His blue eyes twinkle with a lusty mischief. “Then I’ll lock you in the suite.”
“What exactly will that achieve?”
“I have no idea, but the thought of you being locked in here all day is giving my cock ideas.”
I press the button on the machine and lean on the island, my arms squeezing my breasts together. His gaze flicks from them to my mouth, then to my eyes.
“And you can tell your cock its ideas are completely useless considering it’ll be with you in a meeting all day. You can lock me in this suite, Mr. Stone, but if any orgasms happen, you won’t be a participant. They’ll be of my own making.”
The mischief dissipates from his stare, morphing into a dark heat that sends shivers through my body. “Of your own making?”
I dip my finger into the sugar pot and lick it off. “I’m quite adept at providing my own orgasms. I’ve done it plenty of times. I know all the right spots.”
He crosses the room in a few quick strides. He flattens his hands against the counter and leans forward until we’re barely a breath apart. “Let’s get something clear, Dayton,” he rasps. “If anyone makes you come, it’ll be me. And if I decide you can do it yourself, you’ll be doing it while I watch you.”
The idea of his eyes fixed on me while I touch myself makes me ache.
“Are we clear?”
I lick my lips.
“I said,” he leans in closer, his lips moving against mine as he speaks. “Are we clear?”
“Still a little murky.”
His fingers curl around my neck and he pulls my face to his. He kisses me slowly. Deeply. Intensely. A ball of need coils low in my stomach, tightening until it’s at the very brink of exploding. It hovers there, growing as Aaron’s kiss teases and taunts me.
He pulls away briefly before returning to my mouth and drops a long, lingering kiss there. “My coffee.”
I grab the side of the counter until my woozy, heady feeling from him passes. Holy shit, the man can kiss. The tongue strokes, the pressure, the twitch of his fingers on your skin…
“Is apparently yours.” He shoves his jacket on and pockets his phone. “You,” he murmurs, rounding the island and cupping my chin, “have distracted me, and now I’m going to be late.”
“Better late than never.”
“I told you, you’re my biggest temptation.” One more kiss. “There’s a car waiting for you downstairs when you want it. Just call the concierge and they’ll bring it round.”
“Why on Earth do I want a car?” I frown, watching him cross to the door.
“I’m not locking you in here. Not today,” he adds with a wicked grin. “Go and explore. You have the whole day to yourself.”
“I don’t want it,” I respond. “The car. How can I explore if I’m stuck inside a fancy ass car?”
“You have a point. By the way, I thought you’d say that, so I programmed the concierge’s number into your cell in case you get lost. He’ll arranged for you to be picked up wherever you are.”
“In case I get lost?” I raise an eyebrow.
He winks. “Have fun, Bambi. Oh, and keep your eyes to yourself. I know how you like concierges.”
“Gosh, no concierge, no touching myself… Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes. Me. Tonight.”
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies - usually wine - and writes books.
Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love.
She likes to be busy - unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.
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