TWENTY-TWO
ELLE
Every time I close my eyes, I picture Graham’s massive erection and the uninhibited way I’d attacked it, and him, in his office. In the same freaking building that just so happens to house my father’s office. Going down on Graham like that, in such a public place—it was a first for me. Pleasuring him, listening to him groan with desire and wrap his hand around my hair, had left me wet and aching. I’d wanted more. Had silently begged for more.
And once again, Senator Sexy-Ass had told me to leave with the promise that he’d get in touch with me soon. After two days of pretending that I don’t care when or if he calls, I start thinking of reasons why I should be glad he hasn’t.
One: When he does actually get in touch with me, he’ll probably just drive my body to the point of exploding and then refuse to have sex with me. Again. And that crap is getting really old.
Two: No matter how badly I want him to do the deed with me, he’s still a master manipulator. A hot, moody manipulator.
Three: He’s occupied my thoughts, my dreams, so much that seeing him again so soon will only strengthen whatever sorcery he has over the place between my thighs.
Four: Yeah ... did I mention that he’s kind of a manipulative bastard?
But when I wake up on New Year’s Eve, there’s a message from him waiting on my phone. I read it as I brush my teeth, my skin tingling more and more with every word.
Graham Delaney: I’m in Manhattan and I want you to come.
Instead of texting him back, I call while making my bed. “You want me to come to New York tonight?” I ask as soon as he answers. Or does he want me to ... come?
“I’m going into a business meeting with my father and brother.” But his voice is still lowered—rough and sensual. My knees turn to mush. “But yes, I want to see you since I won’t be back until the third. Your flight leaves at six.”
“I have work on the second.” I stretch the fitted sheet over the mattress, smoothing out a wrinkly section with the palm of my hand. “Plus, how do I know I won’t come to New York just to have you play more games with me.”
“I’m sorry but I have no idea what games you speak of. You’re going to have to be more specific, Elle.”
“You’ve been toying with me, Senator. Phone sex, oral sex, and then you watched me touch my vagina—”
“This is a phone call, Ms. Courtney, not an anatomy course,” he interrupts, “You’re a big girl. You can say it.”
I snatch the island-themed bedspread from where I’d deposited it on the floor and throw it on the bed. “My pussy,” I whisper harshly, waves of heat and pleasure crashing through me. “The point is, I’m starting to wonder if you can deliver.”
He chuckles. “Say that again. Not the part where you tried to bait me with bullshit we both know isn’t true, but that scandalized whisper where you stopped referring to your cunt using Sex Ed terminology.”
Desire settles between my thighs, and I clear my throat. “Pussy.”
“One moment,” he says in a low, sexy rumble. A few seconds later, he returns, his voice teasing. “In my message, did I ever say anything about fucking you?”
“No, but—”
“Are you wet?” What a stupid question. Of course I am. My silence provokes him to ask me again, though. “Is your pussy dripping for me, dove? Are your little fingers buried between your thighs right now because you’re hoping that tonight will finally be the one where I give you everything you choked on—and the other inches that wouldn’t fit—standing, bent, and everywhere in between?”
Trembling, I sit down. “Graham,” I murmur.
“How many fingers are you up to? Two? Three? Is your clit throbbing for me, Eleanor, because you’re ready for my cock to stretch that sweet cunt of yours? Because you’re ready for me to slam into you, pull your hair back, and tell you what you want to hear?”
In spite of my thick cotton pajama bottoms, when I cup my sex, I swear I can feel the heat radiating from my body. “And what would that be?”
“That your pussy is mine. That your ass is mine. That your throat—Christ, that beautiful talented throat—is all mine.”
Oh. My. God. “Yes,” I whisper through trembling lips.
His voice lowers to a soft, taunting whisper, “Maybe after dinner—if we get around to it.” If we get around to it?! I release a hoarse cry, and he chuckles. “Be at the airport before six, Elle. I’ll text your flight details.”
Grasping the bedspread, I catch my breath before saying, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“There’s no see to it. You’re going to come.”
I shake my head. There’s no way I’m just going to give in to him after he’d spent the last five minutes teasing me. “Give me an hour, and I’ll let you know for sure.” I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the front door bang open but then my roommate shouts my name. “I’m back here!” I yell shakily.
“Company?” Graham demands.
“My roommate. And don’t you have a meeting to go to?”
“They’ll wait. I find your heavy breathing and panting far more interesting than stocks and numbers.”
“You know, it’s a wonder you even know what’s in your bank account,” I snap, frustrated that I’d let him get me all hot and bothered again just to be shot down.
My door opens, and Blake pops her head inside, revealing a new shoulder-length haircut. “I’ve been waiting to grill your sexy ass about ...” She stops talking when she sees the agonized look on my face. Shaking my head, I nod down at my phone. She cringes and backs into the hallway. “I’ll talk to you when you’re done,” she whispers.
“Look, I have to go,” I tell Graham, flustered. “I didn’t expect her back until the end of the week, but it looks like she decided to surprise me. I don’t want to be rude.”
