They were pert and eager for his touch, and he couldn’t resist lifting his hands and framing the generous mounds that cushioned the candied perfection.
Raking his thumbs over them, he watched as her breathing roughened, a flush rushed across her face, and the drowsy sensuality in her expression increased.
Busy, industrious, and determined, her fingers hadn’t forgotten their task, either.
They loosened his belt, sliding one end free of the other before they moved to each of the metal buttons. They slipped free easily, the heavy denim parting to reveal the engorged, iron-hard length of his cock.
His teeth clenched as her fingers, cool and slender, inquisitive and filled with eager pleasure, wrapped partially around the shaft and began to caress it.
“Fuck. Sheila, love, I don’t know if I can stand this for long.”
“Ah, poor baby,” she whispered as his lips moved over hers, then brushed over them.
“I bet you think this is all the courage I have in me too.” She was laughing. Casey could hear the amusement in her voice and it only spurred his determination that tonight, in this office, he would damned well own her when they were finished.
He was sick of this damned cat-and-mouse game they kept playing. Sick of chasing after her, knowing damned good and well she wanted him clear to her soul, and yet she still refused to admit it.
“You belong to me.” It was a warning, and one he hoped she took seriously.
But as he made the claim, he made certain she couldn’t fight against it too hard.
As the words slipped from his lips, he slid two fingers past the elastic leg of her panties and speared into the slick, heated depths of her pussy.
A cry tore from her lips as her back arched and her head fell back weakly.
Pleasure suffused her expression, tightened her nipples further, and sent a rush of juices flowing over his fingers.
Soft, slick; he knew the taste of it, and ached for it.
He could spread her out, right there on his desk, and taste her as he craved.
But Sheila had other plans.
Surprise raced through him once again as one small hand speared into his hair, her fingers gripping the strands and pulling until his lips met hers.
And there, control became only a distant memory.
He had heard kisses described as many great and varied things over the years, but no description could come close to the sweet nectar and sensual spice that filled his senses as her lips parted beneath his.
As though starving for feminine touch, addicted and hopelessly lost to it, Casey felt his senses focus on it entirely. Her kiss, her tongue stroking back against his as he devoured her.
She devoured him in return.
The fingers of one hand tightened even more in his hair as the other stroked and caressed the violently sensitive head of his dick. He could feel himself beginning to break apart for her. His balls were tightening, the head of his cock thickening further, throbbing in an impending release when she suddenly stopped.
His head jerked back, his eyes opening, lips parting to demand an explanation when his gaze moved down again and he watched those lush, hungry lips descend to his stomach.
Like silk against roughened iron, her lips parted, and her tongue licked out to allow herself a taste. Running down the tightening muscles, Casey could only watch, suspended in disbelief at the incredibly erotic sight of Sheila going down on him.
Without urging, without that desperation on his part, or that first moment of shyness or uncertainty on hers, she was taking what she considered hers.
Her lips covered the broad, engorged head of his cock. Curious and destructive, her tongue licked over it, learning his dick as though it were the first time for her and she wanted nothing more than to experience each sensation, each stroke of pleasure.
She was taking every part of him and loving every damned minute of it.
The furiously pounding crest was tucked against the roof of her mouth, her tongue moving against that sensitive spot just beneath the head.
A moan of feminine pleasure vibrated against the hard crest as heat began to burn his already overloaded senses. Delicate fingers moved between his thighs as one hand tugged at his jeans. He helped her push the denim down his legs, so fucking eager for her touch he would have torn them off if he needed to.
Anything to feel her palming the tight, tortured sack of his balls as his thighs tightened with the need to come. He could feel his seed beginning to heat, to boil through his system. There was no way to hold it back. There was no way to hold on to his control.
His fingers tightened in her hair, his attempt to pull her back impossible to complete. He was holding her to him instead. Staring down, watching as he fucked her swollen lips and watching her eyes darken with anticipation.
Her cheeks hollowed. Her mouth worked him with burning sensuality.
Ah God. Not yet. If he came now there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d have the control to touch and taste her as well. To drive her as insane, make her as desperate for him as he was becoming for her.
And there was only one way to stop her. Only one way to ensure that his satisfaction wasn’t the only one attained.
A second before it was too late, just as his balls gave that final convulsive squeeze and sent his release spurting between her lips, Casey pulled back.
In a single move he had his dick out of her mouth, bent, gripped her arms, and pulled her to her feet before laying her back on the desk.
The soft material of the skirt fell back along her thighs as he pushed his hands beneath, gripped the elastic of her panties, and tore them from her slender body.
In the next heartbeat, he had his head buried between her legs, his lips circling her clit, his tongue tasting the soft spice and feminine pleasure that welled from her.
There was no time for seduction, no control left to tease. There was only the hunger for her and the need to taste her sweet release spilling to his lips.
He should have been used to it by now, he thought. The taste of her, the heat of her. The incredible pleasure that whipped through his body at the knowledge that she was losing herself in the intensity and in the sensations just as he was losing himself in the giving of them.
Pushing his tongue deep inside the tight depths of her pussy as her fingers moved to his hair, Casey licked and probed at the sweetness. Fucking her with his tongue, his body clenching, need raging inside him as she writhed beneath him.
Sheila fought to breathe through the wild, chaotic pleasure beginning to zip through her.
She couldn’t help clenching her thighs, her legs lifting, gripping his shoulders as a cry escaped her lips. She couldn’t fight against it. She didn’t want to fight against it. She just wanted to feel him against her, over every inch of her body.
Inside her—
A harsh, unbidden moan passed her lips as his tongue thrust inside the clenched, snug depths of her pussy again. The rasp of his tongue against the sensitive nerve endings sent her spiraling closer to release. Spasms of sensation shot to her womb, drawing it tight as she arched and felt the warning tremors of her orgasm as they began to vibrate inside her.
