clit had slowed but not stopped, and I was so overly sensitive down there that my brain could no longer interpret the pleasure. It felt like pain.
“Stop,” I moaned, still coming. Even the slightest touch from him made my whole body flinch and contract. “Oh god, please.”
“Are you . . . begging me to . . . stop letting you come?” He couldn’t catch his breath, even though his climax was ending. The hand was gone, and finally, the grip of the orgasm released its hold. My hand had a fistful of his comforter, and when I let my hand relax, he pulled out.
I half-laughed, half-sobbed into the pillow beneath my head. The bed shifted as he rolled, or collapsed onto his back. After a moment of rest, I heard him pull a Kleenex out of the box on the nightstand. He must have gotten rid of the condom.
“Are you okay?” He slipped an arm around me, turning my chin toward him. “You’re shaking.” His eyes were full of concern.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said. “Don’t expect me to walk anytime soon, though. I need to lie here and die for a little while.”
“Do I need to tell you how fucking amazing that was? Because it was.”
“It was just okay for me.”
He gave me a knowing look, his eyes gleaming. “I’ll have to try harder next time.”
Next time? I wanted to ask him what exactly he had in mind. But I couldn’t. My body was too spent to risk anything and it would be morning in a few hours. I could ask him anything then. That is, if I was spending the night. Which I was going to need to do;
I wasn’t going to be able to stand for a while.
He curled me into his arms without saying a word. A strong hand brushed the hair on my neck out of his way. Logan kissed me there, and I passed out.
chapter
EIGHT
I was in my boss’s bed. Naked. The curtains on his picture window were open, and it was bright as day in the room. Day, not morning. Oh my god, what time was it? I rolled over and looked at his alarm clock. It was nine something. That wasn’t so bad, but there was a very naked Logan Stone beside me, snoring softly. The one who’d mentioned he wanted to promote me. He looked good in a suit, but better like this. Peaceful, sexy . . . wait, no. Terrifying.
I forced myself to roll over and admire the other view in the room. Like the living room, it was floor-to-ceiling glass, and there were no buildings in between his and the beach. No one could see in here; no wonder he didn’t shut the curtains.
I was sore from the blissful beating he’d put on my body last night. My arms ached from the straps, my abs hurt from holding my legs around him on the table. And the downstairs situation . . . painful, but totally worth it.
But there was no way we were going to be able to have any of those shenanigans this morning, and I suspected when he woke, that was going to be on his agenda. He’d kiss me and that would convince my body to want to endure it. I think his kiss could get me to do anything.
I sat up gingerly and rose to my bare feet, padding across the carpet to his side of the bed where my panties and dress were in a heap on the floor. I had no intention of leaving. I just needed a layer of clothes on for protection. To slow me down in case he woke and set his lips on mine.