When Retta released another moan, this one a little more unbridled, he asked, “Do you want everyone to hear us? Is that your thing?”
She shook her head, delirious as she pressed the back of her wrapped hand against her mouth.
Watching the woman who was a fucking wet dream incarnate try to hold in her ecstasy was doing something to him.
While kissing the space between her breasts, he worked to pull her pants off her soft thighs.
Once bare on the table, he took a second to study her. Nipples slick from his tongue, red panties, and legs spread wide.
Her eyes were on him as he bent low and brushed his lips against her stomach before journeying down her leg.
He kissed her inner thigh, relishing the warmth of her skin. Determined to go slow, he lightly ran his fingers over the damp material that hid her pussy from his sight. However, her responsive inhale and attempts to scoot closer almost had him ripping the delicate fabric. He needed to get his mouth on her.
Hooking his fingers under the waistband, he moved to tug them off in one fell swoop, but a knock sounded at the door. “Duncan?”
Retta sat up so fast, almost taking out his head as she swung to close her legs and stand.
Duncan straightened from his stooped position, trying to get his heartbeat to level off and his dick to go down.
“Yup?” he called out, hoping his voice didn’t sound strained.
“Are you busy? I need to run over some things with you,” the person, one of the trainers, behind the door said.
He closed his eyes and swallowed the shout he wanted to release. “I’ll meet you in the staff room.”
Once the footsteps retreated, he turned to Retta who was already straightening her clothes.
“It’s a sign,” she whispered, hurriedly pulling up her pants. “We should stop trying to do this.”
He’d been sure not sleeping with her was a good idea, but things changed when clothes came off.
“Screw rules and hypothetical fake-dating manuals,” he said.
“Huh?”
Duncan came around to where she sat on the edge of the table, trampling on the documents strewn on the ground. He placed his hands on the desk on either side of her and said, “Who are we fooling?”
She frowned. “M-my family?”
“No, what I mean is we’re ridiculous for thinking this isn’t going to happen.” He leaned in close. “I want it. That pretty pussy of yours wants it. And when it happens, we’ll go slow and be as loud as we want.”
He watched her chest rise and fall, and he wasn’t sure how she’d respond.
“I look forward to it, then,” she said, kissing him and walking out the door.
ChapterTwelve
Retta saton the plush ottoman in a department store, watching Nia rapidly rifle through clothing racks. Her stylish friend would only pause long enough to pull out an item and study it before either returning it or throwing the clothing over her arm.
“Any day now, girl,” Kym said from her place next to Retta on the wide seat.
Nia looked at Kym. “Do you want her to look great or not?”
Kym lifted her hands in surrender, and their friend resumed her search. Retta solicited the most fashionable person she knew to find outfits for the engagement party as well as the wedding.
This errand wasn’t completely necessary, because Retta had a couple appropriate pieces in her closet. But they were the two outfits she wore to every fancy function. As a result, she’d worn both of them several times throughout her years with Chris, from office holiday parties to dinner with his parents. There was even photographic evidence.
If she was going through all the trouble to fake a relationship to attend her ex-boyfriend’s wedding, shouldn’t she fully commit to making a statement? To Retta that meant not showing up in a predictable dress her ex-boyfriend helped her into once upon a time.
