Talking Dirty with the CEO - By Jackie Ashenden Page 0,38

face. “Why all this doubt?”

She opened her mouth, the usual denials at the ready. But that wasn’t what came out. “Because I like doing this with you. And I’m afraid you’re not enjoying this. I’m afraid you’re only doing it to pass time before we went to bed.”

An expression she couldn’t interpret shifted in his gaze. “Honey, there’s something you should know about me,” he said softly. “You remember what I said about my mother not liking the fact that I couldn’t sit still as a kid? Well, I can’t even as an adult. I hate it, in fact. After a couple of minutes I have to get up and do something else. Yet you’ve kept me here in this chair for a whole hour. And I didn’t even notice. What does that tell you about how I was enjoying it?”

The blush came without her permission as always, but this time it wasn’t wholly because of embarrassment. This time there was pleasure there, too. A tendril of warmth uncurled inside her.

“Oh.”

“You say that a lot.”

The tendril uncurled a bit more. “I don’t like compliments.”

“I noticed.” He smiled, his gaze dropping to her mouth and back again. “How are you with kisses?”

The tendril uncurled into a small flower, blooming in her heart. “Kisses?” Christie swallowed. “Actually, I don’t mind kisses.”

Joseph stared at her. “Show me.”

And just like that, she wanted him. So much she trembled. Slowly she leaned forward and brushed his beautiful mouth with hers. A tentative kiss.

His hand caught the back of her head, holding her there. His mouth beneath hers opened but without demand, letting her take control. Letting her kiss him, letting her explore him. An intoxicating feeling, to have this man so quiet under her hands, this man who was always moving, always restless.

Her excitement began to build along with her confidence, and she found her hands in his hair, fingers curled in the silky strands as she kissed him deeper, exploring his mouth with an insistence she hadn’t realized was in her.

“Oh, Naughtygirl,” Joseph murmured. “I like you being demanding. Show me more.”

She didn’t know how it happened. One moment she was sitting in her chair kissing him, the next she was in his lap, straddling him, her mouth exploring his strong jaw, his neck, the column of his throat. He gave a soft growl of approval, his hands sliding beneath the waistband of her sweatpants and then beneath that of her panties, to smooth over the bare skin of her bottom, squeezing her gently.

Christie shuddered, finding his mouth again, kissing him harder, wanting to show him exactly how demanding she could be.

Joseph’s hips flexed beneath her, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against the damp heat between her thighs. It felt so good, so intense.

“Give me more,” he said against her lips. “I know you can.”

Her mouth dried. Yes, she could. And she would. For him she could do anything.

Christie slid off his lap.

“Hey,” he protested, “where are you going?”

She met his gaze, the blue gone dark with desire. He looked hungry and she liked it. Liked it more than she’d ever thought possible.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. And before she could change her mind, she shucked off her sweatpants, taking her underwear off with them. Then she walked back over to his chair and climbed back into his lap, facing him.

Joseph gave a soft curse, his hands on her thighs, stroking her. “Dammit, Christie. Are you trying to make me lose it here or what?”

“You said wanted more.” Her hands dropped to the buttons of his jeans and unbuttoned them, fingers pulling down the waistband of his boxers, setting him free. “So I’m giving you more.”

He said her name as she touched him, gripping him, the velvet heat of his shaft against her palm. She closed her hand on him, reveling in the evidence of how much he wanted her.

Joseph arched his hips as she moved her hand, a groan breaking from him.

It gave her such a thrill to see the stark need on his face, gave her such a sense of power that her touch could do this to him. Could make him gasp her name. Make him groan with desire. She didn’t think she’d ever get sick of it.

Then one of his hands moved, fingers curling under her thigh, sliding higher to stroke the damp folds of her sex, making her shudder, setting her on fire. Then he slid a finger inside her.

Her soft gasp turning into a groan