Chapter 17
Nate
London, mid-morning…
As the green awnings came into view, Casey shrieked in excitement and pointed.
At the other end of the block was the signature London department store with its elaborate facade, and flags blowing in the breeze.
She grabbed my arm. “Remember I told you about the dress I needed for Jack’s rehearsal dinner?
They have them in Oliver’s. Is there any chance I could pop in for just five minutes?
They’ve been selling out quickly and I heard they got a new shipment in last night. ”
Ah, hell. Not now. Not when we’d be at the hotel in ten more minutes. Every single second until I was alone with her was agonizing.
I was ready to launch into a myriad of questions to poke holes in her proposition, starting with how the hell would she know a store received a new shipment, and moving into why did she need to go now, but I didn’t have a chance, because she was already telling the driver to make a pit stop, then asking my co-workers if they would mind waiting.
“I swear it’ll just be a quick in and out,” she said to the lot of them, in the sweetest, most eager voice, pressing her hands together as if in prayer, that led Tom and the other guys to say of course.
Damn, the woman was irresistible, even when asking to go shopping. I was such a goner.
She pushed open the door, and grabbed my arm.
“You need me?”
She shot me a wide-eyed stare. “Yes.” Then came a roll of the eyes. “I need your opinion on the dress, since you’re the best man. I told you about this dress before.”
I gritted my teeth. “Best man’s duties,” I grumbled, and in seconds, she’d grabbed my hand and was tugging me through the mid-morning crowds, bustling along the street, and then through the door the green-uniformed doorman held for us.
“I swear I don’t remember discussing a dress at Oliver’s,” I said on the escalator, because I could have done without the detour.
I was dying to get to the hotel and take her.
Just fucking take her. Throw her on the bed, rip off her panties, and slide into her heat.
Anything for some relief for my aching balls.
The relentless pressure in my cock from her emails and the images they’d stirred up was nearing painful levels, and I’d kept my computer bag on my lap for the entire ride into the city from the airport.
The only thing that had kept me from pouncing on her in the car was the presence of those co-workers.
My brain functions had been reduced to a one-track level. I didn’t give a shit about lessons, or seduction, or submission. All I wanted was to have her. To own her body. To finish what she’d started.
“Yes. I told you,” she said insistently, waving her hand in the air as if she were trying to get me to recall a long-forgotten conversation. “The Hervé Léger. You forgot?”
She parked her hands on her hips and stared at me pointedly. I stared at her hips. At her jeans. At her long legs. Her heels. I plotted the fastest course to stripping off the denim when we finally reached the hotel.
Yank the jeans down to the knees, and bend her over the bed. Ass in the air, her elbows on the bed, her back bowed.
I jammed a hand in my hair. I needed to find a way to be near her without operating like a walking hard-on. Because that’s all I was right now. A man led by his balls. She could have asked me to jump, and I’d be twenty feet in the air.
I shrugged and held up my hands in defeat.
“Don’t remember the dress at all,” I said as we reached the next floor.
She stepped off the elevator and I followed her, figuring the least I could do was enjoy the view of her ass as she walked.
Maybe I was stooping to the basest levels today and objectifying her, but I didn’t care.
She had the most fantastic ass I’d ever seen, touched, felt, held or…
Dammit. There I was again, speeding on the express train to Lustville.
I tried to redirect my mind to the meetings my team and I were having here in London this afternoon, and the trick worked briefly as we weaved through displays of designer dresses.
Casey made a beeline for a light-blue dress, grabbed it and marched straight up to the saleswoman to let her know she needed to try it on.
I lagged behind as she headed for the dressing rooms, figuring I’d use the time to answer a few emails from business partners. That would help me in my quest too.
Then the neck of my shirt grew tighter, and I turned to find Casey jerking on it.
“I need your opinion, goofball. That’s why I brought you here,” she said and practically dragged me to the dressing rooms, where classical music piped in overhead and the voices of other shoppers were hushed.
It was like being in a church. She pressed her hands to my shoulders and pushed me down in a beige upholstered chair.
“Stay here. I’ll be right out to show you.”
She disappeared into the dressing room, and clicked the door shut behind her.
All business thoughts fled my brain once more as I imagined her skimming down her jeans, tugging off her top, sliding those curves I loved into that dress.
I heard the door open and Casey popped her head out.
“That was fast,” I said, because she’d been in there for about five seconds.
She crooked her finger. I followed her lead, entering the dressing room.
She was still wearing her jeans, her shirt and her shoes.
The dress she brought into the room hung on a hanger on a hook.
I pointed to the blue fabric and parted my lips, but the words I was about to say died quickly when she grabbed my collar, and pushed me against the wall.
In an instant, her lips were on mine, devouring me.
