Chapter 21
Robyn
Holy shit! Holy shit!
This isn’t happening.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he whispers.
Then his mouth is on mine again, and I cannot get enough air.
A soft, surprised sound punches out of me when he rubs on my clit. He swallows it with another kiss.
His masculine scent is everywhere, driving me insane.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my mouth. “You are so damned wet for me.”
I am. He’s right, and I have a feeling it’s about to get so much worse. The brush of his fingertips against my clit makes my hips buck forward, chasing him.
He works me there. The pad of a finger thrumming against me until I bite down on my bottom lip.
I groan.
He pushes one finger inside me, leaving the other on my clit.
He pumps in and out of me while rubbing on my sensitive nub.
Within no time, he adds a second finger, and I make a high needy sound.
He pumps them in and out, slow and deliberate, the heel of his hand now grinding against my clit on each push, and I am gone.
My head tips back against the wall. My eyes close.
My hips are moving against his hand on their own.
I’m chasing an orgasm I never knew I needed.
I’m getting wetter around his fingers, slicker, and I can hear it too in the wet sound when he draws them out and slides them back in. My breasts feel heavy inside the bodice of my dress. The silk has gone too tight across my chest. The fabric drags on my nipples every time I move.
“Hold on,” he grinds out.
His hands are on my hips. He boosts me up. My back drags up the wall, my dress riding even higher, and my legs go around his waist. The silk of my underwear is still pulled to one side.
“I don’t have a condom,” he rasps.
“I’m taking the pill. It’s over 99% effective,” I say in a rush.
The metallic rasp of his zipper is loud. He just frees himself, and I feel the brush of him, hot and heavy, against the inside of my thigh.
Oh.
Oh, yes.
Finally.
The thick, blunt head of him slides through my wetness, bumps my clit, and a sharp sound flies out of me before I can swallow it.
He lines himself up, one hand still bunched in the silk of my underwear at my hip, holding it out of his way. His eyes are on me, more green than gray. His jaw is tight. He looks angry, but I can tell that he’s turned on.
My mouth is hanging open. I can’t close it. I’m gasping for air.
And then he thrusts into me, and I yelp.
He bottoms out hard, and the back of my head taps the wall. The stretch is almost overwhelming. The full, hot, immovable length of him buried in me steals every breath I have.
I open my mouth to make a sound, and his mouth is already there, swallowing it, his tongue pushing past my teeth. He kisses me hard.
He starts to move, thrusting in and out; his cock is hitting all the right places.
He drives into me hard and fast and deep, every thrust shoving me up the wall a fraction, and I am clinging to him with everything I have.
My arms are around his neck. My fingers are fisted in his hair.
My legs are locked around his waist. The lapels of his jacket are crushed between us.
My breasts are mashed against the hot, hard wall of his chest.
The wet, slick rhythm of him moving in and out of me fills the space around us.
There is a soft slap of his hips against the inside of my thighs every time he sinks deep.
His breath, harsh and uneven, against my throat.
My own helpless whimpers, which I am trying so hard to swallow and which keep slipping out anyway.
He is grunting low under his breath on every other stroke. He growls, and I feel the vibration against my chest.
I moan, and he uses his mouth to gag me while he keeps fucking me. It is unbearable and wonderful. I am whining into him on every thrust.
My orgasm gathers low. It pulls tight. It draws everything in me into one hard, hot point, and then it stalls there, just out of reach, just—
He shifts the angle.
That’s all it takes.
The next thrust grinds the base of him against my clit, and the one after that buries him so deep, I shatter.
I come so hard that I can’t make a sound at all for the first half of it.
My mouth opens against his. My back bows off the wall.
My body locks around him, around his waist, around his cock buried inside me, and I clamp down on him in long, hard pulses that feel like they are going to wring me inside out.
Then the sound finally reaches my throat, and it is a high, broken cry.
He kisses me, moving faster now. Rougher. He rides me through the aftershocks.
He grunts low and deep. Two more brutal thrusts, deeper than anything that has come before, and then he holds himself buried as far inside me as he can go.
I feel him come on the next thrust. His eyes are closed.
He shudders against me, groaning. His arms tighten around me.
He spills into me in long, hard waves, and for each one, his hips give a little jerk against me that drives him another fraction deeper.
He buries his face in the curve of my throat to keep his own sounds in.
