Page 19 of The Trouble with Flings

As their shock and excitement bubble over, Fitz’s arm circles my waist, and we head out to enjoy our much-anticipated private party.

Chapter Six

Fitz

The second the suite door closes, our mouths collide. Our kisses are fierce and urgent, our gropes greedily rushing to claim the ground we’ve been circling all night. It would be so easy to give in to the passion, to strip Jennifer bare and fuck her right here against the door until we’re both too spent to breathe. But she got under my skin months ago and became the woman I compare all others to. Tonight I intend to return the favor by ruining her for every other man, so she never questions the memory of us again.

When she goes for my cock, I catch her wrist. Challenge flares in her eyes, and she lifts her chin. She can’t fight that reflex, and I fucking love that about her.

“Not yet,” I say low enough that she has to focus on me instead of the fear of losing control. “I’ve had hours to think about what I’m going to do to this mouth.” I press my hand to her cheek and brush my thumb over her lower lip. “What you want me to do to it.”

“I’m fully capable of telling you what I want.” Her voice is impressively steady, but the pulse in her wrist is not steady at all.

“And you will,” I promise. “You’ve been waiting all night for this, too. We’re not rushing through it.” I brush a strand of hair from her shoulder. “Trust me, Jennifer. I know what you need, and right now, it’s to watch me admire you.”

My gaze dips to her mouth, drinking in the tempting bow of her lips. I linger on them until she breathes a little harder. She struggles to free her wrist, but I hold it tight, dragging my gaze slowly down her neck and chest, taking in the rise and fall of her breasts.

“So beautiful,” I whisper as I trace the skin along her plunging neckline to the dip between her breasts. Her nipples rise to greet me, poking against the thin material of her dress. “Thinking about how much you like my mouth on your tits?”

Her breath catches. Just barely. Just enough. “Maybe.”

“I think you are.” I brush my fingers over one taut peak. “I think you remember my teeth on your nipples.” She shudders beneath my touch. “I remember how exquisite you were when you were lying naked in my bed, your pussy dripping for me.”

She inhales shakily, and her eyes close.

“Open your eyes, Jennifer.” When she does, I say, “There’s my girl,” giving her just enough to want more, and I continue drinking in the curve of her waist and hips. I slide my hand up her thigh, watching her reaction. Lust simmers in her eyes as my hand moves beneath her dress. My fingers glide along her inner thigh, stopping short of her panties, and heat rises on her cheeks.

“How badly did you want me to touch you at the table tonight?”

“As badly as you wanted to touch me,” she counters, but her voice is breathier, the challenge barely there.

“I wanted to make you come right there in front of everyone. To stake my claim, if only for the week. To give your friends a taste of what only you will be enjoying tonight.”

A needy sound falls from her lips. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I promised never to embarrass you.” I lean in, whispering, “One day, when you’re ready, and the time is right, I’m going to make you come in public, but only you and I will be aware it’s happening.”

She grabs my shirt with her free hand, as if she needs it to remain upright, despite the door behind her, and fuck if that doesn’t turn me on even more.

“Don’t worry, wild girl. I’m going to fulfill all your fantasies.” I cup her pussy, pressing my fingers to her damp panties, and she inhales sharply. “Mm. How long have you been wet for me?” I see a struggle in her eyes and say, “The truth, Jennifer.”

“Since…the blackjack table.” Her voice is shaky, the hunger in it undeniable.

I reward her with a punishingly intense kiss, teasing her through her panties. I feel her tensing up, trying to hold on to her control and losing the battle.

“Tell me to stop,” I suggest, handing her the control she thinks she wants.

She doesn’t say a word, just pants against my lips. She’s so fucking strong and unequivocally feminine, which makes the trust she’s handing me even more intoxicating.

Jennifer needs the upper hand the way most people need oxygen. She needs to win every challenge. And she does, effortlessly and brilliantly, with that sharp mind and sharper mouth, and I find it breathtaking every single time. But underneath all that beautiful armor is a woman who, from the little she’s said, has been disappointed by every man she’s dated and is exhausted from holding the reins. A woman who desperately needs to hand the reins to someone she trusts just to allow herself to fully breathe.

I’m going to be that man for her, and so much more.

I release her wrist, slide my hand up her arm, and settle it at the back of her neck. “Give me your mouth,” I say, knowing there’s still a chance she’ll challenge me.

But she doesn’t. She presses those eager lips to mine, letting me take my fill. I don’t hold back, kissing her the way she needs to be kissed, thoroughly, passionately, and demandingly. I feel her standing on the edge of surrender, holding on to me, kissing me with fervor, but still holding back.

I break the kiss long enough to whisper, “You’re safe with me, wild girl.” I reclaim her mouth, kissing her deeper. She makes a soft, needy sound, her grip on me loosening, her body melting into me, as that wall comes down brick by brick.