“Please,” she begs, nearly ripping my hair out. “Please, Philippe, I’m going to die. Just…just kill me already. Please. Christ. Now.”
My cock is so swollen, my balls ready to burst. If I keep at this any longer, I’m not going to be able to hold back. I’ve never come without any stimulation before. Never. I’m not exactly sure it’s overly sexy either, so I hold back. Barely. But I give Sutton what she wants. I curl my finger inside her, thrusting it deep while I suckle her clit. I keep sucking on it until I feel her rise and shatter.
Her back arches as her hips ram into my face, and she bucks against my mouth, riding me, riding out her pleasure. She clenches tightly around my finger, wave after hot wave.
I manage to wait until she comes down a little from her high before I pull away gently and sweep her off the sink. “Vietnamese.” I thrust her towards the door as gently as possible. “Please. Order. Now,” I barely manage to grunt out. I shut the door on her mystified face, lock it, and nearly tear off my pants and boxers. I step into the shower quickly, wrapping my fist around my dick.
That’s all it takes. My hips jack into my hands, I see stars, and I come hard, so hard that my teeth ache. I also nearly bite my tongue in half as I try to be quiet, and I come until my balls are drained and empty. My knees nearly give out, and I have to throw out an arm and brace myself against the shower wall to keep from falling over.
A few minutes later, my vision clears, and I can actually think. Not clearly, but at least there is some blood flowing back to my brain. I’ve never lost control like this, and I’ve definitely never come like this before either. It can’t happen again. Sutton is my fake girlfriend for my sister’s wedding, and she’s also my secretary. Who I just…just tasted. As a matter of fact, I can still taste her. Earthy. Feminine.
Freaking Hell.
This is seriously not okay. I crossed a thousand lines. I had no intention of doing this with her when I invited her back to my place for dinner. I just felt horrible and wanted to get out of my sweaty clothes. Have a shower, talk with her.
I still have to talk with her. She’s out there, probably wondering what the hell just happened—maybe regretting it. What would be worse? If she did, or if she didn’t? Maybe she’ll tell me I suck at giving orgasms and that she detests me as much as before. That would be best. I should go out there and make sure she knows it can’t happen again and that I’m not a nice guy, in no uncertain terms, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.
I’m exhausted. Tired. And I can’t summon up the energy to be a dick at the moment.
Not even my dick can be a dick right now.
I wash my hair and shut the shower off. There’s a huge white towel on the rack that I dry off with and wrap around my waist. When I crack the bathroom door open, Sutton is thankfully not standing out there. I’m able to escape to my room down the hall and get dressed in peace.
I throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I don’t bother combing my hair back. Instead, I slick it back with my hand and venture off to find Sutton. She’s in the kitchen. When she hears me enter, she whirls around like she’s been caught doing something terrible, but she was just standing there, staring at nothing at all. Blankly. Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel too.
She does a double-take, her eyes roaming over me. Confusion and heat flare in those pretty, dark depths when they meet mine. “You’ve never worn jeans before.”
“I have. Trust me.”
“Oh. Uh, I’ve never seen you wear them. Not even on casual Friday.”
“Casual Friday doesn’t apply to the boss.”
“It could if you wanted it to.”
I swallow hard. My tongue feels thick, wrong. I feel…relaxed. Amazing. Light. Free. Good. Just…good. I feel good. “Say something mean. I’m kind of at a loss here.”
“Me too.” Sutton bites down on her lower lip, making my dick spring back to life. “You’re…you ripped my dress.”
She spins so I can see the damage. It’s split right along both sides. I have to say, now that I can see more of her shapely legs, creamy skin, and those red lace panties, it’s quite an improvement. But, of course, I won’t say it out loud. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. And hell, I should stop flirting with my secretary.
“Do you want a t-shirt to throw on over the top?”
“You shoved me out of the bathroom! Rude much?”
“Sorry. I…I had to take care of something.”
“I could have helped you.”
At her words, I nearly fall over. “If you had helped, there would have been an issue…with control. I just needed to have a cold shower. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? That’s a first. I don’t think you’ve apologized for anything before tonight.”
“I also didn’t mean to eat you out and throw you out into the hallway before.”
Sutton’s face becomes a violent shade of red. I think mine probably matches hers.
“I think you stuff your pants with gym socks,” she bites out. “Ugh, god.” She shakes her head wildly. “No. That’s not right. I know now you don’t. I—you— your body wash probably costs like a million dollars a bottle, and it smells a little bit like pickles. They probably make it with leftover vinegar and old dills and upcharge for it, and only rich people with less
