15
| JASON |
WEDNESDAY
(Time: T-minus zero if I’m not careful.)
Jesus, watching Summer come apart is without a doubt, the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
And I’m now well and truly addicted.
Gently cupping her soft mound, I press the heel of my palm against her clit as I move my mouth over to nuzzle the curve of her neck.
Just as sweet as the rest of her.
“Ready for round two, baby?”
Her eyes fly wide open when I slide two fingers inside her. Hell, she’s even tighter now that she’s come once, her pussy walls swollen, wetter and hotter than before.
Once I have her full attention again, I begin whispering the dirtiest, filthiest fantasies I’ve been having in her ear, detailing it all for her while she squirms. I meant what I said, I want to take her in every possible way, every possible position.
I want her to crave me as much as I crave her.
“You’re coming for me one more time,” I tell her.
At her incredulous gasp that sounds part moan, part grumble, I chuckle and wrap my hands around her ankles so I can pull her to the edge of the bed and spread her thighs apart. I want to bury my face in her until she comes in my mouth one more time. Until I have her wet enough so I can take her without hurting her.
Not today though.
But soon.
Even as I make that vow—which I’m going to goddamn hold myself to if it kills me—the reminder that I’m the first man to touch her this way, that I’ll be the first man to slide into her perfect virgin pussy makes me fucking leak precum again.
But I stay the course.
I work my tongue in teasing little circles round her clit, forcing her moans to a higher decibel, wilder, less restrained than those quiet, breathy little moans and whimpers she was making earlier.
This is what I want. To break Summer of that tameness she uses to keep herself in check.
She’s the same way on the jobsite. Tempered at all times, even when I know there’s a whole bunch of cute craziness teeming inside of her.
This is going to be my new hobby. I’ve decided. Some guys golf. Me, I’m going to spend all my free time making Summer come as often as she’ll let me.
And I tell her as much as I stroke my tongue over her hot, swelling clit.
Her hands all but shred the bed sheets. “Oh my god, Jason, I’m going to…”
A fucking flood of her juices fill my mouth and it takes everything I have not to come in my fucking pants. I keep lapping at her, holding her firm while her clit pulses against my tongue.
When her body goes boneless, I trail soft, gentle kisses up her torso, making my way back up to her lips.
“I should go,” I say quietly against her mouth as I tuck her in under her blanket.
“What?” She looks like she’s swimming in quicksand as she tries to summon the energy to get back up.
She is not successful.
Which makes me pleased as fuck.
“You can’t just…” She gestures weakly in the air between us as if she can’t find the words.
“Eat your pussy?” I supply and her cheeks blaze red.
“And then leave,” she says with feeling. “You just keep giving me these…these drive-by orgasms without letting me do anything to you.”
I chuckle. Christ, this woman and her friggin’ cuteness. “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more than to stay and let you have your wicked way with me, but I have to leave for the airport. Business trip, remember? China? For one week?”
“Oh, right,” she sighs disappointedly. “Wait,” she glances over at the clock on her nightstand, “shouldn’t you be at the airport already?”
“I’m going to have to book it over there now.”
“Do you need a ride?”
I smile. “No, I always park my truck at the airport so I can go straight over to meetings and things as soon as I land.”
“Oh.” She tilts her head at me curiously. “Do you travel in your own billionaire jet? I never asked you all the other times you flew out.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No. I always fly commercial. Can’t justify the cost of a private plane. Especially not for these international flights. Plus, there are more cities and flight times if I go commercial.”
“Makes sense,” she says. “I’ve never gone anywhere outside of the country. Really, I just have my passport for government contracts.” Now that she’s no longer in her post-orgasmic haze, she’s back to her usual chatty self and winding all that long, gorgeous hair back up in a quick knot atop her head that leaves a few locks sticking up every which way.
It’s fucking adorable.
She props her chin up on her knees to watch as I re-buckle my belt and straighten out my clothes. “Is your plane going to have those personal pod seats?”
“In the first-class section, yes, but I’m flying business class. With how much I have to travel, the difference in expense adds up. I could fund ten more full college scholarships a year with the money.” I shrug. “So I do.”
She smiles. “God, you really are a saint.”
I puzzle over that. “Who calls me a saint?” Stoic grouch is much more appropriate.
“I do. To anyone who asks. You’re easily the most giving person I know.”
“I’m not a saint, Summer.” I’m not sure why I want her to be clear on that, but I do. “I occasionally splurge on things. At each of my different cabins, I’ve got way more modes of transportation than a person needs—a couple of motorcycles, ATVs, boats, that sort of thing.”
“You have cabins? As in plural?”
I can’t help but smile over that. Summer is just such a refreshing change of pace. Most women I meet already have a stalker file of all my assets. “I’ve got three cabins in the U.S. The one I spend the most time at is actually not too far from our jobsite.”
“Oh.”
She’s like a curious little kitten, this one. And there’s another question brewing in there, I can see it. “Go ahead and ask. I’ve got a few more minutes.”
“No, it’s none of my business.”
I just wait her out. From my experience, questions don’t exactly stay bottled up in Summer for very long.
She breaks a second later. “Okay, I was just going to ask why you don’t stay at your cabin if it’s close to our jobsite.”
Instead of answer right away, I ask her a question of my own, “Would you stay at the cabin? If it were closer than the penthouse?”
“Actually,” she chuckles, “I’d probably pick the cabin even if it were farther away.”
A woman after my own heart.
“I would too. In fact, I used to stay at the cabin more than my loft in the city…that is, until I discovered my new tenant was an adorably sexy insomniac who had this cute habit of knocking on my door in the middle of the night.”
She blushes. “Sorry about that.”
I drop a kiss on her lips. “Don’t be. I’m not.”
My phone chimes and I really can’t ignore this last alert. “Sweetheart, as much as it pains me to ‘dine and dash’ on you.” I grin as her cheeks burn an adorable bright red. “I really do have to head over to the airport. I’ll have my cell phone throughout the entire trip so call me if you can’t sleep. As long as I’m not in a meeting, I’ll answer.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she says softly.
“I don’t ever make offers I ‘have’ to, just ones I want to. Trust me, talking to you will likely be the highlight of my days there.”
I pull her in for one final kiss, and make one parting request before I go…
Request, demand—tomato, tomahto.
“No touching yourself this week unless you’re on the phone with me. Deal?”