“Want to watch you cum,” he says, voice gritty.
“Please.” It comes out like my life depends on it, and when he slides his fingers into my wet heat, my head falls back from the sheer ecstasy of having him inside me.
Oh my god. Linc has his fingers inside me. It’s better than I imagined. And I’ve imagined it plenty.
“Look at me,” he says. “Keep your eyes on me. I want to see your eyes when you cum.”
In what has to be the most intensely erotic moment of my life, I simply stare into his eyes while his fingers plunge into my depths over and over. I’m so close. All it takes is the flick of his thumb over my clit and I’m hurtling into an abyss of pleasure. My hips surge forward, and he drives deeper, his magic fingers never stopping as I cum hard. My walls clamp and clench, drenching his hand as I pulse around him.
The entire time he watches my face, raw hunger all over his.
When I drift down from the clouds he sent me soaring to, I slump down, my body heavy and limp, and he catches me in his arms, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, Jules.”
His words take me by surprise, but then he’s straightening my clothes, running his hand through my hair. With another quick kiss, he stands up and gives me a cocky smirk that is nothing but sexy.
“Best lunch break ever.”
I shake my head to clear it, trying to process what’s happening. I do the only thing I can think of. I sit down and have lunch with my boss, just like I do every day of the week.
Now what?
Linc
Best. Week. Ever.
It’s like every single one of my fantasies about Jules now has a chance to come true. We haven’t discussed what this is, and I don’t really want to yet. I just want to enjoy it.
Nothing has been awkward yet, which is a huge relief. I nearly regretted doing what I did. After two years of fighting it, I thought I’d wrecked the good thing I had going in a moment of weakness. But apparently, I haven’t been alone in this thing. She wants me as much as I want her. The only thing I regret now is that it took me so damn long to do something.
The entire week has been stolen kisses and naughty deeds in between clients. But tonight? Tonight she’s coming to my place. The Knicks are playing, and we’re ordering pizza and beer. Yeah, my girl is pretty perfect. Just like one of the guys. Except she is all woman and I’m hoping I get to bury myself in her before the night is over.
The doorbell rings, and I let her in. She looks so fucking sexy in her cutoff shorts and tight little Knicks t-shirt thats stretched across her tits. I only ever see her in work clothes, and seeing her like this does something to me. I want to see more of her like this. Outside of work. All the time.
Swallowing the words that are on the tip of my tongue, I just pull her to me and shut the door behind her.
“About time you got here,” I mumble, taking her mouth in a hungry kiss. She responds just like she has every single time since Monday, pliant and willing and ready. I can’t get over it. I don’t know how I lucked out.
“I brought dessert,” she says when I finally let her go, dangling a bag between us. I didn’t even notice the little bag from a bakery.
I wink. “I think I could have found something else to eat for dessert.”
She pretends to pull out an imaginary tablet and mimes scrolling through it. “Yes, Mr. Brightman, I see we do have that on the agenda for the evening.”
Laughing, I lace my fingers through hers and lead her into the kitchen.
Her eyes go wide as she focuses on my apartment. “Nice place.”
I shrug. “I like it. But what I like even more is having you here in it.” I grip her hips and lift her up onto the counter before grabbing a couple beers from the fridge and popping the caps. Handing her one, I settle between her legs, leaning against the counter, and clink my bottle to hers.
“What are we toasting?”
I arch a brow. “A landslide win?”
“I’ll drink to th
at.” And that’s one more thing I love about her. This girl is practically perfect for me.