9. Ana
CHAPTER 9
ANA
I should get out of his car. I should at least protest, and say that dinner in a public place is all that can happen between us. But my needy body keeps its mouth shut, and the next thing I know, he’s speeding toward the coast, then north to a town that’s not nearly as quaint and sleepy as the one I live in.
His home is a luxury condo in a prime area with sweeping ocean views. Inside, it’s filled with appealing textures that seem like an extension of him, all masculine with dark wood and stone surfaces. It’s sleek and expensive, but also very cold.
“Did you just move in recently?” There are no pictures on the wall, and no real decor beyond the furniture itself, which is also dark and looks like it cost a lot of money. The lighting is dim.
Derek frowns at my question. “No, I’ve been here two years. Want something to drink?” He heads to a tall dark wood cabinet and opens the doors to reveal shelves filled with bottles and glasses.
“Do you have ginger ale?” When he checks a small refrigerator that’s built into the bottom shelf and says he does, I ask for whiskey and ginger ale. As he makes our drinks, I wander to the windows, which are basically one entire wall of the room.
The view is stunning, one that I’d feel grateful for on a daily basis, and I can’t help but wonder how someone who lives in a privileged place like this always seems so unhappy.
“Here you are.” Derek hands me my drink, his fingers brushing mine, and then he stands so close behind me that his body warms me. I couldn’t talk about business now if I tried.
“Your home is lovely, and this view is gorgeous.”
“Thanks. I like it. Jansen has a unit in this building, too.”
“You work together and live in the same building? Don’t you get tired of each other?”
He shrugs. “We give each other space when we need it. He’d have been here tonight, but he’s traveling.”
Oh. Interesting. So they’re somewhat of a package deal? That’s good to know, but it doesn’t matter, since this can’t happen again after tonight .
Despite his nearness making my brain fuzzy, I try to continue the small talk as I sip my drink. “How did the two of you get into business together?”
Instead of answering, he takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the nearest table. “We can talk about that later.”
Apparently, the time for talking is done.
My skin tingles with excitement as he steps me closer to the glass, his body pressing into the back of mine. His breath heats the skin on my neck just before his mouth descends.
One of his hands glides up the front of my neck to cup my jaw. He tips my head back toward him, the hair on his face brushing against my cheek.
His other hand slides down the side of my body to my hip, where he tugs me closer, letting me feel him hardening against my backside.
He grows harder still as his mouth nips a path down the side of my neck to my shoulder, where he nudges the collar of my shirt aside to reveal my bra strap.
“Black today. How wicked.”
The comment makes me smile, because I thought of him and Jansen while I was putting on my bra this morning, even though I never expected to see either of them today.
He lifts my shirt over my head, then unzips my skirt and pushes it from my hips so it falls to the floor. His mouth marks different points on my back, slowly descending to my bottom half, where his hands caress circles on my bottom, his fingers occasionally slipping under the edge of the lace.
Then his mouth is there, biting the cheek of my ass like it’s his dinner. Heat and wet surge between my legs and I automatically step my feet farther apart, wanting to give him full access.
His fingers go immediately to my center, first over the fabric, then pulling it aside to dip into my juices.
“Have you been with anyone since I last saw you?” When I shake my head, he says, “Good. This pussy is mine.”
He presses two long fingers in deep, spreading them apart inside me, making me gasp. He fucks me with those long, thick fingers, his hand pressing against my mound, lighting up my clit with each movement of his palm.
It only takes a few strokes before I’m panting for him.
“Gonna fuck that pussy of mine now.” The sound of his zipper is quiet, but still unmistakable.
I twist so I can see his face. “No.”
“No?”
“Not yet. Not until I taste you.”
He arches a brow and I prepare myself for a challenge, but instead he withdraws his fingers so I can turn toward him fully.
I sink to my knees and push his trousers open and down his hips to reveal snug, dark gray boxer briefs underneath, bulging thickly, his cock looking like it’s trying to escape its confines.
More wetness seeps out of me at the sight of him, because fuck, he looks good!
I somehow manage to take the time to fully remove his pants, and while I’m doing that, he unbuttons his shirt, first the cuffs, then the front column. I drag my eyes away from his cock to his firm, broad chest, then down to his sculpted abs.
Is this the body you get from drinking a lot of coffee?
I want to run my hands over every inch of him—all the inches, not just the seven or eight tucked in his briefs—but I need to pick my priorities. Still kneeling before him, I stretch one hand up to his stomach, gliding over the warm skin there, then along the oh-so-happy trail that leads back down.
My fingers slip under the waistband of his underwear and tug them down, stretching the elastic to clear his sizable erection. The thick head of his cock appears, then the full length of him springs out and bobs against his belly.
He wraps his palm around it and gives it a couple of tugs, lengthening it from incredibly impressive to downright intimidating, even though I already know it fits inside me. It’s just that I’ve never seen a cock this big in person, and I’ve definitely never had one like this in my mouth!
Swallowing a gulp of air, I glance up at him. His mouth is a flat line, but his eyes are grinning.
He cups my jaw again, squeezing gently to open my mouth. He rubs the head of his cock on my lips, and I lean in to take it.
“Eager for it, aren’t you?”
I have the stray thought of asking him if he’s been with anyone since he was with me, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer. Men who look like him aren’t sitting home alone at night.
I answer his question by taking him in deeper, and I’m gratified when he moans. Since there’s no way my mouth is going to cover all of him, I wrap my hand around his base and stroke him there as I lick and suck as much of his veiny, velvety rod as I can.
He runs his fingers through my hair, eventually tangling his fist in a handful and using it to bring my head forward and back, though he lets me lead the pace.
Gradually, I work more of him into my mouth, and when the head of his cock taps the back of my throat, he pulls back, saying, “That’s enough.”
I’m disappointed that I wasn’t able to get him off this way, but I’m also excited for what’s coming next. Derek quickly produces a condom from his discarded pants, rolls it on, then lifts me up in one swift motion, his hands under my bottom sliding out to support my legs as he presses my back against the window. I wish I could see this scene of the two of us from a different vantage point, because it would surely be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.