Shenanigans (Pretense and Promises Book 2) Page 12

  He definitely felt it the same way she did.

  Morgan felt a vice grip her stomach and twist it, sending flurries of moths through her bloodstream. Most people anticipate the first kiss, but Morgan dreaded it. Yes, they’d kissed earlier that day, but it had been bullshit. This would be the real first one. And there was so much emphasis and importance placed upon the first one—how perfect it had to be, how memorable. And she had a list a mile wide of what made a kiss good. The lips couldn’t be desert dry, but she didn’t like slobbering, either. And passion was important, but the first kiss, while it didn’t have to be chaste, shouldn’t be a guy’s tongue thrust straight down her throat, raping her mouth. She liked finesse, and it was all about timing.

  And seeing Conor through his classmates’ eyes—the nerd gone good—made her a little skeptical. But it was happening, and there was no stopping it. His mouth approached hers, full speed ahead.

  His lower lip gently caressed hers. Ah…a good first step. Then he slowly brought both lips in contact with hers, but there was nothing overbearing about it—it was teasing and playful, exactly what it needed to be. As Morgan’s toes curled in her sky-high shoes, she dropped her clutch purse and touched his chest with her hands. The mouth-to-mouth contact with Conor was heady, and so she needed to touch something with her fingertips to help ground herself.

  As she parted her lips, Conor took the cue and slid his tongue in. Gone was her anxiety about shitty smooching, replaced by the beauty of the moment. Later on, she would declare the kiss as close to perfection as it could have been.

  But she was breathless.

  Batting her eyelashes, she tried to bring herself out of the trance she was in. Conor’s irises seemed to take over his eyes, making them look even darker than they already were, and the sight of him made her feel tense from head to toe. She was now ready for whatever the evening would bring.

  Conor had a freaked out look in his eyes, as if he felt like he’d overstepped his bounds. Before he got any bright ideas, Morgan took matters into her own hands—literally. She slid both of them up his chest before winding her right hand around his neck and then splaying her fingers to drive them into his thick, gorgeous brown hair. “Morgan—” She interrupted him by initiating a kiss of her own.

  He willingly participated but then said, “Morgan, we can’t.”

  Bullshit. She was ready. This man had passed the kissing test, so she knew he’d probably nail the entire act—and she needed to know now. “Why not? It’s not like we work for a corporation that has a fraternization policy. You’re not going to fire us for behaving contrary to an employee manual.” He frowned and opened his mouth to talk, but she was on a roll. “We’re already pretending to be engaged and—”

  Conor cut her off again with another kiss.

  Another delicious, toe-curling, hair-raising, pussy-clenching kiss.

  When he finished, he pulled away just enough that Morgan had to open her eyes. “So?”

  Conor’s face turned up in a lopsided grin. “I can’t argue that logic.” And then he buried her in another kiss.

  This was for real. It was happening. If Morgan allowed herself to stop and think about what was really going on, she would have applied the brakes—because she wasn’t kissing just any guy. This was her boss. There would be consequences.

  But her flesh was weak…and craving. And Conor kissed like Casanova.

  Well, there was no sense prolonging the proceedings. When Morgan was turned on, she didn’t need much foreplay, and right now every nerve tuned into the man raising her blood pressure, tightening her every muscle. Morgan moved her hands to his chest again and let her fingers get to work, beginning to work the buttons on his tux where he’d left off after removing his bowtie. Each prolonged, increasingly urgent kiss Conor delivered made her blood swirl that much more, made her need him.

  Soon, the shirt was unbuttoned, pulled from his waistband and cummerbund, and she allowed her fingers to play on his bare flesh.

  Oh, my God. This is really happening.

  As she wound her hands around to his back, determined to figure out how the cummerbund worked, he distracted her by moving his lips down to her neck, pulling the strap off her shoulder. Her muscles grew taut again and she bit her lip as her fingers curled against his back, gripping the cummerbund while avoiding scratching his flesh. But he took over and removed it before she had to keep feeling around futilely.

