“Fuck, Eloise.”
I whimper when his hands and mouth leave my skin.
I feel him step back, and I start to turn to find out why he’s stopping, but his hands grip my hips so I stay in place. “Stay right there for a second. Your ass in this thong… Jesus. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
How long have I yearned to hear a man devour my body with his words? For him to tell me how hot I get him, how he can barely control himself, and the restraint is killing him? I’ve never had a man talk to me like this.
“Can I turn around now?” I’m not asking because I’m embarrassed for him to see my body, because I’m not. He’s made it more than clear that he likes what he sees. But I want to see him now.
His hands leave my hips, and I circle around. If hearing his words of desire wasn’t already a major turn-on, watching his gaze rake over my body while I stand there wearing only a strapless bra, panties, and heels makes my core clench with need.
He steps back, resting his ass on the desk and biting the pad of his thumb. “Take off the bra.”
I reach around and unhook my bra, holding the cups with my other hand to keep it in place. “I think you need to take something off now.”
His flirty smile creases his cheeks, and he sheds his jacket, tossing it on the chair in the corner. I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows.
“Not enough, huh?” He unbuttons his shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. “I get it. You’ve wanted to see me for a long time too.”
I pretend to hate his cocky demeanor when, in reality, I love it.
He pulls his shirt from his pants and strips it off his chest. I’ve seen Conor without his shirt, but knowing that tonight I’ll be able to run my fingers down the peaks and valleys of his chest and abs, sprinkle kisses along his bare skin—it steals my breath.
“Your turn.” He lifts his chin at me.
I release my bra, and it falls to the floor.
Conor groans. “Perfect. I knew it.” He’s whispering more to himself than me, I think.
My body heats with what I’m sure is a blush over every inch of bared flesh. I nod toward his lower half, and his hands manipulate the belt, sliding it out of the loops, tossing it to join his shirt on the chair.
“Pants too.”
He toes out of his shoes. “So eager to see my cock.” There’s that cocky grin again.
I don’t respond, and he doesn’t wait for an answer before he strips off his pants and throws them toward the chair, but he misses, and they fall to the floor.
His erection presses obscenely against his black boxer briefs, and I find that I can’t turn away. My gaze is too greedy.
After shedding his socks, he pushes off the desk and closes the gap between us. “How have I been able to control myself until right now?”
His fingers hook into the sides of my thong, and he lowers to his knees in front of me, staring up at me. He leans into the apex of my thighs and breathes in my scent while his finger runs along the damp silk fabric, and he hums with appreciation.
“Conor.” I’m nearly breathless now that the time has come.
“I know.” Inch by inch, he lowers my thong down my legs, his gaze not chasing the fabric, but remaining on the most intimate part of me. “Finally.”
His vision draws away to get the flimsy fabric over my heels. I step out of them, and he throws them over with his pile of clothes. Then his palm lands on my calf, and his other hand slips off my heel. He does the same with the other one.
His palms slide up the outsides of my legs, and he blows a breath of air on my core before he places a sweet kiss on the top of my mound and stands.
“Get on the bed,” he whispers as if someone might overhear us.
I step back until I feel the edge of the mattress against the backs of my thighs. My ass falls to the soft mattress, and again, Conor goes to his knees, his hands wrapping around my legs to grip my ass, pulling my pussy to his face.
“I need to taste you.” His finger runs down the length of my opening, and he slides his finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste of me.
I’m not sure what sound slips out of me, but Conor’s wicked grin says he’s enjoying my reaction.