kiss didn’t end. It was as if they were both determined to remain true to their terms and see just how far they could go without ever letting their mouths separate.
Pretty damn far, she soon realized as he slid his hands back down her body and unfastened the button of her jeans.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered into his mouth.
She suspected he hadn’t been waiting for permission.
As he slowly lowered her zipper, she lifted herself up a little, giving him access. He pushed her jeans down just enough to allow him to slip his hand into the steamy crevice between her thighs. When those knuckles brushed against her most sensitive spot, she let out a cry, needing so much more.
He seemed to realize she was right on the edge. Thrusting one hand into her hair to cup her head, he deepened the kiss, making love to her mouth with hungry determination. His other hand remained still, but just as she was ready to pound on his shoulders to demand more, he reached under the elastic edge of her panties. Tangling his fingers in the soft thatch of hair, he moved deeper, until the rough pad of one found her clit and began to work it.
Heaven.
Not being able to pull back and look down was painful. But she didn’t want to end the kiss, didn’t want to break the spell, for fear everything would stop. All her senses were on overload as she smelled his musky scent, tasted every inch of his mouth, felt his body pressed against hers, saw his handsome face and heard the small groans of pleasure he didn’t try to disguise.
Just as she was on the verge of coming, he moved his hand away. This time, she did pound on his shoulder, but he responded with an evil chuckle that she tasted as well as heard. When she realized he was moving deeper into her panties, so that he could slide a long, warm finger into her, she forgave him his every sin.
God, it had been so long since she’d taken anyone into her body. Her muscles clenched him, squeezing, drawing him deeper. He thrust in, drew out, mimicking what he would do when he really made love to her, until she was squirming on his lap.
As if knowing she was desperate for more, he gave her another finger, plunging both deep, stroking her way up inside until she began to shake. And when his thumb moved back up to cover her clit, a warm pulse of pleasure burst out and rushed through her. Every cell in her body felt on fire, from the bottoms of her feet to the tips of her hair, and she could no longer control herself. She threw her head back, gave a long, utterly satisfied cry, and rode out the orgasm that left her quaking and weak.
When she finally came back down to earth, she felt completely spent and collapsed onto him, her head on his shoulders, her arms around his neck. Oliver was kissing her temple, stroking her stomach and then her lower back.
But their mouths had fallen apart. The kiss had ended.
She held her breath, wondering if he was going to say to hell with their deal and make love to her the way his rigid, throbbing cock said he was dying to.
When he gently lifted her off his lap and sat her back down beside him on the couch, she had her answer.
“Seriously?”
She didn’t have to say another word. He knew what she was asking; she could tell by the look on his face.
He rose to his feet and tucked his shirt back in.
“Thank you, Candace. Good night.”
She gritted her teeth and zipped her jeans, reminding herself that this was entirely her fault. She’d promised one kiss and no more. No, she hadn’t exactly invited him to stick his hand down her pants and finger her into oblivion, but it had seemed within reason as long as they were sharing that one kiss.
He was just playing by the rules. Damn the man.
She rose, tucking her blouse back in, and lifting her head, as if she was totally fine about how this whole thing had played out. “Good night, Oliver.”
She turned her back to him and began to pick up the bottles and glasses, tidying up the room. He stood there for a moment, watching her, as if waiting for her to throw a fit, call him a jerk or beg him to stay. But she didn’t. If he wanted to