Smart Man (2 page)

          “Not teasing,” he says, kissing now at the corner of my mouth.

          “Please.” I would be shocked at the needy thread of my voice if I actually gave a damn in the moment.

          I am no longer Ms. Cool Professional. I am my dark part, the part ruled by touch and taste, the little animal within that lives on heat and desire—and I want him pressed tightly to me. As if sensing the sharp edge of my need he pushes me up against the door. There is a controlled roughness that has me clutching at the confines of his clothes. Reaching blindly for his belt and zipper. I don’t need soft caresses and soothing words. The little beast that I have become wants it hard and fast and now.

          He’s finally following my cues and has pushed my sensible pencil skirt up, and he’s tugging at the edges of my panties. Those fingers, those lovely rough fingers, are twirling in the wetness that my body has created just for him, and I gasp out with pleasure.

          “Is this all for me?”

          The feel of his hot breath on the side of my face causes me to arch into his touch as I continue to claw at his treacherous pants. Panting at the feel of his fingers now inside of me, pushing and stroking me into a heightened frenzy, I practically crow with the feeling of success as I get his pants undone. Slipping my hands inside, I moan at the feel of him hot and heavy in my hand. I love the feel of a man, silk and steel, and as I make out the contours of his lovely, lovely cock I feel my body get wetter in anticipation.

          “Condom?”

          “Of course.”

          “Smart man.”

          “I try,” he chuckles against my neck.

          He pulls his fingers out of me as he does the obligatory fumble of locating his condom and fitting it on. I take the opportunity to place butterfly kisses along his jawline, tracing my tongue across the very edge. He fists his hand in my hair and pulls my head back and looks down at me. I don’t need that much light to see the heat and desire in his gaze, and I reflect it back with one of my own. He kisses me hard just before he lifts me up and pushes himself inside.

          I hold my breath for the briefest of moments because it’s the most exquisite sensation to be entered for the first time. When the man you have chosen to know you in such an intimate way seats himself inside. There is the initial stretch and burn of my inner walls working to accommodate him, and my very bad boy has a great deal for me to accommodate. Like the smart man he’s proven himself to be, he sinks slowly inside, allowing me to adjust and also to be teased by the anticipation of all he has to offer.

          I dig my nails into his shoulders and push him those few inches deeper within and sigh with contentment.

          “Ready?” he asks in a strained tone.

          “Yes,” I hiss back.

          It’s all the invitation he needs before he begins a steady rhythm. He hasn’t removed my panties, instead just shifting them to the side, and the feel of his hands clutching my ass under the fabric is a surprising aphrodisiac. I am all senses at this point. The feel of his breath hot and needy on my neck causes me to arch and plead for more. The texture of his shirt-covered muscled back under my hands makes my fingers itch with wanting to touch his hot, hot skin. The feel of his jean-clad hips rubbing against my stocking-covered thighs sends shivers of electrical currents through my body. But it is that lovely, lovely cock of my bad, bad boy that is really sending me over the edge.

          He has set a tempo my body instinctively responds to, and I feel that tingle down in the very bottom of the very core of my being begin to ignite. It’s the flutter just at the very edge of my grasp, and I know that if I can only reach it, if I can only hold it as close to me as possible, I will fly. So I push and thrust and I make those tiny guttural sounds of pleasure that cause his hands to tighten and release on my ass. I’m whispering dirty, dirty words of encouragement as I lick sweat from his neck ever so delicately. I use teeth and tongue when words escape me, and when his ever-so-talented fingers rip my panties just that little bit so he can strum at my ever-so-sensitive clit, I have what I want. That dark part of me freezes in anticipation, and wave after wave of pleasure washes over me.

          He seeks his release and finds it, but I’m too greedy to notice. I am reaching for a second helping and coo with excitement as I find it. Mr. Sexy Pool Player has met and exceeded any of my expectations, and as he slowly pulls himself from me, I can’t help whispering into his ear.

          “Smart man.”