Jake

From the second Jana stepped off that elevator, three little words have rocketed around in my head. I love her.

It’s too soon, too much, too hasty.

So I distract us both with my hands and mouth, and then—to prove a point, that I’m in control—I tell her to be quiet as I slide her dress up to her hips.

Except when I get the soft gray fabric all the way up her strong, curvy legs, I groan out loud, because she’s wearing socks.

Thigh-high, cable-knit, gotcha-sucker-these-aren’t-tights socks.

“What was that?” someone asks over the phone.

I shove my fist into my mouth as Jana shakes with silent laughter and presses her finger to her mouth. Shhh indeed.

“I just realized I’m double-booked,” I manage to grind out. I glance at the clock. Thirty-seven minutes after the hour. Nobody is going to buy that, but what does it fucking matter when I’m the boss? “Continue. This is great stuff. Email me a summary of the rest of the conversation.”

Jana lets her laugh go when I hang up the phone, but it fades into a breathy moan when I loam over her. She blinks up at me. “What was that all about?”

“I like your socks,” I admit. “A lot.”

She spreads her thighs and brings her legs up, squeezing them around me. “And they like you.”

“I was expecting tights or something.”

“I could tell.” She giggles again as I kiss her. “If you’re done with your call, does that mean we can head back to your place?”

Soon. I’ll have her in my bed as soon as we’re through the door. She’ll leave her mark forever on my space. But unless I take the edge off here, it’s going to be a repeat of the last time we were together.

I shake my head and trail my fingers down the front of her dress, to where her skirt is curled obscenely around her waist. “I told you to be quiet for a reason. We’re not done here.”

“Oh!” Her eyes go wide, and she presses her lips together.

I take my seat again, and lean in.

There’s just an inch of soft, delicate skin showing between the top of her socks and the black cotton booty shorts she’s wearing. I press a kiss there, breathing her in. She shivers under my touch, but doesn’t make a sound. Excellent. I trace the edge of her panties with my tongue, then slide to the other leg, teasing her until she’s squirming.

By the time I tug her underwear to the side, she’s slick and swollen for me. I lick her pussy with the tip of my tongue, stroking along one outer lip, then the other. And when she rocks her hips up, seeking more, I cover her bare flesh with my mouth and give her the dirtiest kiss I can. I suck and pull on her bare flesh, then fuck my tongue into her entrance. She tastes musky and sweet, and her essence on my face is the sexiest thing I can imagine.

I grip her thighs with my hands, pressing her as wide open as possible. She whines under her breath when I suck on her clit, so I keep that up—because whining is good. Whining is needy and desperate and hot as fuck. I suck on her until she’s humping my face and her legs are closing in around my ears, even though I’m trying to hold her down, and then I slide one finger, then two, into her clutching, eager, hot little cunt.

She comes with a gasp and a cry, unable to be completely quiet as I devour her. I suck and lick until she’s begging me to stop. “So good,” she breathes.

I carefully cover her up, then push my chair back and palm my erection through my dress pants.

Her eyes go wide and she scrambles to her knees in front of me.

Wordlessly, I unzip and she takes me in hand, licking first around the thick tip, then slowly bobbing her way down my raging length.

Oh, sweet fuck. This is better than I’d imagined.

I let my eyelids droop as I watch her mouth stretch wide around my cock. Her hair is mussed up and her cheeks are bright red from the orgasm.

She’s gorgeous.

It doesn’t take me long to get there, and when I do, she swallows every drop. Well, almost every drop. As she eases off me, I spurt one last time and a bit of my come lands on her lip.

Fucking hell, that’s hot, too.

She giggles as I wipe it off, then she pulls my thumb into her mouth and damn if that doesn’t make me just want to go again.

Instead, I tuck myself away and watch heatedly as she rights herself.

Her thigh-high not-really-tights are still perfectly in place, which I remark on. “Your socks are magic. They didn’t even move.”

Her eyes sparkle. “They’re glued down.”

My mouth drops open. “That sounds barbaric.”

She lifts her skirt all the way to her hip and carefully unsticks the top of one sock from her skin. “Not in the least. It’s a soluble adhesive. No marks, and it washes off the socks, too.”

“Damn, that’s genius. I’m investing in that company. What else can it hold on to your body?”

She winks. “All sorts of things.”

I wrap my arm around her waist and nuzzle into her neck. “That’s going to be fun come Hallowe’en.”

“Hallowe’en?”

“We can do matching costumes. I bet your friends do a party, right?” I nip at her skin. Maybe I should have taken her on my desk.

“They do…”

“Is it okay that I’m already thinking about Hallowe’en?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s not like you’re suggesting how we split up the holidays between our respective folks.”

“No, of course not. We’ll worry about that come Thanksgiving.”

She squeaks and presses her hand to my chest, righting us from the dipped kiss I was about to give her.

“What?” I frown as she takes a step back.