All my questions and irritation leaked away in the wild hunger of her mouth.
She kissed me relentlessly, sucking on my tongue and my lips so hard that I felt the kiss deep in my bones.
It vibrated through my bloodstream. My brain went haywire.
My body launched into maximum overdrive from the ferocity of her kiss.
Her hands threaded through my hair as she rubbed her lush, delicious body along mine, grinding against me, sending me spinning.
She finally broke apart from me, whispering, “You really had no idea?”
“No idea what?” My brain was still foggy and probably would be for days.
With lightning speed, she dipped a hand below the waistband of my jeans, stroking me. “Why I brought you here.”
I nearly growled from the temporary relief. “I really haven’t been able to think straight since the plane.”
She unzipped my jeans, freeing my erection.
I was ready to get down on my knees and thank the heavens for her touch.
Her soft nimble hands stroked me, and I began rocking into her fist, seeking friction, seeking heat.
I didn’t care what she was going to do to me right now.
As long as she didn’t stop touching me, anything would be okay.
A groan rumbled through me.
She pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh…you need to be quiet. Oliver’s is a very classy place,” she said softly in my ear, her breath tickling my skin. “I need you to do that for me. Can you promise me you won’t make a sound?”
There was something so sexy about her voice right now, in the way she owned every single second of my pleasure. She’d taken charge, and she seemed to relish mapping out all the details of whatever it was she planned to do to me.
“I promise,” I said. I would agree to anything right now.
“Then,” she said, lingering on every word as she breathed hotly in my ear, “fuck my mouth.”
She dropped to her knees, pushed my jeans down a few more inches, and dived in. There was no teasing, no licking, no flick of her tongue against the swollen head of my cock, and I was damn grateful. I didn’t want finesse or foreplay. I wanted to be touched.
“Just like that,” I said on a groan. “All the way.”
She stopped, and shook her head. The message was clear. She was in charge, and I had to listen. I mimed zipping my mouth shut, and she returned to lavishing attention on my cock.
This blow job was straightforward. She took me all the way in and went to town on my shaft. It didn’t matter that I’d been told to be quiet. Even if I could talk, I had nothing to say. The only sounds I’d have made would have been animalistic. Besides, she didn’t need any direction from me.
She swirled her tongue along my dick and sucked so hard she was blowing my mind too. The friction was astonishing. She was fast, and she was furious, and her lips were locked so tightly around me that she looked exactly as she had when I’d dreamed of her doing this.
Unspeakable pleasure slammed into my body, twisting, rising, coiling through my veins. I was close, so close. She stopped once and I was ready to grab her head and drag her back to me, when I looked down to see her licking my balls. The sight of that made me nearly explode.
She worked her tongue over on me until I could no longer take it. I speared my hands into her hair, whispering harshly, “Get back on me now.”
She raised her eyebrows, the hottest look of satisfaction in her gaze as she wrapped her lips around my cock once more, then grabbed my ass in her hands and rocked me into her mouth.
This was it. This was the motherfucking blow job of my life.
I gave it to her good and she took it, obliterating my hold on any thread of sanity with the way her wicked tongue licked me and her lips sucked hard, so hard that the pressure built and built and built, then it simply crashed into me, ripping all the breath from my lungs.
White-hot light erupted behind my eyelids.
I gripped her head, curling my fingers around her skull as she dug her sharp nails into my ass. I came hard in her mouth. It was an explosion of pleasure in my body, a sheer blast of intoxication rocketing through my cells.
Blow jobs were certainly known to sink a man’s hold on logic, to lead a man to say things that he wouldn’t ordinarily say.
But I’d retained some awareness of my surroundings, and the proximity to other people beyond the dressing room doors.
Otherwise, I probably would’ve blurted out something I wasn’t ready to reveal.
Not just something sexual or dirty, but something deeper, about how much I had wanted that from her. For years.
As she stood up, I was damn near ready to tell her I had dreamed of that, and not merely because I wanted her physically, but because I simply wanted her. More than I’d ever expected to.
But her finger was back on my lips again, keeping me quiet. She had no idea I’d been about to tell her how long she’d been the star of my fantasies, and how I hated the idea of ever letting go of our new reality.
Turned out Oliver’s really did have the dress she wanted. Casey didn’t even need to try it on. She told me she knew Hervé Léger fit her like a glove, so she’d grabbed the dress from the dressing room, slapped down her credit card, and snapped it up for the rehearsal dinner.
When we slid back into the car a few minutes later, zipped back up, hair straightened, she spoke first, brandishing her shopping bag. “Look! It was so worth the stop. Thank you for waiting for me.”
I put the brakes on a naughty grin, turning my head to stare out the window so my colleagues wouldn’t know that their boss had just gotten blown in Oliver’s.