Page 93 of Elevator Pitch

“I showed you mine, now show me yours,” I flirt.

Ross chuckles, breaking our little bubble of breathy silence. Then, he’s loosening his belt buckle and lowering his zipper, wrestling his pants and boxer briefs down enough to release what’s long and hard, and mine. I don’t want to share this man with anyone.

With his palm fisted around himself, he leans forward and swipes the tip through my essence.

I said no sex, yet Ross is so close, so tempting and hard. I did that to him. “We’re a little old for just the tip,” I tease, using humor to fight what I’m feeling. How I want to renege on my own injunction. I want to beg him to fill me up. To fit me.

Instead, I lower my leg and sit upright as best I can, forcing Ross back.

“Stand up.” I demand, my tone is unfamiliar, commanding and powerful.

Ross and I meet eyes before he slowly rises to his full height. As he stands, I grip his pants and underwear and lower them to his thighs, then take over clutching his thick shaft.

“An amendment to question two.” I stroke my fist down his length then upward to slide my thumb over the seeping slit. “How does this feel?”

“Like fucking heaven.” His hips rock forward as I tug on him. His gaze aimed at where I’m stroking him.

I lean forward and swipe my tongue over the crown. Ross hisses.

“A queen, sweetheart.” His voice strains. “You literally hold me in the palm of your hand. You own me.”

I like the sound of that a little too much, and straightening the invisible crown on my head, I use the power he mentions to make him weak. I open my mouth and suck him inward, lapping at his length like I’m on a mission. He made me lose control when we were on the phone the other night. I want him to lose control as he stands before me.

“Feels so good,” he hums. “Missed you so much.”

Within seconds, one of his large hands is holding the back of my head and his hips gently surge forward. I slurp and lick like I can’t get enough of him, allowing the sounds of my mouth around him to fill the room.

“Gonna come, sweetheart.” It isn’t so much a warning as a simple statement. He’s nearing the end of his resolve. And with a final jolt that brings tears to my eyes, he spills down my throat.

When I pull back, releasing him with a lazy pop, Ross tips up my chin so I look at him. His thumb swipes across my lip, capturing a small droplet, and my tongue instinctively darts out for a final lick, not wanting a single drop of him wasted. Capturing his thumb, I suck it and he looks pleased, proud even. His eyes heat, his nostrils flare and his jaw tenses from our erotic position.

“Such a good girl.” Ross winks.

For half a second, I understand the dominant-submissive lifestyle. Ross looks so content and sated. And I gobble up the praise kink.

Releasing his thumb, I smile up at him. “Hey, Ross Davis. Want to sleep with me?”

Asking is a risk, my playful tone a disguise for the overwhelming feelings I have for this man. How I want to please him. How I want to keep him. How I want him to truly be mine.

Ross chuckles, breaking through the intensity of the moment. “Verona Huxley, I thought you’d never ask.” He bends, placing his hands on the armrests to cage me in and leans in, kissing me like we didn’t just have our mouths on other body parts.

Like my invitation to spend the night was greater than the sum of everything else we just did.

Chapter 30

[Vee]

I wake from the sudden click of my front door closing. Swiftly, I shift my head on the pillow. Ross is still beside me, snuggled up close to my side. His arm drapes over my middle as I lie partially on my back, the other part of me resting against him.

Movement in my kitchen which is just outside my bedroom door snags my attention.

“Ross,” I whisper-hush. “I think one of my girls is home.”

Ross leans into me, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. We did not have sex last night. Not the conventional kind, but clearly the oral variety.

After our moment in my living room, we came to my bedroom where we shyly watched one another undress. Ross took care in removing his dress shirt and folding his slacks over a hanger I offered him. I had trouble with the zipper on the back of my dress and he helped me lower it, reminding me of our first encounter. This time, his knuckles slid down my spine after the zipper was separated.

“I love your back.”