Page 5 of Highest Bid

He squeezed his eyes closed for a second, his cheekbones stark against the ridiculously long sweep of his black lashes. “Dear God, am I that transparent?” he growled.

She shook her head. “No.” All she knew for sure was his love of beautiful women. “The auction was my last-ditch attempt to finally get you to notice me.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed you, Layla. Just...not quite like this.” He shook his head. “I’ve made good use of my imagination, but nothing prepared me for the vision of you up on stage.”

Galan wasn’t big on words; he’d never needed small talk to get the women. It was what made his words even more special. His praise stimulated the arid emptiness within, flooded her with undeniable relief and delight.

He shook his head. “To think you’ve hidden such perfection behind our men’s T-shirt uniform.”

She arched against him, needing to be closer, needing even more to hear his true feelings. “You’d rather I parade around in scanty negligee like the rest of your female staff?”

He brushed his thumbs over her pasties, her nipples pebbling beneath. “I’m no prude, Layla, but I really don’t want to share you with anyone else.” His voice deepened. “And if that makes me the world’s biggest hypocrite, then so be it.”

She exhaled slowly. No excuses, no pretense. If she wasn’t already convinced she wanted him, there wasn’t a single doubt now. She craved the very air he breathed, her whole body drawn to him, needing him.

That there was a desperate kind of wonder in his face, his body straining toward hers, as his willpower slowly, inexorably slipped, only intensified her craving.

How many nights had she dreamed about him? How many times had she sensed his presence even before he’d made himself known? And how often had she ached with repressed needs while burning with envy for the latest woman he took to bed?

She’d come to resent her self-doubts right along with her wardrobe choices. She wanted to break free, needed to do something, anything, to create a bang. Her mouth dried. The auction had proven to be the perfect risk-taking exercise.

With a barely stifled groan, he cupped her breasts with his hands, weighing their generous weight in his palms. “It’s like your tits were made just for me.”

A smile curled her lips. No more second-guessing, no more doubts. This night was hers to savor before reality intruded. It wouldn’t be easy getting him to admit they had a future longer than a one-night stand. “You do have big hands.”

The sound from his throat was something between a chuckle and a growl when he kissed her breasts again, then moved lower. He pressed his open mouth to her flat belly, his tongue dipping into her navel, swirling and thrusting.

Electric shivers raced through her even before he lifted his head and murmured, “Just so you know...I’m big everywhere.”

If she’d been able to muster some kind of scathing rebuke, she would have. Except her throat was too thick, and words were futile when there was no denying reality. She’d felt the press of his huge arousal and knew he wasn’t lying.

With a smile, he dropped to his knees and dipped his head even lower, before he licked hard, right along the fabric of her already damp thong.

She jerked and threaded her fingers into the dark sable strands of his hair, while her clit fizzed and throbbed, and her moan was trapped somewhere deep inside her throat. His tongue swept a second time, and she tugged hard at his hair, already halfway to orgasm.

“My little firecracker,” he said thickly. “How didn’t I realize sooner?”

Layla inhaled sharply, her fingers digging almost cruelly into his scalp. He laughed, as though the pain perfectly matched his mood, before he ripped apart the fabric of her thong with an ease that told her he’d done it a few too many times before.

A hot flush of jealousy seared through her. But when he spread her outer labia and dipped his head, his tongue swiping directly over her clit, the next flash of heat had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with sweet, sweet pleasure.

“Heaven,” he muttered thickly, laving her flesh again and again, until her legs were jelly and she was seconds away from a nuclear implosion. He continued licking as he slid one of his fingers deep inside her. “So tight, yet you’re already slick and ready for me.”

She’d only been with a handful of men. The experiences hadn’t been anywhere near earth-shattering. This was everything she’d hoped for and more. She was beyond self-consciousness, beyond anything but pushing her pussy against his tongue, his exploring finger, and hoping for some relief to the ache building within. Then he drew her plump bud into his mouth and sucked hard.

Holy shit.

Layla closed her eyes as starbursts exploded inside her head, the orgasm ripping through her and pushing her into some kind of otherworld, before she slowly returned to earth.

Galan was having none of it. He jolted her back to nirvana as he continued working her with his lips, his tongue, and his hand. But, this time, she forced her eyes open, knowing she wanted to etch the image of his dark head between her legs.

Only once her little quivering aftershocks had subsided did he push back to his feet and tower over her. She held on to his arm as dizziness assailed her. The orgasm had been a powerful attack to her senses.

His eyes swept over her. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” she croaked.

His laugh filled the elevator. Shit, they were still in the elevator, she realized distantly.

---