He pressed it against the glass, and then pulled back again, looking sheepish.
“What?” I said.
He mouthed the words and I heard him, albeit faintly, through the pane that separated us, “That glass is hot,” he said, grinning.
I licked my lips. “Want me to kiss it better?”
He made a pouty face and nodded.
I unlatched the window again.
“May I come in?” he said. A good portion of him was already inside the room, pointing at my upper body.
I grabbed him by his sturdy handle without even thinking about it, tugging at him tenderly. “Let me help you.”
He groaned and closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the window frame with both hands. “That feels good.”
I used my other hand to give his base and balls some feathery strokes as I tugged gently with the other hand. “I’ll kiss it better if you wanna come inside.”
He gripped the window frame tighter. “I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t enter the house. I’m not allowed.”
“Really?” Were we still playing this little game, pretending that he was the gardener? I looked at his face, at his half-closed eyes and the pained, hungry expression on his mouth. “You’re the gardener,” I said, stressing the word gardener. “You’re dirty, so maybe you should stay out there, on your ladder. If you come inside, you’ll probably make a big mess all over Mr. Thorne’s nice carpet.”
At the mention of Mr. Thorne, his equipment throbbed in my hand.
“I promise I’ll be good,” he said.
“Maybe you should stay out there,” I said. “Where you belong. Not in here, on Mr. Thorne’s nice Egyptian Cotton sheets.” He thrust his h*ps at me, his member pulsing back and forth in my hand, slick with the sweat from my excited palms. I paused for a moment and licked my hand, then returned it.
His hands were still gripping the window frame, his knuckles turning white. “This is dangerous,” he said.
“I’ll say.” I paused my handwork and removed my skirt. I took two steps back and buried one hand inside my pink panties, the other one near my mouth, so I could suck my thumb. “Too bad you can’t come into Mr. Thorne’s nice bedroom.”
He removed his hat and threw it far, into the room.
“Oops, I dropped my hat.”
I slipped out of my panties and tossed them on the pristine bed.
“You’ll have to come in and get it,” I said.
He fixed me with his fiery gaze. “You won’t tattle on me? You won’t tell … Grace?”
“I can keep a secret,” I said. “Can you?”
He pulled back from the window for a moment, and I feared he’d changed his mind, but he was just securing the ladder. He stepped into the room, and then, there he was.
We were in the same room together, and I was completely, utterly naked.
Nobody but Grace and Suzanne even knew I was there.
The man was taller than I’d thought. Even though I’d seen his clothes—assuming the man before me was indeed Mr. Thorne—he was so much bigger-than-life in person. I guessed that was what it took to be a billionaire. Or maybe the billions were what made you so big, so present.
Half of my mind believed he was the gardener, though. And I wanted him. Gardener or billionaire, I wanted him to take me for his own.
He crossed the room slowly and retrieved the hat.
I walked toward him, then changed direction, moving over to the bed.
He glanced up at the ceiling, at the mirror, and pointed to the sofa, which was now positioned under the mirror.
I moved over to the sofa and leaned back, presenting him with my pu**y.
Remembering what he’d said on the phone sex line the day before, I said, “I’m spreading my legs for you. I’m begging you for your tip. Please, can I have it? I need it.”
He raised his eyebrows and coughed in surprise.
Honestly, I was probably more surprised than he was. I’d had boyfriends try to get me to talk dirty to them, but I always got embarrassed. It seemed silly with those boys. But there, under that mirror, the words just flowed from my mouth. My folds were slick with desire for him, and when I went on, whimpering with begging sounds, I meant it. I completely, utterly meant every whimper.
The furniture I lay back on was a bit short for such purposes, but I didn’t care about comfort. I just wanted him inside me, pumping me. I would have taken his manhood in the back seat of a Volkswagen Beetle. I would have taken it in a phone booth. After the build-up over the previous two days, first hearing him from inside the closet, and then seeing him but being unable to touch him, in his office, I desperately needed satisfaction. And I needed it from him.
He pulled off his thin T-shirt, revealing a body way more toned than you’d expect on a business man. He must have taken conference calls on the treadmill, I figured. Or maybe he had a personal trainer. I hope it’s not a woman, I thought jealously.
He dropped the pants, kicked off his shoes, and removed his socks.
He didn’t climb on top of me on the sofa, like I was aching for him to, but he walked over and sat on his knees on the plush carpet next to me, leaning in for a kiss.
Of course! We were both completely naked, ready to be intimate, and yet, we hadn’t even kissed yet.
I reached out for him with my arms and pulled him to me as we kissed, deeply. His lips sucked at my lips, and his tongue caressed me without intruding. I imagined that strong tongue on other parts and shuddered in anticipation.
My cl*t was on fire with ecstasy, sparks shooting out everywhere from my mound, and I realized it was because his hand was there, stroking me. Softly, gently, and then with more urgency, thick fingers exploring and plunging in and out of me. Circling, maddeningly.
I cried out in pleasure, into his mouth, with his lips still encompassing mine.
His hand kept moving over my mound, back and forth through my soft, pink folds. I pulled my head back, interrupting his kiss, and also pushed his hand away from my crotch.
“Careful,” I said, breathlessly. “I’m about to go off, and I want you inside me when I do.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because once I start, I don’t stop.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I nodded my head and whimpered.
He glanced up at the mirror, then he forcefully shoved the small sofa, with me on it, three feet back.
He stretched out on the carpet, on his back, and stared up at the mirror, then over at me.
“Climb on board,” he said.
I looked at the bed in the corner.