Caleb
Roxie’s hands are cool on my skin, and the feel of her fingers exploring my ribs and muscles makes me shiver. When she tugs at the bottom of my tee, I take a handful at the back of my neck and pull it off. She blows out a breath and spends a moment admiring my torso. I’m happy to let her, because I’m hoping to do some admiring myself in a minute.
She’s like a firecracker—a ton of sizzle packed into a tiny container, exploding into my world with a burst of colorful sparkles. She’s so… alive. And she makes me feel alive, too, which is nothing short of a miracle after the last few months.
I want to rip off her clothes, throw her onto the sofa, and thrust her into next week, but I rest my hands on her hips and take a moment to question whether I’m doing the right thing. We’re supposed to have a policy at work of no banging the temps, and I know it’s not great business sense to get involved with someone at the office. But both Harry and Sebastian got to know their partners there, and I work so hard that the only women I get to meet are at functions, where they gather together and survey the room to see which eligible bachelor they can cast their net at next. Being with Felicity has scarred me for life. I don’t know that I ever want to go out with another woman like her. And that’s one reason why I tell myself to fuck caution, and lower my lips to Roxie’s scarlet ones again.
She slides her hands up my chest and around my neck, lifting onto her tiptoes to press against me. Aaahhh, this girl tastes good. I thought she might smell of stale cigarette smoke and beer, but all I can smell is her fresh, flowery perfume, warmed through by her body as she performed.
My hands are on her hips, but I slip them around her waist and up to her ribs as we kiss. She feels tiny—she’s a lot shorter than I am, and slender with it. I know I’ll be able to pick her up easily. She runs her hands over my biceps and across my shoulders, so I think she’s enjoying the difference between us too. I span her waist with my hands, tempted to touch her breasts, but I make myself wait.
Moving back, she gives a short laugh. “Man, you work slow!”
“A gentleman doesn’t rush things,” I tell her.
“You might not have noticed, but I’m no lady.” Her eyes are feverish, and she’s breathing heavily. She takes the bottom of her vest in her hands and peels it off, then undoes the catch of her bra behind her back and pulls the straps down her arms to reveal a pair of gorgeous breasts.
Moving out of my reach, keeping her eyes on mine, she grins and unbuttons her jeans, then peels them down her legs, standing on them and turning them inside out as she struggles to get them off. When she’s done, she kicks them away, then takes off her black panties.
Now naked, she takes my hand and pulls me over to the sofa. She pushes me down onto it. And then she straddles me, sliding down my thighs until her mouth is inches from mine.
“There,” she says, her breath whispering over my lips. “That’s better.”
I laugh and cup her breasts, enjoying their softness, and brush my thumbs over her nipples. “Impatient little madam, aren’t you?”
“I don’t see any point in wasting time.” She kisses me, and I lean back on the sofa and revel in the feel of this naked girl in my arms. I run my hands over her baby-soft skin while she slides her tongue against mine and teases my lips with her teeth.
“Mmm.” She rubs her nose against mine. “I like how you look at me.”
“With my tongue hanging out, you mean?”
She laughs. “No. With… I don’t know… admiration, I guess.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You have a fantastic body.” I palm her breasts again, which are fuller than I would have expected for her frame.
She shrugs. “I’m not used to it, that’s all. Most guys are all ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am.’” She kisses me again, threading her hands into my hair.
I think I understand. I doubt that many of the men she meets have the time or inclination for foreplay. She’s young, and it’s possible she’s not even been in a serious relationship yet. If most of her encounters have been short and sweet, I wouldn’t imagine she’s had many lazy Sunday mornings in bed, the kind where you take hours exploring each other.
That’s not what this is, either, but that doesn’t mean we have to set the timer. I kiss down her neck to her breasts, and with the tip of my tongue I draw a circle around the edge of her nipple several times before taking it in my mouth. The breath hisses through her teeth, and she clutches her hands in my hair, but I continue to take it slow, teasing both her nipples at my own pace.
Roxie holds her breath each time I suck, and when I glance up, I see her eyes closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I smile and reach around her for my glass of whiskey. I take the ice cube in my mouth, crunch it up, and then before she can guess what I’m going to do, I close my mouth over her nipple.
She squeals, but I stay there and suck until it peaks in my mouth, feeling like a long, hard bead. When I finally lift my head, her eyes are dazed, and she gives me a helpless look. “Mmm, Caleb…”
Heat floods through me—Jesus, this girl is so fucking hot. There’s a fraction of whiskey left in the glass. I tip it up and pour it across her collarbone, and it trails down over her breasts in gleaming amber streams.
“Fuck,” she says, but I put the glass down and then lick up the drops, running my tongue over her skin, lapping up the liquid and teasing her in the process.
She sighs and drops back her head, rocking her hips against mine. I’d like to take hours over this, but I’m only human, and I’m already rock hard and ready. I slide my hands up her thighs, then brush my thumb over her velvet skin and down into her folds. She’s wet, and I glide through her swollen skin, gather up some moisture, and smooth it over her clit. When I circle the pad of my thumb over the button, she moans against my lips and thrusts her tongue in my mouth.
I slip an arm around her and hold her tightly while I arouse her, because I know if I don’t, she’s going to be on me in seconds. She lifts her head, and I look deep into her eyes while I stroke her, still refusing to let her go. Her teeth tear at her bottom lip, but she doesn’t fight me—she succumbs to my touch, kissing me, dipping her tongue into my mouth, then moving back to watch me. Her eyes are full of emotion that she refuses to express—I can see her vulnerability there, her awe, even, that I’m taking time like this to make sure she’s ready.
I’m hardly the greatest lover, but I like the way she looks at me as if I’m Casanova, as if I’m special because I’m taking five minutes to ensure she’s enjoying it, too.
Eventually, though, she kisses me and murmurs, “Please, I want you inside me.”
I’m not going to say no to that, so I watch her as she reaches over and grabs her purse, opens it up, and takes out a condom. I have some in my wallet, but I’m not going to complain at her thoughtfulness—I’m relieved to know she’s used to using protection.
I unbutton my jeans and, because she’s obviously not going to get up and let me finish undressing, I slide the zipper and push down my boxers. She mumbles something that contains a few swear words at the sight of my erection, tears open the packet, and hands me the condom. I roll it on, and then she shifts on top of me.
I hold her hips, and she stops moving and meets my gaze. As much as my body wants to plunge into her, I want to take this slowly. Can she read that in my eyes?