Lilah loses the ability to articulate as we both pick up the pace. Her hips are bucking wildly while my hand massages the tension away from her core. I can feel her juices leaking through the skimpy panties and onto my palm. She feels fucking amazing.
I don’t know why, but this feels right. Never in my life have I been so intent on bringing another woman pleasure without the desire for reciprocity. But something about Lilah has shaken everything I thought I believed.
Her hands tighten against my shoulder, her nails digging into me harshly as she cries out my name repeatedly. She lets out another tortured moan before falling apart all over my hand.
Seconds pass, then minutes, as the aftershocks of her orgasm ripple through her languid body. She’s turned to jelly in my arms and if I wasn’t holding her up against the wall, I’m sure she’d collapse into a puddle at my feet.
Who the hell knew it could be so satisfying to please someone else? I’ve never been more turned on.
Thirteen
LILAH
The air in his foyer is too thick to draw an adequate breath. I can’t stop panting even though it feels like I came eons ago. Dazedly, I drag my hand up to my tender and swollen lips.
I’ve never been kissed so passionately or brought to orgasm so easily. I feel exposed and raw, despite the fact that Andrew didn’t remove a single piece of my clothing.
Holy hell.
He’s still holding me in place against the wall as if he’s afraid to let me go. And for good reason. I’m having a hard time feeling my legs.
After a few moments of staring pointedly over his shoulder, I meet those ominous eyes dead on and nearly crumble. He looks ready to pounce at any moment.
Little by little, my senses return to me and shake me out of my pleasure-induced haze.
Overwhelming satisfaction courses through me, quickly followed by searing shame. I can’t believe I just let him do that to me.
Dropping my hand from my lips, I shake my head and hear him swear under his breath like he’d been waiting for this reaction, yet regretting it all the same.
“I have to go,” rushes out of my mouth jerkily.
Mercifully, Andrew steps back just enough to let me stand on my own. He watches me wordlessly, those blue eyes clocking my every move.
With trembling hands, I fix my skirt. “I’m sorry, Andrew, that shouldn’t have happened.”
Still, he doesn’t utter a word as I trip all over my tongue, stammering like an idiot. I feel my anger rising at his relaxed demeanor.
What have I done?
Without warning, Andrew pulls the same hand that cupped me so erotically to his nose. Taking a deep inhale, hunger becomes evident in his unwavering gaze.
“You smell so fucking good, Cupcake.” He breathes in my scent once again. “Good enough to eat.”
He did not just say that!
My knees nearly give out again, but I catch the edge of the console table just in time to save me any embarrassment. Not that it matters at this point. I’m mortified beyond measure at my reckless behavior.
“I have to go,” I repeat quietly, inching past him to get to the door.
I’m grateful but also a little bummed when he doesn’t try to stall my escape. He just stares at me coolly while I snatch down my bag and jostle the doorknob agitatedly. The damn thing won’t open.
Andrew appears over my shoulder without a sound and places his arm over mine to undo the antique latch holding the door in place. When he turns the knob, the door opens without protest.
Of course.
Feeling more flustered than ever, I mutter something about rescheduling our meeting before dashing out of the door. I run as fast as my feet can manage, only stopping when I reach the driver’s side door.
Pausing, I take in a lungful of the fresh night air before disengaging my locks. In the driver’s seat, I throw a furtive glance back to the entrance of Andrew’s house and see that his eyes still haven’t deserted me.
***
“Well, aren’t you just glowing?” my best friend, Charli, observes cheekily when she opens the door.
After stopping by the corner store for a cheap bottle of wine, I steered my car in the direction of her apartment. Nothing like some wine and girl talk to put your careless actions in perspective.
“I brought wine,” I announce drably, trudging inside her beautifully air-conditioned home.
I adore Charli’s place. It’s small and chic, tastefully decorated and the air conditioning works seven days a week. It’s heaven and the type of place I dream of having one day when my current financial storm blows over.
“I’ll go get us some glasses,” she says, disappearing into her kitchen.
I walk over to her plush sofa and plop down, letting the soft cushion cradle my ass. The cushions on my couch would usually just sink right along with me.
Charli reappears with a dramatic flourish, setting the glasses down on the coffee table in front of us. Seated beside me, she offers me a corkscrew to open the wine but I wave her off.
“You’re cute,” I tell her, grabbing the bottle and turning the twist top.
My friend erupts into her roaring, trademark laugh. “I should have known,” she says, giggling.
“Charli, I fucked up,” I groan, taking a long sip.
Charli studies me with that all-knowing gaze and I feel just as exposed now as I did earlier in Andrew’s foyer.
“I don’t see how,” she states, pulling a pillow into her lap. She toys with the fringes absentmindedly. “You looked pretty satisfied when you showed up just now.”
My cheeks warm at her sage assessment. “That’s not the point! He’s a client. I should have never gone there. I may have ruined everything.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He just fondled me when I was supposed to be there for a business meeting.”
Charli purses her lips and looks at me knowingly. “Come on, Lilah. Did you really think you were going to get
