She returned her attention to the scone, shifting to her knees and scooting between my legs.Fuck me.Maybe this was a bad idea. Then, clutching her hands behind her back, she bent at the waist, biting off a bit of the scone. “If it falls,” I said, “Then you eat off the floor.”
I watched, aware of every shift of her weight from one knee to the other. Each time she wiggled her hips or shoulders or swiped her tongue out to clean the crumbs sticking to her glossed lips, my cock got harder. I closed my eyes, swallowing a groan as her head bobbed up and down over the scone, inches away from my tenting pants.
Reaching out, I brushed her fallen hair away from her face, my fingers skimming her neck as I flipped the curtain of siren red hair to her other shoulder. Her cheeks flushed at my touch and her neck tightened as she nibbled. She lifted her eyes, meeting mine, her face serious and heating to a delicious shade of pink that would have matched the shade of her ass after I spanked her.
She likes it.I swallowed hard, moving my fingers to her jaw and following the line of tension as she swallowed the bite of scone. Maybe she’s more like Holly than I thought. Yeah, she’s fighting this tooth and nail, but it’s only an hour in. We have a whole week. My doubt dissolved faster than an ice cube on the LA sidewalks.
Her lips were swollen and wet and she ran her tongue along them once more. It wasn’t even meant to be sexy—if anything, it was clumsy and she was trying to reach a crumb far off the corner of her mouth. I dragged my thumb across her jaw, collecting the crumb and held it out in front of her mouth, lifting my brow.
Her gaze shifted quickly between my legs where my cock was standing tall, tenting my dress pants with a vengeance. Practically saluting her for the good work she’d done. She darted her gaze away, the flush on her cheeks turning a deeper shade of mauve. Then, parting her lips, she took my thumb in her mouth, wrapping it around the soft pad and sucking the crumb off my flesh. Fuck me. Her tongue flicked over the top, scraping over the edge of my fingernail.
This time, there was no swallowing my satisfied groan. It rumbled out of my chest like a caged animal, crying for an escape. I wanted to kiss her; grab her by the back of the neck, pull her lips to mine and ravage her mouth until she couldn’t stand without my assistance. I wanted my tongue sliding between those ripe, wet lips of hers. My body slamming her back against the wall, while I plunged inside of her.
Shit. Only one hour together and I was already derailing into uncharted territories. This can’t happen. It is my responsibility to keep this tame. To not cross any lines. And to make matters worse, Marly was engaged. I had made a promise; not only to her, but to myself. No sex. I could not take advantage of a method actor researching a potential role. Just because she made me feel things I hadn’t experienced since Layla, didn’t mean it was excusable to act on those feelings.
She was halfway finished with the scone and I cleared my throat to get her attention. “Are you full?” I asked, my voice deeper than usual.
She nodded and I moved what was left of the scone to the side table. Tan crumbs sat like a Pollock painting against my gray dress pants and her eyes were fixed on my thigh.
I couldn’t resist. It was too good. She was too fucking sweet. And how much farther would she go? “You made a mess,” I said.
She didn’t remove her eyes from the crumbs.
“Do you have something to say to me?” I prodded.
She lifted her chin, meeting my eyes, reluctance twisting in her expression. “I’m… sorry?”
“You’re sorry,what?”
“Sir. I’m sorry, Sir?” She spat the words, doubt and frustration curling her mouth in a wry grin.
Yes. Fuck me, yes. “Is that a question?”
She heaved a sigh, her breasts straining with the tight breath against her button-down blouse. “No. I’m sorry, Sir.”
It was hard for her to say that, which only made the victory that much sweeter. Sexier. She shifted uncomfortably and I noticed the way she moved her weight back and forth on her knees.
“Do your knees hurt?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes,what?”
“Fucking hell,” she muttered.
Bending, I scooped my hand into her hair, squeezing, wrapping the strands around my fingers and gave a small tug. It shouldn’t have hurt. Or if it did, it was nothing compared to the spank earlier. “You don’t get to curse at me, Poppy. Now… yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. “My knees hurt. High school soccer injury.”
I released her hair, grabbing the pillow from behind my back and placed it on the ground. “Here,” I said gently. “Kneel on this.”
“Aren’t we… aren’t we done?”
I leaned down, ready to scoop my hand back into her hair as she quickly added, “Sir?”
“Idecide when we’re done. Now,” I glanced down at the crumbs on my pants. “Clean up your mess. With your tongue.”
I expected some resistance. A moment of hesitation. Anything. But she didn’t. She leaned down, running her tongue along the ironed crease of my pants, lapping up the crumbs with several strokes of her tongue.