“Nothing. I just want to not be making out while we have this conversation.”

“What conversation?” My dick has taken over all major thought processes in my body, and he’s not ashamed of that fact.

“The one where I ask you how serious we are, and not because I’m pushing for anything, but just to clear up some maybe mixed messages.”

“I told you I want you to meet my friends.”

“And bonding with your family over a turkey is the next step?”

I laugh and reach for her. “No. Coming with me to the Hamptons in the summer is the next step. Then I’ll join your friends for Hallowe’en, we’ll pick one family for Thanksgiving, and the other for Christmas. But my mother never does a turkey.” I stop and take a good look at her face. “Are you freaked out about this? Am I going to fast?”

She holds up her fingers half an inch apart and gives me an apologetic look. “A tiny bit fast?”

“Okay.” I hold up my hands. “That’s totally fair. I’m excited to see you. And thinking with my dick.” I gesture at the now softening erection that had been driving the show there for a bit. “How about you tell me what the next step is in your mind.”

She steps closer and wraps her arms around my neck. “Do you have wine at your place?”

I have an entire wine cellar, perfectly temperature controlled, but something tells me that’s not the answer she’s looking for. “Yes.”

“And food?”

“Yes.”

“Take me home, Jake. Cook with me, and tell me about your family Thanksgiving. Let’s do some more getting to know each other before we start planning our calendars a year out.”

I kiss her sweet, smart mouth. “That’s a perfectly acceptable plan.”

She laughs. “Your entire life is planned a year out, isn’t it?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

She takes a deep breath. “Then I want to know about that, too.”

Two hours later, I’ve fed her and plied her with wine, but the more we talk, the more she realizes just how different we are.

We’re curled up on the rug in front of my fireplace. I changed into jeans when we got to my place, but I left the dress shirt on because Jana likes it.

She does not like that I’ve never seen a reality TV show, or any other series she’s brought up, or the fact that I didn’t buy any of the groceries in my fridge.

A point in my favor is that I made a perfectly acceptable dinner with what my housekeeper stocked, and I did it all while taking little breaks to kiss her.

But now she’s found another serious point of difference between us.

My phone chimes with an email notice, which I ignore. And then I tell her I’m ignoring it, hoping to gain some brownie points. “Good boyfriend point of order, I’m not checking that email.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.” She sips her wine as she glances toward the offending device, still lit up on the side table. “Is that the default picture of pebbles background that came with the phone?”

Note to self, any effort to gain brownie points will go sideways in a hurry in the least expected way. “Maybe.”

She grins and reaches for the phone, her hand hovering just above it. “May I?”

I groan. “Oh, God. What kind of weird litmus test is my phone going to be?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s just like the modern version of looking in your boyfriend’s wallet. It says a lot about a man.”

I gesture to the table in the hallway where I tossed my billfold. “Have at it.”

She hands me the phone instead and bats her eyelashes. “Unlock this? Please? Unless there’s proprietary information, in which case I totally get it—”

I snort and tap in my password. I’m not hiding anything on my phone. It’s completely boring.

Which, it turns out, is the next thing we don’t have in common.

“No apps?”

I frown. “Sure, I use all sorts of apps. That one is for stocks, that’s the weather in all the cities where Aston Corp has offices—”

“No games? You don’t play Pokemon Go, do you?”

Time to lie, Aston. “Nope.” Fuck. I’m an awful liar.

She sets her wine down and climbs into my lap. “Oh, Jake. We’re nothing alike.”

“We both work hard. We like cats.”

“I like cats. Love them. You like my cats, and only one of them, really.”

“I haven’t spent enough time with the others. The kitten and I have bonded.”

“Do you want to adopt her?”

“Well, I can’t—”

“No. I get it, you can’t, and that’s probably for the best, but you and I aren’t on the same level of cat love if your first answer isn’t that you want to.”

“I—”

“I play six different addictive puzzle games on my phone. I watch television every single night unless I’m working on a deadline. I’m a certifiable cat lady and wouldn’t have it any other way. Plus I’m kind of obsessed with royal weddings.”

Oh. This is one area where I might be able to play on a level field. “I know a thing or two about royal nuptials myself.”

She gives me a skeptical look.

I don’t get it. Is she trying to scare me off? Not going to work. I cross my arms. “Last year Princess Carolina got married on a very fine May morning at Leeds Castle.”

“Uh…yes.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“I’m a closet monarchist and a wedding fanatic?”

She laughs. “Nice try.”

“I have a subscription to Hello magazine was my alternate plan.”

“I don’t believe that either.”

I don’t want to tell her the truth, but she won’t believe anything else. “I was there.”

“You were there.”

“Yes.”

“At a wedding with the Queen of England.”

“Mmm. I didn’t meet her, personally. I was seated twelve rows back. But I definitely liked her hat.”

“You were there.”

She’s stuck on that, and that’s good for me, really. The longer it takes her to ask who I was with, the better.