Page 72 of The Au Pair Affair

She gave him a slow wink. “Sorry, sailor.”

Expression rife with lust, he shook his head and tugged the towel open, exposing her breasts. He made a low, stifled sound, leaning down to explore them with a long look, his mouth falling open, as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him. It took him several moments to look his fill, before letting go of the towel and slamming both hands onto the roof of the SUV, dropping his head forward as if gathering his control.

Maybe a few weeks ago, that kind of animalistic response would have scared her, but not with Burgess. He allowed her to feel safe while also vulnerable to her body’s needs and wants. And so she didn’t cover herself or feel an ounce of reservation. No, she leaned back and shook her breasts for him, excited by the way he started to pant, his right hand dropping, hesitating against the zipper of his jeans, before tearing it down and reaching inside.

Fisting himself.

Groaning up at the moon.

Beginning to stroke.

“I wouldn’t do this unless it was necessary,” he said, the words catching on rough inhales, grunts as his hand moved faster. Faster. “But it’s either fuck myself or fuck you before we have an understanding, so keep shaking them.”

It was like a dream, this scandalous moment in the pitch black,bouncing her breasts for her boss while he masturbated in his jeans, and she never wanted it to end. Her body had gone from cold to hot so fast, she was feverish, the flesh between her legs soaking wet—and not from swimming. From the continual seizing of her intimate muscles, the appeal of this giant man who made her feel naughty and cherished, in the space of one breath. She’d forced this tightly controlled man to relieve himself in front of her and the thrill was like a chemical eruption going off inside of her, wrecking her, too. Not just Burgess.

They never broke eye contact as her hand found its way beneath the bottom of the towel, her moan swallowed up by the nighttime sounds and Burgess’s grunts, fingers sliding through that moist, swollen part of her, refusing to tease herself for even a second, finding her clit instead and petting up, down, up down, then breaking into a firm rub of the spot, her mouth parting on gasp after gasp.

“You want to finger yourself, gorgeous, go ahead. But don’t you dare let me see that pussy or I’ll have to add ten more locks to your bedroom door.”

“You could still break the door down,” she managed, though her back teeth were glued together. “Couldn’t you?”

“Yeah. I could.” His hips moved, wedging between her knees, the muscle of his right arm flexing in the moonlight as he worked, worked, veins beating in his neck and he leaned down, pressing their foreheads together, his hot breaths battering her lips. “But I want you to unlock it for me, Tallulah. Open it and let me in.”

Pressure landed on her chest. Good or bad, she couldn’t tell, only that it was a lot. It called for a big decision when her head was in the clouds, propelled upward by arousal so potent she could hardly get a decent breath. “Open it?” She licked at his mouth, doing it a second time when he bared his teeth and growled. “Like this?”

She opened her thighs and drew back the towel, watching his eyes go molten as she sank two fingers inside of herself, pressed deep and lifted herself on top of those digits, grinding her hips, riding them with a whine of his name, her orgasm cresting and delivering.

“Burgess,” she gasped.

“Fucking . . .fuck!” Burgess roared.

His body lurched forward, his hand moving in disjointed jerks, those huge hips shoving her legs wider, so wide, while her bare sex was bathed in his come, rope after rope of wet warmth landing on her there while he panted brokenly into her neck.

“More,” she whispered, licking the side of his face. “Cover me in it.”

“We both want more,” he said, turning his head so he could speak right on top of her mouth. “You ready to admit it’s the same type of more?”

That pressure returned to her chest, the weight of indecision. “Oh. I...”

Seconds passed and she couldn’t fill them.

“Uh-huh.” He looked her right in the eye while reaching down to grip her sex in a big hand. “When you’re ready to call me your man, I’m going to spit on this hot little cunt and call it mine before I fuck it. Go ahead. Lie and tell me you don’t want that.”

Yearning like she’d never experienced in her life powered through her system. It was unexpected and consuming, cleanly knocking the wind out of her. The chance that she might go without his full claim caused her stomach to shrink in on itself. “Do it,” she sobbed.

“When you’re mine.” Blue eyes blazed, before he slammed his lids shut. “For now, I want you to agree to come to my game. It’s not a lot to ask. I want to look into the stands and know you’re there because of me.”

“Fine. I’ll go. I’ll go. Just spit on me—”

“Soon.”

Tallulah made a sound of protest as Burgess drew himself up and off her, stumbling back a little while refastening his jeans, his forehead covered in sweat. They retreated to their corners for several minutes to recover from what had started as playful, but turned into something bigger. Something deeper, more permanent.

A pond she didn’t know if she was ready to wade into.

Chapter Eighteen

Oh. The energy in the arena was wild. These people wereenthusiastic.

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