“Of course you don’t.” Before he ends the call, he tells me one final time, “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”
Releasing a harsh exhale, I stare down at my phone for a few seconds before throwing it face down on my bed. After I take a quick shower to erase the effect Senator Sexy-Ass had on my body, I find Blake in the kitchen. She’s sitting on a bar stool at the divider, sifting through her mail.
“I’m sorry I interrupted your phone sex.” She squints up at me. “You should really think about locked doors.”
I glare at her as I twist my towel into a turban over my wet hair. “I was not having phone sex.” She purses her lips together skeptically. “I swear.”
“But that was him, though? The guy you came to Manhattan for?” When I nod, she squeals and claps her hands together excitedly. “Give it to me. Give me everything. Let me live vicariously through your torrid affair with the older man.”
Groaning, I walk into the kitchen. “For starters, I love your hair.” She thanks me with a wide grin, fluffing her blonde hair and striking a pose. “And secondly, he’s not that much older than us.”
She shrugs. “You’ve been so closed-lipped about him, I wouldn’t know.”
Sliding the mug I’d purchased in Perth two summers ago under the coffee maker, I start a cup of hazelnut coffee. “Thirty-three. Only eleven years older than me.” Which, saying it aloud makes it sound like a lifetime.
“Oh, that’s not bad!” She opens an envelope and skims over the contents with a disgusted look on her face. “Student loans can bite my ass,” she growls under her breath. She glances up as I spoon sugar into my coffee. “It’s crazy, I’d convinced myself he was in his forties. He must have all his shit together!”
“He’s ... something.” I down a sip of my coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. “He wants me to fly to New York tonight, but now that you’re back, I think I’ll tell him no.”
She freezes in the middle of ripping open another letter. “You’re going to use me coming back as an excuse not to see your Edward Lewis?” She glares at me as I dump another spoonful of sugar into my coffee.
I roll my eyes, watching her organize her unopened mail in a neat stack. “You’ve watched Pretty Woman one too many times. Trust me, this guy won’t ever climb a fire escape for me.”
“Yeah, but you could always fuck him at a piano.” Laughing, she slides all five feet of her petite body off the bar stool and marches toward the hallway. “Are you coming?” She looks over her shoulder, arching both eyebrows. “You can give me more details while I pack your bag for you.”
Because Blake refused to let me leave for New York in the sensible navy blue dress I picked out for myself, I step off the private plane at Teterboro Airport just after seven thirty in an outfit she’d personally chosen for me from her own closet. It’s a little black dress with long, lace sleeves, a round neckline, and a flared skirt that’s much shorter on me than it is on her, thanks to our six inch height difference. I’ve paired the dress with the same pearls I’d worn to Graham’s office and nude platform pumps that make my bare legs appear super model long.
As I look around the hangar for the driver I was told would meet me, I tug down on the hem of the dress, biting my lip and wondering what Senator Sexy-Ass’s response to it will be. To my surprise, my curiosity is quickly satisfied. I feel a hand on my lower back and warm lips against my ear.
“You look good enough to eat right here,” he tells me. Inhaling his scent, warmth spreads through my veins. I look over my shoulder to find him smirking down at me. He’s wearing sunglasses, but I’m sure the look in his deep brown eyes is just as cocky as his grin. “We should go before I make a fucking spectacle of us both.”
Moisture floods my mouth, but I swallow hard and nod. Walking by his side, I steal a glance at him. And, God, he’s gorgeous. He’s dressed in tan pants and a dark blue blazer that’s open to reveal a white shirt with the top two buttons undone.
“I have to admit, I’m a little shocked you came to pick me up,” I say, and a grin splits his bronze face.
He gestures to the Mercedes SUV that had taken me to his apartment the last time I was in New York. I see AJ—the chauffeur who had driven me around before—standing by the door to the third row. Graham bends his head, tickling my ear with his stubble.
“Unfortunately, my car is still in D.C. and I would look like an ass to my constituents with a fleet of vehicles at my disposal,” he whispers, chuckling at the shiver that ripples through me. “So you’ll have to settle for this.”
I lift the corner of my lips. “Well, at least I know you won’t try anything dirty in the car, just to refuse me once you have me where you want me.”
He hands my bag to AJ, who tells me how nice it is to see me again. “Give us a moment,” Graham instructs him, earning a nod from the chauffeur. As soon as AJ goes around to the trunk, Senator Sexy-Ass whips off his sunglasses and shoves them into his pocket. He frames my face with one hand.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Elle.” Slanting his mouth over mine, he kisses me quick and hard, leaving me just as breathless and light-headed as if he’d gone through several minutes of foreplay and filthy talk. “Just because I didn’t hike up your skirt and kiss your pussy in the middle of a hangar doesn’t mean I won’t find ways to make you come in the car.”
“We’re not alone,” I say through a gasp.
He responds by easing his hand under the flared hem of my dress and shoving my panties to the side. I glance around frantically, wondering if the chauffeur is witnessing every moment of this, but AJ is still at the trunk.