So close. She was so close to coming, the need for it pounded painfully in her clit and the tormented depths of her pussy.
She was burning out of control.
Her hands clenched in his hair to hold him closer. Her hips lifted further, desperate to force his tongue deeper inside her. To increase the strokes, to make him fuck her deeper, to give her that last teasing thrust that would propel her over the edge.
And she was so close. So very close … when he pulled back.
SEVEN
“Casey, don’t stop.” Sheila reached desperately for him, confused, aching with a sensual hunger that went so deep she knew it went far beyond the physical.
“I want to feel you coming on my dick, not my tongue,” he groaned, as he gripped the heavy shaft and tucked it between the swollen folds of her sex.
Flames, sharp and intense, shot through her pussy, then the rest of her body as the electrical sensations continued to build between them.
Gripping her hips with his hands, his gaze locked with hers, Casey began to move, slowly at first, stretching her, working his way inside her. The heated burn of the penetration had her gasping, fighting for breath as pleasure began to build inside her with a strength she hadn’t experienced with Casey so far.
It was always better than the time before.
It was always hotter.
“Good, baby?” he asked, his voice strained, the muscles standing out in his neck with his obvious fight to hold back his release.
“Oh God, Casey, it’s so good,” she whispered. “You know it’s always so good.”
“Like being wrapped in pleasure, Sheila,” he agreed. “You wrap more than my dick in pleasure, baby.”
Every muscle in her body seemed to clench and spasm at the explicit pleasure his words sent tearing through her body.
He pushed in deeper, an inch at a time, wedging between the tightening muscles of her clenched sex as his hips worked slow and easy, his muscles tense and powerfully restrained.
It was all she could do to keep her eyes open. Sensuality and building ecstasy had her fighting to stare up at him, to watch his expression.
At times like this, she could glimpse emotion on his face. She wasn’t always certain what that emotion was, but it was there, and it fascinated her.
Just glimpses, just small hints of the emotions he might feel. Emotions she craved, feelings she needed so desperately to know he felt.
“Casey,” she moaned as his cock slid into her pussy to the hilt. It sent fire raging through every cell of her body. It had her flying through sensations she didn’t know how to describe or how to handle.
“Tell me, baby.” Leaning closer, his head lowered, his lips moving to her neck, to her ear. “Tell me, Sheila. Do you love it? Do you love feeling me inside you? Fucking you until we both feel as though we’re going to die?”
“I love it.” She loved him. “It’s so good, Casey.” It was so past good. It was incredible.
It was flying without wings.
Moving beneath him, hips rising and writhing, grinding against his pelvis as his cock sank deep inside her, Sheila let that pleasure—let the man—have her in ways she never had before.
She was barely able to hold her eyes open, but she did, to hold his gaze. To stare into the swirls of emotion that filled them. To become ensnared in him as the heavy strokes began to quicken, lengthen.
Ecstasy began to build, to tighten and stimulate until Sheila couldn’t hold back the moans and pleasure-filled cries that rose in her throat.
She couldn’t bear the sharpened pleasure much longer, she knew. She couldn’t get close enough to him. She couldn’t move fast enough, he wasn’t moving hard enough.
“Casey, please,” she cried out as her legs wrapped around his hips, her arms tightening around his neck.
She had to come soon. She couldn’t bear this much sensation much longer. She couldn’t survive the pleasure, the building pressure that swelled the muscles of her pussy, clenching it, tightening it as Casey fucked her with ever faster strokes.
Their moans filled the air. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his teeth rasped over a torturously hard nipple. That additional stimulation sent her exploding, careening as ecstasy detonated inside her with a force that obliterated reality.
She felt the rush of her juices as Casey buried himself deep inside her. The heavy, fierce spurts of his come filling her destroyed her senses.
The fierce throb and jetting heat amplified her ecstasy, throwing her higher, racing through her system and increasing the rapturous surges of intensity that exploded over and over and rushed through her body.
Shaking, trembling, she could only lie beneath him shuddering as Casey came above her, their bodies locked in pleasure, and in something she knew went far beyond the physical.
In a blinding second of insight, Sheila knew she had finally fallen irrevocably and totally in love.
She loved Casey in ways she had never loved when she was younger. She loved him past her heart, and into her soul. And she loved him with a power she knew she would never escape.
And she knew that as of yet, there hadn’t been so much as hint that Casey cared more for her than for any other woman he’d taken as a lover.
She could very well be lost in this maze of emotions alone. And being there alone was a very frightening thought.
EIGHT
There was a small bathroom and shower to the side of the office that they used. The pelting water cascaded over them, washing away the perspiration that had accumulated along their bodies.
They shared the shower. Casey’s larger body should have made the small space seem cramped; instead, there was a distinct feeling of comfort—perhaps protection—that Sheila welcomed.
But she was damned if she knew how
he
felt.
The past few days without him hadn’t been her best, either. For some reason, she’d been more on edge than usual, nervous, almost panicky each night as she drove home from the bar with the flash drive of information collected the night before tucked in her boot.
It had never bothered her before if she saw headlights in her rearview mirror, but the last few days—it bothered her.
And it shouldn’t. Other than the fact that it seemed to be too frequent, and those lights seemed to be the same ones nightly.
“You look worried.” Rubbing a towel over his hair to get the last of the water from it, Casey watched her questioningly, his head tilted to the side as Sheila pulled her clothes back on.
She gave a quick shake of her head. “You worry me.”
Pulling her shirt over her head and adjusting it over the hem of the soft skirt she had worn that night, she glanced back at Casey.
“And why do I worry you?” Tossing the towel to the counter, he turned, braced his very nicely rounded, towel-wrapped rear against the counter and crossed his arms over his broad chest as he regarded her.