Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
His mouth is on mine, hungry and urgent, and we stumble backward until my shoulder blades press up against the wall. It’s like it’s been the other times we’ve kissed, but better: this time, we don’t have to stop.
My hands tangle in his hair as his palms settle against my chest, an action that has me moaning my approval.
His hands move against me heavily, breaking off only for a second so he can tug at my bra.
As an idea, it’s inspired. I reach behind me to unclasp it and then toss it away.
His shirt joins my bra in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Connor feels like an electric blanket just switched on; every inch of his skin is warm.
I run my hands over the lean, hard lines of his arms and stomach, raking my nails down his back, goose bumps following in my wake.
His hands smooth up and down my sides, then slide around my rib cage.
Until finally they’re right where I want them—he cups me fully, his thumbs gliding back and forth across my nipples.
I arch off the wall and lean into his touch, and he hums in approval, repeating the motion again and again while my lips try and find purchase on his neck.
He presses a gentle kiss just beneath my earlobe, then traces a path lower, across my collarbone and then down, until his mouth drops to my chest. I gasp when I feel his lips close around me, my fingers knotting into his hair and holding him in place, every move of his mouth eliciting a whimper.
I stare at the ceiling, unfocused, and when his thigh slides between mine and his hips hitch forward I think my eyes might actually roll back so far they do a complete revolution.
My dress is still pooled around my waist. Connor didn’t finish unzipping it—must speak to him about this—so I have to tug at it, then shimmy it over my hips. The dress slips down my legs and then I step out of it, kicking it away.
I watch him take in the sight of me, his eyes roaming over my nearly naked body, snagging on the only stitch of clothing left on me.
“Are you trying to kill me,” he breathes.
“Yes,” I say, fighting back a smile. “I really want that dinosaur toy.”
“No jokes, remember,” he orders, hauling me against him and kissing me fiercely.
It has never been like this before, for me.
I feel as giddy as I do horny. I could laugh out loud at how surprised I am to be here, doing this, with Connor.
I can’t believe it, it’s you, I want to tell him.
I want to ask him if he can’t believe it either, that we were once just two people working in the same building, who didn’t even know each other, and now we’re this.
I can’t believe we’re this. I can’t believe we weren’t this all along.
We’re pressed together completely now, and I slip my hand inside his waistband. His breath judders when my hand closes around his cock, and I can feel Connor, hard and urgent against me, desperate for what I’m offering. My grip tightens, and he rocks into me, shifting so I can feel more of him.
“I think we need to lie down on something,” he says, panting into the crook of my neck.
“You mean you don’t usually have sex in your office?” I ask, my mouth closing around his earlobe.
“Annie,” he pleads, dragging his mouth back to mine. He pulls me away from the wall, his hands sliding over my ass. I twist my arms around his neck. Our kisses grow more frantic.
“Sofa,” I breathe into his mouth. He lifts me. My thighs lock around his waist. When I feel his erection press against me, I keen toward him in a very unladylike way.
I’m vaguely aware of us moving, but I’m too busy planting kisses over every available square inch of his face to give it my further attention.
Seconds later the room tilts, and my back hits the cool, soft fabric of his sofa. He lowers me onto the couch, then climbs over me, his body covering mine.
Connor feels so weighty like this, so solid. Our lips catch lightly, slide together and then apart, neither of us rushing. We’re having a moment here. I feel like he’s reading my mind and I’m reading his, somehow, communicating everything without needing a single word.
He kisses me again, deeper now, and when his tongue slides against mine, a switch flips, and then I need him. Now. Urgently. My hands go straight to his ass, pulling him into me even more firmly, and we rock against each other, both too horny to stop.
I fumble at his jeans, making it as far as the top button before he breaks the kiss and eases up onto his knees. Instead of removing them, though, he hooks a finger under the edge of my panties and drags them slowly down my legs. All I can do is watch him.
I raise up on my elbows as he slides his palm up the inside of my leg, parting me gently as he charts a course toward the top of my thighs.
He stares at me heavily; I am practically panting in anticipation.
I don’t need to ask him if he likes the view—I can see that he does. I feel powerful. Wanton.
His eyes drop, and then he’s leaning down, his mouth sinking between my thighs.
I nearly buck off the sofa when I feel his tongue slide against me.
My breathing is shallow. I hear myself plead his name, no idea whether I’m begging him to stop or to keep going.
He looks up at me, his arm sliding up my torso and gently guiding me back.
After that, I am no longer in control of my body. My hips rise to meet his mouth with each stroke he makes, and everything is decadent, the pressure building, and building, until my body goes taut, and then snaps.
Awareness returns when I feel him press a gentle kiss on the inside of my thigh.
In that moment I’m almost desperate to feel his weight on top of me, and I reach for him, pulling at his forearms. He drops down instantly, willingly, his hands framing either side of my head.
He kisses across my collarbone and neck.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs into my ear, and then I turn my face toward him and our mouths collide again.
If Connor makes me wait any longer I think I might physically die. My hands roam across his body and start moving downward. He’s warm and hard and moving against me the second I wrap my hand around his cock, a hum deep in his throat.
“I need you,” I tell him, and judging by the heated look on Connor’s face, he needs me just as badly. I drag his boxers down, and this time he helps me, sliding his pants off and dropping them onto the floor.
I lie back down, both of us completely naked now, and for a moment we both just take in the sight of the other, before he reaches back toward his jeans. He shows the condom to me wordlessly, and I nod, both of us quiet while he rolls it on.
Then his whole body is pressed on top of mine, packed together on his sofa like two sardines. The second we make contact it’s bliss, my arms and legs wrapped around him, my chest pressed up against his. He slides against me and we both groan, desperate for what’s to come.
But still, he’s not rushing. He nudges his nose against mine; I’m almost cross-eyed from trying to watch him this close. I can see all the flecks of green in his eyes, every individual eyelash.
“You are so special,” he breathes, and then he’s pushing into me, and I’m no longer a person, just a loose assortment of noise and feeling.
He’s slow at first, then firmer, then harder.
The feeling of Connor in me, and on me, and around me is like nothing else, and before I know it another orgasm is dancing there just beyond my reach.
As soon as I’ve had the thought he’s moving, pulling me up onto his lap.
His eyes flash, one hand on my waist while the other finds my core.
I tilt my hips forward to get the angle I’m looking for, then bury my head into his shoulder to fall apart again, him rocking steadily beneath me all the while.
He flips us over one last time and I dig my hands into his ass as his movements become clipped, frantic, until finally, I feel him tense, then still.
For a long time afterward neither of us move, simply breathe hard against each other. When he shifts his weight and pulls away, I feel bereft. Emotion is crawling up inside of me. I feel like I urgently need to tell him something that I have no idea how to put into words.
I expected him to get up, to start gathering the clothes thrown on the floor around us, but he doesn’t.
He rolls onto his side, then pulls me in and wraps his arms around me and holds me there without saying a word.
I burrow into his neck and give over to the feeling of his chest rising and falling, the gentle glide of his fingertips stroking up and down my back, the press of his lips against my forehead.
We lie there in the quiet, and float.