  If any of Conor’s classmates had observed the fervor with which they attacked each other and explored one another’s bodies, they would have known immediately that they were newly impassioned.

  Conor might have been an expert with numbers, but he was no slouch with his tongue, either. Even though they’d had one practice kiss for show before, it couldn’t compare to this one. This time, Conor’s lips firmly pressed against hers, passionate and desperate. Morgan could feel that through his lips and the way his tongue collided with hers. She didn’t want to wait for what would come next, even though the inevitable outcome lay ahead, closer and surer than the sunrise. For a brief moment, she considered putting this off because the timing felt wrong, but she knew if they walked away now, this might never happen. Why? Because, in the back of her mind, she knew this idea sucked—and Conor would agree if she asked him.

  Worst. Idea. Ever.

  But she didn’t care as her fingers tickled his back in exploration. She’d spent all day long seeing Conor through the eyes of Raquel, someone who really didn’t care about who him yet who remarked on his incredible sexiness, and it caused Morgan to appreciate that quality. Yes, a long time ago, she’d crushed on him but in the most innocent of ways.

  She couldn’t help herself anymore. She had to have this man, and it didn’t matter that he signed her paychecks. Now, she knew he reciprocated her feelings. What would happen tomorrow made no difference. Morgan’s heart and her tingling, begging nerves overruled all those thoughts in her head.

  As Conor’s lips continued assaulting hers, she moved her hands around to his belly before running them up his chest. Conor held her at the small of her back, letting her focus on feeling his flesh as she began exploring him, returning his kisses with even more fervor than before. His mouth tasted sweet, the remnants of wine lingering, and yet there was a masculine quality to it Morgan couldn’t quite identify. Already, she knew she’d find herself addicted to him if she wasn’t careful.

  Conor’s lips broke with hers and he began kissing the side of her neck, so she turned her head to make it easier for him. Pulling down a deep breath through her nostrils, Morgan allowed her fingers to be still while her brain focused on the feel of his lips on her neck. The kiss was warm but soon cooled as he moved farther down, and her nipples grew tight in response, as if those nerves were directly connected to each other.

  Finally half in control again, Morgan slid her hands up over his shoulders and then to the sides, pulling his sleeves a little down his upper arms. She wanted the two of them naked, writhing in each other’s arms, instead of standing mostly dressed, barely inside the living area of the hotel room. “Take your shirt off, Conor.”

  When he opened his brown eyes, her breath hitched at how different he looked. The pupils were swollen so much that they were dark and stormy looking, signaling to her that he was as aroused as she, that all kinds of chemicals were flooding his veins, readying him for their imminent joining, turning him into a visceral being that acted on instinct rather than thought.

  “Okay, Mo, but you need to take something off, too. This isn’t a one-man show.” She raised her eyebrows, pondering if a one-man show might be fun to watch. “Who do you think is the boss around here anyway?”

  Morgan felt a puff of air exit her lungs in amusement, but when she felt her pussy clench, too, she realized she kind of liked Conor being all take-charge with her. She’d been turned on anyway, but that playful aggression just added to it—especially because he’d never truly been an authoritarian bossy employer anyway. Taking control in the bedroom, particula
rly when Morgan tended to be pretty headstrong herself, made her knees feel like jelly.

  “Yes, sir!” Her tone was playful but her movements were all business. She bent over and removed first one shoe and then the other. As she stood, Conor took her back into his arms—but he pulled the strap off her shoulder before sucking at the flesh there. Meanwhile, his hands were feeling all around her back, almost tickling her.

  “Is there a zipper on this thing?”

  “No, it’s stretchy.”

  Conor arched an eyebrow and it felt like his eyes were shooting daggers with tips coated in a wicked aphrodisiac. “So I could just peel this thing off you. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Conor took the hint and kissed her hard, pulling up at the sides of her dress until he could slide his hands underneath where he cupped her ass. Holy shit. It was then that Morgan realized she was wet, her panties soaked with desire. But he kept kissing her, not letting her catch her breath, filling her with the sensation that she was barely keeping her head above water, that one wrong move would cause her to drown.

