Burn Me Once / Boardroom Sins. Clare Connelly

body vibrate.

      Nothing, I repeat, nothing about him is disappointing.

      ‘Would you find the conversation more acceptable if I do this?’

      And he kisses my neck, sending shoots of awareness through me. I nod, but coherent thought is becoming difficult. It’s worse when he drops his hand beneath my skirt and finds my heated core, sliding his fingers deep inside me. I throb around him, groaning at the sweetness of the invasion.

      ‘You were saying...’ I whimper as pleasure builds, need intensifies.

      ‘Ground rules...’ The words are throaty.

      ‘Right.’

      I tilt my head back until it connects with the glass of the window. I am lost to pleasure once more. How can he do this to me? I read a Cosmo article years ago about the number of calories a woman burns when she comes. Was it sixty? A hundred? I’m going to need to up my carb intake while I’m fucking Ethan, that’s for sure.

      ‘What do you want from me?’ he asks, his lips brushing the words into my mouth.

      I shiver; it’s so sensual.

      ‘Fun,’ I grunt back as pleasure intensifies and thickens around me. ‘Just fun.’

      ‘No flowers? No sleepovers? No expectations beyond satisfaction?’ he teases. ‘Nothing serious?’

      ‘God, no. Fun.’ I dig my fingers into his hips. ‘Fuck, Ethan, I’m...’

      He withdraws and my eyes fly open, finding his. Outrage trembles inside me, but only for a moment—because then he’s crouching on his haunches and his mouth is against me, his tongue demanding that my pleasure continues.

      ‘Oh, God...’ My fingers dig into his shoulders now and all my weight is against the window.

       Please, don’t let it break.

      But would I even care? What a blissful way to go.

      ‘What else?’ he asks my clit, so that I can’t help but laugh.

      It’s quickly subdued by a keening cry of need. He’s so good at this. So good at everything.

      ‘It’s just temporary...’ I can hardly speak now. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think. Feelings are carrying me away. ‘How long are you...’ I pause, trying to catch my breath ‘...in the States for?’

      ‘Two weeks.’

      ‘Okay.’ I nod, but I am losing my mind with pleasure. ‘That’s our end-date.’

      And that’s it. That’s all she wrote.

      I cannot form more words or thoughts or objections. I vibrate against the window and against him and he holds me tight, kisses me until the wave has calmed. He knows what I need; he expresses that knowledge with every movement of his body and his mouth.

      I am afraid and yet I am fearless. I am a contradiction in his arms, against his wall, in his house.

      And then he stands.

      ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’