“I love it. Especially old buildings like this. You get such a sense of the history, I love imagining all the people who’ve been here before, what they did. All the stories must be incredible…” I trail off, remembering those days admiring architecture with my dad and trying not to. Because right now, I just want to enjoy this.
Andrew moves closer. Wordlessly, he takes my jacket and clutch, and sets them on an antique side table that probably cost more than my car.
“Are you staying here long?” I blurt again, unnerved by the heat in his eyes. “If you like classic architecture, there are a bunch of places in town you could—”
He silences me with a kiss, slow and hot.
He steps into me, his mouth finding the curve of my neck. I run my hands up his arms, over the bulge of biceps to the strong line of his shoulders. He drops small kisses along the length of my throat. Grasping the lapel of his suit coat, I pull it over his shoulders and down. His arms drop to shed the garment, his hands immediately coming back to me, cupping the back of my head in one hand, his other arm going around my waist.
I thread my fingers into his hair as his lips find my earlobe. With a gasp, I sink into the pleasure of him nipping at the tender flesh. His hair is thick and silky, sliding between my fingers before I grab light handfuls.
He takes a step forward, urging me back and we start a fluid dance, him walking me backward as his lips find mine again, and I fumble for the buttons on his shirt. I can barely breathe through the wicked assault of his kiss. Consumed by the heat of his mouth, I feel as if I’m falling, but Andrew holds me tightly.
Suddenly, he breaks away, and spins me to face away from him as he steps up close behind me. The hard ridge of his erection presses into my ass, making me gasp. I sink back against him as his hands rove over my stomach and chest, teasing at the stiff peaks of my nipples.
Instinctively, I press back, wanting more of that long, hard length against me. A low growl in my ear, a word, maybe. I can’t think straight. His hand moves over my throat, closing around it in a light caress. My pussy throbs at this dominant move and I resist the urge to clench my legs, knowing it will only make the need worse.
He kisses behind my ear. “This is when you tell me you don’t do this sort of thing.”
I can’t help but smile. I don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I don’t… often.”
He pinches my nipple through the silky fabric of my dress. Sensation flares to life. His thumb is caressing my chin and jaw, tracing the curve of my mouth, and I want so badly to turn around. I don’t try, because the blend of his hardness against my curves is too perfect.
“You know,” I whisper, desperate to hang onto some thread of control. “This is when you tell me no one is waiting at home for you.”
“No one is ever waiting for me.”
There’s a hollow note in his voice that makes me want to turn, to kiss his lips again, but Andrew keeps me pinned against him. I feel a knot in my chest. I don’t want to know any more, though the urge to soothe him makes me want to touch his face, gently run my palm down his jaw. Instead, I, slide my hands down his thighs, the smooth rustle of expensive fabric teasing my touch as I reach back between us for his hard cock. I find the bulge and gently stroke it with my knuckles. He grinds against me, and the intimate warmth of him draws a primal need from me, so strong, so demanding that my knees go weak.
The other woman that lives inside me, the one who fantasizes about doing wicked things on elegant sheets, is taking over.
“Andrew.” I whisper his name, running my palm down the length of his cock—eager to rip open his pants and take him in my hand. I attempt to turn, but he stops me, walking me forward a few steps until my hands press against the glass of the floor to ceiling windows. Lights from the skyline sparkle, little square windows from the skyscrapers around us staring like bright, voyeuristic eyes.