“I want you to ride me.” The raspy growl came just as he began moving their bodies once more.
When he was on his back and she over him, she went still and just stared down. His muscled body made her bed seem smaller. The splatter of dark hair over his much lighter skin was sexy as hell, especially as it narrowed into a line that disappeared just before his navel. Her mouth watered again as her gaze rested on his dick, thick and long and waiting for her. With a light touch she ran her fingers over the line of hair at his groin, then moved up his abs until she was circling his nipples. He grabbed her wrist then, bringing her fingers to his mouth where he sucked each one. Her legs trembled, her nipples hardened to painful peaks, and she sighed.
As she angled her hips, positioning herself over his length before he pistoned into her, all she could think of was that this was perfect. This night. This man. This moment. It was absolutely perfect.
Circling her hips, she began moving over him, lifting her hands to cup her heavy breasts.
“Lovely.” He was staring up at her. “That’s what you are, Ms. Des. You’re absolutely lovely.”
That wasn’t a word she heard every day. It wasn’t even a word she thought men used, yet the sound of it coming from him had a light flutter rising and settling in the pit of her stomach.
Leaning forward she flattened her palms on his chest and began to work herself over him, bouncing her ass up and down, until he couldn’t speak any other words except damn, so good and some other indecipherable things.
Rising, she leveraged herself on her knees this time. Desta continued to stroke him, feeling the fever pitch toward climax mounting with each move. He reached up then and grasped her breasts, kneading them. On a ragged moan he let his hands move down her torso until he was holding her hips, guiding her motions to meet his thrusts.
“Come for me,” he said, his throat hoarse with desire. “Come for me, Des.”
She couldn’t speak. She wanted to, but her head had rolled back, her eyes half-closed, and her body was in that place drifting steadily toward release. That was all she could focus on, all she could think of. And when he eased a hand down between her legs, pressing the pad of his finger to her clit and circling it, she screamed. As if all the life drained from her with the blast of pleasure shooting through her body, she screamed his name more times than she could count.
“That’s my baby. Come all over this dick. Yes.” He made another sound of satisfaction, but all she knew was that she felt as if she were falling apart. Had exploded into a billion pieces and was just fracturing from delight.
“C’mon, baby, let me get back there.”
He was moving them again. Her body was so pliant she hardly had to expel any effort to ease off him and remain on her knees. But Maurice was behind her now, grabbing her hips before sinking deep into her once more.
Now his grunts were loud, with each thrust of his hips his dick pressed harder into her, the sound of their bodies meeting a clapping sound that reverberated throughout the room. Then he stopped moving, holding himself planted fully inside of her, his fingers dug into her hips, and he came.
Desta had no idea how much time had passed since Maurice eased out of her and lowered both their bodies to the bed. She barely recalled what day of the week it was.
“Bathroom,” he groaned the one word but only fell to his stomach on the bed beside her.
She rolled over onto her back, her legs still partially spread, every part of her body on display and not a pinch of modesty. A sound buzzed through the room. It took her a second to realize it was a phone—Maurice’s. He got off the bed where he’d presumably been gathering his strength to get up and go to the bathroom. Grabbing his boxer briefs and jeans in one hand, he used the other to dig his phone out of his pocket.
Her eyes drifted closed after that, her mind still floating in the aftermath of what was arguably the best sex she’d had in her entire life. The sound of Maurice cursing ripped her from that pleasurable thought. With his phone and clothes in hand, he disappeared into the bathroom. For endless moments she simply lay there staring at the door, convincing herself that there was no reason for her to think anything other than he’d gotten a message he didn’t like.
That didn’t mean the message was from a woman. But he’d never rushed out of a room with his phone before. Not like Gordon had.
She sat up on the bed. Maurice wasn’t Gordon. Desta knew that without a doubt, and she refused to let any more thoughts of her past invade the happiness she’d finally found.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DESTA’S HEART DID a quick flutter and start the moment Maurice walked into her office on Wednesday morning. Today’s suit was a rich cranberry hue, paired with a caramel turtleneck. The smile he gave her after stepping inside and closing the door made her want to leap out of the chair and wrap her arms around him.
The fact that she was at work, wearing another long pencil skirt—this one a yellow and gray African print—with four-inch heel boots, held her still. “Good morning,” she said as he passed behind her desk to where she sat.
He turned her chair, dropped a