  Ah, but what a way to go.

  His fingers drifted so damn close to her pussy and it squeezed again, wishing he’d slide a stray digit between her legs just to tease her a little. Curling her toes as if trying to anchor herself to the floor, she dug her nails into his back and took a deep breath, letting his spicy cologne permeate her nostrils. She would forever associate that scent with whatever wound up happening here tonight, that masculine fragrance forever belonging to Conor in her memory hereafter.

  Impatient, Morgan was ready to move the proceedings along as well. As much as she was enjoying letting her fingers explore his solid musculature, she wanted to feel his most solid member that was now straining through his slacks, pressing into her lower belly. Moving her hands to his waistband, she felt around for the button holding them together. In seconds, she’d conquered the button before pulling down the zipper. She wasn’t quite ready to take his cock in her hands, though, because one last dose of reality flooded her brain.

  Oh, my fucking God, Morgan. This is your friend. Your BOSS! What the hell are you doing? Oh, my God, oh, my God, OH, MY GOD!!!

  Her conscience screamed at her, but her id tried to tune it out to little avail. Are we really doing this? As she started to doubt herself once more, Conor nibbled at her lower lip while squeezing her ass, making her pussy drip even more—causing her rational brain to shut right back off. Logical thinking was not allowed here. As if he could read that part of her mind, Conor began pulling up on her dress. After Morgan helped get her right hand out of the fabric, she figured there was no better time than the present. Once joined again, she fished her hand inside the opening in his slacks.

  Holy shit. Not only was he hard…but he was bigger than she’d imagined. No, he wasn’t huge like in the trashy novels Morgan liked to read, but he was big enough to fill her up completely.

  Like a bolt of lightning, Morgan had a shitty thought as she stroked his cock for the very first time: what if he’s thinking about Raquel while he’s doing this to me? But when he let out a tiny groan, she knew even if that woman had been in his head, she could maybe drive her out, even if just for a little while. She slid her hand down his shaft and then up again, giving a small squeeze to the head, spreading around the drops of precum oozing out of the tip. Her dress still clung to her left arm as he remained paused, as if she had complete control over him, but then he moved again, dropping it to the floor like an unwanted doll.

  As if he couldn’t get enough of her, his lips met hers in a bruising kiss, one Morgan knew she’d feel later on in the afterglow. But then he pulled away. Leaning over, he took off his shoes and pulled his pants off the rest of the way, but he was looking at Morgan’s body, too. Morgan hadn’t been a shy adult and she invited his gaze—but her brain, the one she thought had finally shut off, perked up one last time: Thank God you wore matching underwear.

  Pure white and a little lacier than she usually liked, but they matched.

  “You look like an angel, Morgan,” he said, his finger touching the lace on the top of the bra on her left breast as he began kissing her neck again. Morgan’s eyes closed to enjoy the sensation of his lips as she sucked down a deep breath before he began kissing down toward her cleavage. He pulled down the cup on her left breast, exposing her nipple before taking his tongue to it, flicking and teasing, while his other hand gently squeezed the other one. Her nipple grew hard and Morgan felt like she was going to start panting. Her heart began thudding in her chest, making her feel like she was running a marathon. Instead of panting, though, she let out a long, slow sigh, relishing the way Conor’s tongue felt against her rigid pebbly nipple.

  Every muscle on Morgan’s body tightened, screaming in agony at the torture of prolonged titillation, and she forced her hand up into Conor’s hair, grabbing a fistful. “Conor, like any other woman, I love foreplay—but I can’t take this anymore. Fuck me already.”

  Conor looked up from her nipple, once more gazing through dark eyes, but they were now wide, almost as if he couldn’t believe she’d said it. “Your wish is my command.”

  Ha. Finally.

