Page 58 of Not Mine to Rescue

Wombat

Honor’s home was a mix of perfectly curated color-coordinated neutrals and subtle accent colors. That was, until you reached her bedroom. Either she’d given up on styling it, or this was the real woman underneath the polish and the matching suit ensembles.

I had a feeling the real Honoria Ryder was a mess. Not in the “cling to your leg” crazy kind of mess, but the colorful, eclectic, multi-faceted, whole-human way. The antique dresser she owned took up almost the full width of the room. Flanking it were two bookshelves of brightly-colored romance novels.

I’d seen a few of those titles before. Some were pretty kinky.

There were two stacked on the little table by her reading chair. I didn’t know tiny cartoon Vikings were virile, let alone very much so.

Another thing that struck me was the way she cared for Molly.

There was a dog bed on every level of the house. Two in the main living area. One next to her desk and the wall of legal books that comprised her home office. Another conveniently tucked in the formal living room as if even there she had to carve a safe space for her dog. I’d bet there were two more on the patio and deck outside.

Which told me another thing. Honor was lonely.

That meant I should slow down, let her savor our tryst. Give her the three plus orgasms I’d promised, and take plenty of time between to show her how much fun it was to have someone in her space who didn’t immediately drool on her comforters. I broke the kiss with a breath and sipped at her lips so she would know I wasn’t stopping.

The contact slowed and her eyes fluttered open.

Her eyes were like a summer night, but better. As if I was truly seeing the depth and breadth of the cosmos, but in one vast universe solely comprised of emotions. Those depths held secrets I’d never understand.

“Hi.” That was not my most eloquent moment. But putting what I felt into words was impossible.

Her smile was shy. “Hey.”

A blink and reality rushed back. This was the club’s lawyer. A woman so far out of my league I’d never span the distance. I was going to lose her.

Funny how I was suddenly the one ready to cling to her leg.

But I had some pride, and a bit of common sense. I brushed her hair back and slipped my hand under it. The back of Honor’s neck was a graceful arch and it fit in my palm perfectly. I tightened my grip for a moment.

She moaned.

Screw taking it slow. I dove back to kiss her so deeply I almost forgot how to breathe. Her curves and her skin were an addiction. Better than any drug, taking me higher with each piece of loosened clothing, and each time I touched my lips to hers it was magical.

And god, she fit me. There was no straining to meet her mouth, almost no effort to notch the bulge in my jeans against that soft secret triangle of her panties and thighs. Our bare chests brushed with perfect alignment where her nipples dragged across mine.

Her hands roamed down my ribs to my belt. By touch alone, she unbuckled my pants and tugged them open.

My cock strained to break free of the boxers I wore.

Her fingers brushed along the column and stilled. Then, she turned her hand and gripped me through the fabric. As she did, she gasped into my mouth. “I need this.”

With more luck than dexterity, I tugged my wallet out and found the condom inside. Normally, I carried them in a hard-shell case, but that was sitting on my nightstand at home.

I maneuvered Honor to the bed and lifted her against me.

Holy hell, that was better than making out. Her cunt aligned against my almost free dick and she’d soaked through her underwear. Instead of dropping her onto the mattress, I tightened my grip and let her squirm against me as her arms and legs wrapped around me.

Her ankles locked behind my ass and I set the condom on the nightstand.

Molly and Dumb Ass retreated to the dog bed halfway across the room.

Smart.

It was almost a crime to lower her to the mattress because that meant my dick lost contact with her amazing pussy.

But her long legs were like silk under my hands.