The growl that comes out of him moments later is muffled against my skin, and I feel it in my bones.
Then, for a few long seconds, neither of us moves.
He is breathing hard against my collarbone.
I am breathing hard against his ear. The heels of my shoes have hooked into the back of his thighs.
The wall has gone warm behind me. Everything below my waist is liquid.
He is still inside me, still pulsing, and I am still spasming around him in lazy little aftershocks I have no control over.
Oh shit!
Shiiiit.
We didn’t just do that.
Oh, no!
Crap.
He must feel the change in me, because something shifts in him too. His arms ease. He pulls his face back from my throat. He lowers me down until both my feet find the carpet again. He doesn’t quite let go of my hip until he’s sure I can stand.
He pulls out of me by bending his knees. He tries to hold back the soft grunt as he does it.
The slick, hot drag of him slipping free almost takes my knees out. The silk of my underwear snaps back into place with a small wet sound, and I feel him there at once, soaking through the silk as he starts to leak from me.
He steps back.
I press my palms back against the wall to keep myself upright. I’m still breathing heavily. My hair has fallen free. It’s in a tumble about my shoulders.
Shit!
I pull my bodice straight, my dress falling back into place. I look down, and thankfully, the fabric isn’t creased. That’s something.
I look up.
Ridge’s face is closed off. His jaw is tight. It’s different from before. He’s angry. No, he’s furious. He blames me for this. I know he does.
Asshole.
He tucks himself back into his pants and slides the zipper up. He smooths the front of his suit jacket, doing up the button. Something passes over his face and is gone again.
By the time he turns back to me, he looks almost like himself.
My pulse beats fast and high in my throat. I’m hot all over.
“That was a mistake,” I say. I know it’s what he’s thinking.
“Damn right it was,” he says. “I think it’s best if I have myself removed from this assignment first thing in the morning.”
“No.” The word is out before I think about it. “That isn’t necessary.”
He gives a humorless laugh. “It is completely necessary.”
“It was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.” I lift my chin. “We’re both adults. We acknowledge it, and then we move on. There’s no need to involve anyone else.”
“It will happen again, and you know it. We—” He stops talking.
“We what?” I ask.
He lifts his head, narrowing his eyes.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
He puts a finger to his lips. His head tips a fraction toward the doorway at the end of the passage.
And now I hear it too. Faint. The static and hum of the venue’s PA system somewhere off in the main hall. There is a voice running through an announcement. My name is in the middle of it. Then again, more pointed the second time.
“They’re paging you,” Ridge says. “Over the PA.”
Oh, no.
“They’re calling me to the stage.” It comes out half question, half statement.
“Yes.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
My speech.
I’m up.
Not now. No. I need to pull myself together. To freshen up.
My hair is loose around my shoulders. My lipstick is gone. I’m sure I look like an absolute mess. I feel like a mess.
They’re going to know.
There are two hundred people out there. Everyone is going to take one look at me, and they will know what I just did.
“I can’t go out there.” My hands go to my hair, trying to twist it back up into something. The pins are gone. There is nothing to anchor it with. “Shit! Cover for me. Tell them I’m sick. Make something up.”
“Yes, you can go out there.” He steps in close, not quite touching me. “Eyes up here.”
My eyes meet his.
“You’ll be fine. You’ve got this. You go up there, you smile, you give your speech, you get them to write the checks. You’re good at this. I watched you all evening. There isn’t a single person in that room who is more capable of pulling this off than you are.”
“I look terrible.”
“You look beautiful.”
Warmth blossoms inside me, but it is quickly replaced with doubt.
“They’ll know.”
“They won’t…trust me on this. You’ve got this, Robyn.”
I take a deep breath and nod.
“You head out first,” he tells me. “I’ll follow in a minute. No one will suspect anything. Just be yourself.”
He looks fine. He doesn’t look like he just fucked me. He looks together, whereas I’m sure I look like hell.
I nod anyway and turn.
I walk back down the passage toward the main hall. My legs feel like someone else’s.
My panties are soaked through. I’m sure I smell like sex. I’m also a little sore down there, but in a good way.
What am I saying? There’s nothing good about this.
Shit!
My pulse is loud and fast, and I can’t seem to get it under control.
I pull my shoulders back. Ridge is right, I can do this.