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Growling, he spins me to face the column, and I wonder if he's doing that so he'll see anyone approaching. He slides his hand under my dress, hiking it up. Warmth floods my cheeks and neck, and I melt into his caress. The knowledge that he's touching me so brazenly in the garden of a dinner party, where someone could see, causes my lust to reach an all-time high, and a moan escapes my lips.
This man… This man.
"Dirty girl," he whispers, his breath fanning my earlobe. "You like this, don't you?"
I respond, rocking my hips into his. I’d have to be dead not to enjoy the sweet torture as he touches my pussy, the tips of his fingers greedily parting the sleek heat of my folds.
"Don't you?" He nips my ear, demanding an answer.
Drunk on lust, I finally say, "Y-yes."
He slips two fingers inside my pussy as my reward.
"Fuck," I huff.
"Yes. Let's fuck. That's what you want, isn't it?" He adds one more digit to the naughty party and slams them all the way in. An intense shock of pleasure charges through me, and I moan. He doesn't let up, removing his fingers only to thrust them inside me again. Hard. Deep. "You're so goddamn wet. You want to be fucked here? You want me to come inside you, fill you up, while the party continues? You'll walk back in there like nothing happened while your pussy is full of my cum. Like a good girl." My body shakes as he continues the maddening rhythm. I'm so fucking close. "We’ll both know I fucked you hard, and you couldn't get enough," he says, his voice edgy, deep, and downright sexy. "Because you're a dirty girl."
To hear those words from his mouth does something to me.
Many things. It burns me up inside.
"Are you on birth control?"
"Yes," I say, referring to my implant. “I'm also clean." I know he's clean because I handle all his medical records.
"Me too. You know, I can't think of the last time I didn't wear a condom. With you, though, I want to go raw. Get you all wet and sticky with my cum."
I tilt my head from side to side, restless, but he pins me down with his mouth. He nips my neck, and zings of awareness charge through me from my overly sensitive scalp to my toes curling inside my high heels.
He intensifies the rhythm, finger fucking my pussy, stoking the heat in the pit of my stomach. How did we get here? How did my boss, whom I usually hate, touch me in a way that makes me feel like I'm a page full of bright colors, bold lines, and rich textures after being black and white my whole life?
He squeezes my clit, and damn, I know I'm too close now.
There's no turning back. I'm about to?—
My cellphone's climax-ruining ring startles me, and I almost jump from the ground.
I glance down at the device vibrating madly on the grass, my father's face lighting up the screen. Shit. He wouldn't call me for anything small when he knew I was working. I clear my throat. Well, I should be working. This feels nothing like work.
My clit still throbs as I disengage from Archer and bend to scoop up my phone, along with the other contents from the grass, which I stuff in my bag. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Ms. Hazel Dillon?"
My heart leaps to my throat. "Yes, what happened?"
"This is Nurse Amy from Dallas Memorial Hospital. I have your father here with me…"
9
Archer
"What is it?" I ask, composing myself. Fuck. What just happened? I was about to fuck her on Malcolm's property. At a dinner party.
Her cheeks are flushed, her hair disheveled. "I… I have to go. I'm sorry. My father is in the ER in a lot of pain."
My entire system goes on high alert as if I've dived into arctic Alaskan waters. "How did this happen?"
"He's having these bad pains in the upper left section of his abdomen. He didn't feel good enough to drive, so he took an Uber to the ER because he didn't want to bug me. He’s had a gallbladder issue before, but I’m worried since he also has heart disease."
