Chapter 8: Nothing Billed

The penthouse door shut behind us, and Mason pushed me against it.

He kissed me hard, with one hand flat on the wood beside my head.

The other tugged the zip of my work jacket down.

"Where did you say it was?" I said against his mouth. "The desk?"

"Through there."

His study had a long dark desk under a window full of lake and city lights.

He lifted me onto it.

My clogs hit the floor, one and then the other, and he laughed under his breath, and it was the first time I had heard him laugh.

Then he pushed my jacket off my shoulders and my bra strap down with his teeth.

His mouth closed on my nipple and I grabbed the edge of the desk.

"Mason."

"Say it again."

"Mason."

He kissed down my stomach.

He unbuttoned my pants and drew them off me with my underwear.

He put his palms on my thighs and spread me open on his desk.

I was wet.

I had been wet since the elevator, and he looked at me, just looked, until I couldn't breathe.

"I said I'd make you say my name loud enough for the lobby," he said.

"The lobby's twenty-six floors down."

"Then I'll work harder."

He put his mouth on my pussy.

His tongue went slowly up the length of me, and then circled my clit, and I cried out and fell back on my elbows.

He took his time, and he didn't hurry.

His tongue flicked and pressed and flattened, and he slid two fingers inside me, curled them, and found the place that made my hips jump.

"There," I said. "Oh, God, there, don't stop."

"I'm not stopping."

"Mason, fuck."

He sucked my clit between his lips while his fingers fucked me, slow and deep.

I came with his name in my mouth, grinding against his face, my hands in his hair.