  But he wasn’t kidding. Yanking her panties half down her thighs until the elastic dug into her legs, he said, “You might want to take those off, because they have no chance of surviving me.” Morgan felt a smirk form on her face as she grabbed them and shimmied them down to her knees, feeling the trail of wet juices down her inner thighs, and she let them drop to the floor. Then, holding her about the waist, he lifted her off the ground and pinned her to the wall, kissing her hard once more before impaling her with his rigid cock.

  “Holy fuck,” Morgan gasped. He feels amazing. She hadn’t felt like this with Rex, but her pussy fit Conor’s cock like a glove, wrapping around him, pulsating to his rhythm. Why the hell was she thinking about Rex at a time like this? Deep down, she knew why, though. Rex had ultimately been disappointing in every way possible.

  Moving slowly at first, his cock caressed the walls of her pussy, filling her, stretching her, easing in and out in an almost agonizing way. She could feel her juices flowing faster, his cock growing more slick as he slid back and forth inside her. Letting out a groan, Morgan’s thighs clamped around his body, her pussy mirroring the action, squeezing his cock as he continued ramming it inside her.

  Then he stopped.

  “What the hell are you doing, Conor?” Her voice sounded foreign to her, almost like she was pleading for mercy. Then she growled. “Don’t make me beg.”

  “Trust me.” Grabbing her more firmly underneath her ass and thighs, he walked across the room into the bedroom. When he approached the bed, he gently removed his cock from her to lay her on top of the fluffy white comforter. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to break the mood, but I wanted us to be a little more comfortable.”

  Perhaps he’d missed the part where she’d demanded he fuck her? Did he not get the clue that she was tired of waiting?

  She opened her mouth to berate him but he licked her nipple unexpectedly, making the words fade from her lips, turning into a quick breath. Arching her back, she shoved the entire top of her breast into his mouth and he suckled and licked and even nipped, forcing another gasp from her throat. Then he traced his tongue up to her collarbone and eased his cock inside her once more, and she wrapped her legs around his torso, as if capturing him.

  That goddamned brain of hers made an appearance one last time, asking why the hell Morgan hadn’t made sure Conor put on a condom before they’d gotten started. That was fucking dumb, considering she knew he got around. But Conor had always seemed to be super smart when it came to women and keeping his distance, so she prayed he was clean. She knew she was, and she didn’t need to worry about pregnancy because she’d been on the pill forever.

  She didn’t have to push these nagging thoughts out of her head, though, because the way Conor shifted his cock inside her pulled her to the physical. “Shit, th
at feels amazing.”

  As if a man possessed, he began driving inside her with such force that her mind focused solely on that part of her body. She could no longer register the sheen of perspiration where their torsos met, nor the sting of his cologne or the fading throbbing in her crushed lips. It was all on his cock and how it had commanded all her attention and adoration. “Oh, God,” she moaned. But, after a few minutes, she wondered why she was so close to climax and yet so far away. Her body wasn’t letting go, no matter how deeply she breathed nor how she slightly adjusted her pussy to take him in.

  “Are you close?” His voice sounded sexy, almost hoarse, and if she hadn’t wanted him before, just that quality would have made her melt.

  “I don’t know. I thought so but I can’t tell anymore.” She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she felt almost numb, even though he was giving her the pounding she’d demanded.

  Nodding, Conor eased his cock out of her again and Morgan let out a disappointed whine. “Shh.” He touched her lips with his finger before tonguing her cleavage, and she sucked it into his mouth. He groaned before removing it from her mouth, taking a nipple in between his thumb and finger as his lips worked their way down her body.

  Morgan sucked down a deep breath as Conor spread her legs and, in seconds, his tongue was sliding against her slit. Her pussy clenched again as a cool sensation spread over her body. Her pussy might have been feeling numb, but her clit was on fire and attentive to his touch. “Oh, fuck. Holy fuck. Okay, I can feel that.” She could feel his breath against her flesh as he let out a half laugh, but his tongue didn’t stop working. Every stroke sent out a crashing wave through her body, amping up her desire, waking up every nerve. Holy shit, she could feel it now. Her thighs began quivering in response.