“Look at me,” JP says, his voice so commanding that it makes me snap my eyes open. “Look at me when you come.”
The tone of his voice.
The meaning behind it . . .
It’s like a bolt of lust zapping right through me. My muscles stiffen, my legs shiver, and my fingers fly over my clit as I moan louder than I can ever remember vocalizing before, and I come, a ferocious orgasm breaking me into a million pieces right there on my bed.
My eyes still on JP, I ready myself to see him come, but to my utter disbelief, he puts his surging cock back in his shorts and then leans down so close that our noses are nearly touching.
“You . . . you didn’t come,” I say, breathless.
“Because that’s not for you to see, so I’ll do that in private. If you want to watch me come, if you want to see my body shake uncontrollably when I think of your sweet fingers gliding over your cunt, then you’re going to have to give me a lot more than you gave me tonight.” He moves down my body until his head is right between my legs. My breath is so heavy that I can barely register what’s happening until his tongue is gliding over my pussy, one smooth swipe before he lifts up, standing straight. Satisfaction on his face, he says, “Next time, you’ll be coming on my tongue.”
He turns and heads for my door, slipping out before I can say anything.
Breathless, I stare at the door, entirely too turned on—still—wondering what on earth just happened and how we took it this far.
Chapter Sixteen
JP
I had one beer last night, but it feels as though I had twenty. My mouth feels dry, my body is aching, and there’s an unsatisfied feeling flooding me. And there’s only one reason for this feeling.
Kelsey.
Fucking Kelsey.
I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and rub my palm against my eye as I attempt to wake my body.
Fuck.
Once again, I lost control. Returning to the penthouse, not seeing her there, and having to count down every second until she came back, turned me into a dangerous, jealous man. The moment she walked through that door, I was ready to pick a fight. I was ready to provoke her and no matter what I tried to do to calm myself, I couldn’t. That’s how I found myself in her bedroom, pulling out my dick, and watching her pleasure herself.
Even this morning, I can still see the look on her face when she orgasmed. I can hear her delicious moans. I can taste her. All three causes for this non-alcoholic hangover I’m experiencing.
From my nightstand, I check the alarm clock for the time. Shit, is it really nine already? Thank fuck it’s Saturday and I don’t have any meetings. I just have to face Kelsey this morning with no idea what to say.
Am I embarrassed about what happened last night? No.
Am I sure she’s embarrassed about what happened last night? Yes.
I don’t think Kelsey is the type of woman who masturbates in front of someone, despite the type of “underwear” she wears. I think her lingerie is probably the naughtiest thing about her.
So, what I should expect from her this morning is an extreme dose of awkwardness with a heavy side of regret. Two things I’m not very good at navigating. I don’t necessarily feel those emotions, at least not as heavily as Kelsey, nor would I feel them about a sexual experience. And it makes me want her more. How could I possibly walk away from her knowing what she tastes like? Knowing she wears sexy-as-fuck lingerie? But she still doesn’t believe in me.
Knowing I can’t hang out in my room forever, I slip out of bed and find a pair of shorts to put on so I don’t walk into the living space naked. She saw my dick last night, but I doubt she wants to see it this morning.
Dressed, I open my bedroom door and walk down the hallway, scratching my chest, only to stop at the edge of the living room where I spot Kelsey sitting on the couch, rocking back and forth, an iPad in front of her. She’s wearing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and has a worried look on her face.
When her eyes land on mine, fear encompasses them. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Your brother texted. He said he’s going to FaceTime us in ten minutes. Is he . . . is he going to fire me?”
“Why would he fire you?”
“You know, because of last night . . .” Her voice trails off, and when I don’t say anything, she adds, “You know, what we did in my bedroom.”
I tug on my hair. “Why the fuck would he know about that?”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“I don’t tell my brother shit. Plus, that’s something I’d never tell him, or Breaker, for that matter. Did you tell your sister?”