Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 32

32

HANNAH

Jack parked in his building’s underground garage. He came around and helped me out of the very fancy SUV and, after retrieving my overnight bag from my own car, led me to the elevator.

Beneath the hem of my dress, I was bare. Going commando made it… airy. I only hoped I didn’t have a wet spot on the back of my dress.

This was all blatant foreplay. Going bare for him. Him knowing I was bare. That my panties were in his pocket. It was an intimacy I never had with anyone before. And it was hot. Sexy, even. I felt sexy.

The elevator doors opened, and he led me in with a hand on the small of my back. As the car rose, he set the to-go bag of food and my overnight bag on the floor and pressed the stop button on the control panel.

Then he turned to me .

“Um, Jack–”

“I’ve got to taste you.”

Taste me? Like the book. Oh my God. I was bare because he wanted to taste me in a stopped elevator car.

I looked around. Obviously, we were alone. The walls had wood paneling and there was a hip-height brass railing. Fancy, like his car. But I’d seen enough TV shows to know that the more posh the place, the more cameras. Everywhere. The thrill of possibly being caught wasn’t the same as being recorded.

He dropped to his knees before me. I was now taller, and I set my hands on his shoulders. His gaze was heated, almost burning. His cheeks were ruddy and there was a wildness about him. His hands slid slowly up my calves, then higher. As they raised my dress, he told me, “This is my private elevator. No cameras.”

And then he had his hands on my waist, my dress bunched and caught on his wrists.

I was bare down there and he was staring. I wasn’t skinny. I had dimpled thighs and a slight pooch to my stomach. Lots of curves. All of that was enough to give me a complex, but he was looking at me there. I groomed, shaved and trimmed so I was neat and tidy, but lady parts were weird. What if he thought–

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growled, then, as if he couldn’t resist a second longer, lifted one of my legs and threw it over his shoulder, then put his mouth on me.

He gave me one long lick, then found my clit and flicked it. Then again.

“Oh fuck,” I called, my head tilting back as I stared at the ceiling. It felt so good. His hot breath, the talented swirl of his tongue and… oh! He slid a thick finger into me and did some magical curl. “There!”

My hands tried to find purchase in his shoulders, but he was too muscled. My hands slid up to tangle in his short hair and hold him to me. I was so close to coming. Ridiculously close. If I had any brain cells functioning, I would recognize he was able to get me there even faster than the day before in the library. Tongue and fingers were better than fingers alone.

I went up on my tiptoes and rolled my hips into him. His grip tightened, holding me right where he wanted me.

Because he was eating me out like a starving man.

He had missed his dinner.