Leaving my panties in their current position, Graham straightens my dress and squeezes my ass. He gestures into the car. “After you.”
I scramble across the seat and he follows right behind me.
A few seconds later, AJ slides into the driver’s seat and looks into the rearview mirror, wearing one of the most professional smiles I’ve ever seen. No doubt he’s seen and heard it all working for Graham and his family.
“All ready, Senator Delaney and Miss Sutton?”
Miss Sutton. I’d almost forgotten that Graham had given the driver my middle name to protect my identity.
“We’re ready,” he answers. I feel his hand on my bare thigh, and it takes all my strength not to react. Flushing, I avert my attention from AJ to look at Senator Sexy-Ass. “I wonder if you can get through this without giving yourself away,” he murmurs.
I pull my eyebrows together. “Get through what?”
The moment the car starts moving, he slides his hand up between my legs. He pumps my left thigh, then the right. “This.”
“You’re not really going to...” My hissed whisper dies away because he moves his hand higher. Using two fingers, he spreads my sex and then circles his knuckles around my damp flesh. My mouth starts to drop open, but I stop myself. I suck on my bottom lip and note the challenge in his expression.
Your move, dove, I can almost hear him saying.
Releasing my lip, I straighten my spine. “Where exactly is it we’re going?”
“Dinner.” He shoves one of his fingers deep inside me, then another. I dig my fingers into his forearm and hold my breath. Lifting my eyes to the front of the vehicle, I’m shocked to see AJ’s eyes are still firmly glued to the road. I glare at Graham, and he winks back.
“And where will we be dining?” Because at the rate he’s going, I’m going to be a wreck before we step foot inside wherever he’s taking me.
“It’s a surprise.” He parts my legs a bit more. Moving one more finger deep inside of me to join the other two that are already driving me into madness, he stares me down intently while addressing the chauffeur. “Eleanor wants to know if you mind turning up the radio. This song is one of her favorites.”
AJ doesn’t glance up. He simply nods. “Yes, sir.”
Honestly, I do like the song that’s playing—The White Stripe’s “Fell In Love with a Girl.” But even though the catchy beat is blasting right in my ear, I can only hear half the lyrics. The sound of my heartbeat and my pulse throbbing in my ears overpower every other sound except for his voice.
“Do you know how amazing you smell tonight?” he asks me in a conversational tone.
“This is so wrong,” I retort through labored breaths.
He touches my face, runs the back of his index finger gently over my cheek, all the while roughly pumping his other hand against my sex, plunging his fingers in and out of my body.
“Are you hungry?” I nod, and he kneads my clit with the palm of his hand. Dear God. It’s hard not to moan, not to cry out, but I maintain my calm demeanor.
“Starving,” I say.
A slow grin builds on his handsome face, and the look of desire in his dark eyes finally breaks some of my control. I shudder. Convulse around his fingers. When I close my eyes and turn my face in toward the hand cupping my cheek, he lowers his mouth to my temple. “We have twenty minutes until we reach our destination.” He pulls his fingers out of my body, smearing my wetness on the insides of my thighs. “You will do that for me over and over again until we get there.”
My body is on fire, throbbing and shaking, but I nod. “I will,” I whisper.
I expect Graham to take me to his Fifth Avenue condo for dinner, but instead, AJ drives us to a small restaurant located in the heart of West Village. My legs shake as I get out of the Mercedes, but Graham steadies me, gripping my waist possessively.
“We’re actually eating at a restaurant?” I ask incredulously. Graham shifts an eyebrow, staring down at me in amusement.
“That’s usually how dinner goes,” says the man who once told me that he normally dines alone after having sex. He guides me toward the entrance. “Don’t walk like that. People will talk.”
But I’m not sure what people he’s referring to because when we get inside the actual restaurant, I discover that the place is completely empty. Waiting by the abandoned maître d’ standing desk while Graham speaks to AJ, I focus on calming my body as I take in my surroundings. With its lush, dark leather seating, mirrored ceilings, and chandeliers, the atmosphere of the restaurant is sensual and stunning. Which makes the fact that it’s a culinary wasteland confusing.
Feeling Graham’s body heat behind me, I turn around slowly to face him. Butterflies rush through my stomach. “Where’s the staff?”
“Celebrating New Year’s Eve with their families.” Resting his hand on my ass, he guides me to a giant booth that’s already set for two—complete with the dinner he’d promised. “This was one of my earlier investments, and I pulled some strings.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Clearing out an entire restaurant is a little more than pulling strings, Graham, it’s—” I gasp because he pulls me to him and hikes up the hem of my dress to rip my wet panties off. He shoves them into his pocket. “What happened to people seeing us?”
“Do you see anybody here?” He kisses me—a deep and sexy dance of our tongues that makes me see stars. Drawing away from me, he lets out a shuddering breath. “The doors are locked. The fucking place is empty. You’re all mine.”
“And here I was thinking you were really taking me to dinner,” I tease.
“You are dinner,” he says. Urging me into the booth, he taps the inside of my left knee. “I’m fucking over waiting. Legs apart, Elle. I want to taste you.”