halt as his lips cover mine.
“I dare you to hold out” he breathes against them. I lose that dare on the spot.
“You only have two minutes,” I taunt.
“With two minutes, I could get you there twice, but I think I’ll take my time.” I get the sense that isn’t a boast, but my heart sinks a little at the thought of having to wait. I have absolutely no intention of holding out on this one. Our mouths crush together as he slants his head, deepening the kiss, allowing his tongue to capture my own. When we break apart a few seconds later, we’re breathless, but I shake my head.
“You’re a good kisser, but you’re not that good, West.”
“I think you want to lose, Duchess. Now I’m going to make you wait even longer.” He bends his head, denying me his kiss, but only so that he can start the slow progress from my collarbone to the valley between my breasts. My eyes clamp shut, as my head falls back, knocking against the mirror. When I feel the heat of his mouth settling over the peaks, I open one eye, and watch as he slowly begins to suck it through the fabric of my tank and bra.
Seeing it is almost as amazing as actually feeling it. It might not be enough to get me there, but I’m not going to complain. After a few seconds, he switches to the other side, repeating the move until I’ve begun to whimper. Then he releases me, and it takes all my willpower not to grab his hair and shove him back where he belongs.
Jameson straightens up, and traces a finger along the bow of my upper lip. “I could get you off that way,” he promises, “but I’m feeling very selfish tonight.” His finger runs along my lower lip, down my chin, and neck, forging a line down, down, down, until his hand reaches the waistband of my jeans. With one practiced move, he unbuttons them.
“Pink panties,” he says with approval. “God, you’re going to kill me, Duchess.”
In fact, I am going to kill him, if he doesn’t finish what he started soon. I buck against the hand still gripping my jeans. He takes the hint, and his hand flattens against my lower belly. He slides it past the thin satin of my panties, stopping just before he reaches the promised land.
“Look at me,” he commands. “Show me your green eyes, Duchess.”
I bite my lip as I open my eyes, trying to stay still.
“Still determined to win?” His finger slips to the precise point of my desire and begins to rub slow circles around it.
I nod, but my breath hitches in my throat.
“Don’t pass out,” he warns me quickening the pace. He crushes his body against mine, trapping his hand in place. His hips begin to imitate the rhythm, adding an insurmountable amount of pressure. “Show me how pretty you look when I’m giving you what you need, Duchess.”
The breath I’ve been holding releases in a throaty cry as I crack apart at the seams. My muscles spasm and I crumble into him. His mouth finds mine and he sucks his own pleasure from my lips. I have to press my thighs tightly together when he doesn’t stop. Jameson takes the hint and withdraws his hand. He grabs my hip and kneads it as I come down from the amazing high of his touch.
“What happens when you lose a dare?” he asks.
I stare dreamily at him and smile. “I think you win the game.”
Chapter Twenty
My legs shake as Jameson hits the button to restart the elevator. Best two minutes of my life. Judging from the pleased smirk on his face, he’s happy about it, too. But when the elevator deposits us onto his private floor, we’re greeted by the loud beat of bass. Jameson grabs my hand and drags me out, cursing under his breath. Given the shattering experience I just had, it takes more than a little effort to keep up with him, especially in heels.
“I cannot fucking believe this,” he mutters as he leads me into the entertainment suite. It looks like a scene from last weekend: classmates passed out on the furniture, girls doing body shots on the bar, even Hugo waves from the couch.
Jameson turns to me. “I’m so sorry about this. Can you give me a minute?”
I nod but he’s already abandoned me. I stand awkwardly in the midst of my drunk schoolmates. So much for the romantic evening