Levi:I want her nipples hard so they’re more sensitive. And the plan . . . to tease the ever-living fuck out of her. I want this over by tonight. I want her begging me, so I can win and it all be done.
Ollie:Well, I just got horny.
Penny:You’re always horny.
Winnie:I’ve never met anyone hornier than you, Ollie.
Levi:I’d agree with that statement. The horniest.
Ollie:I wear the label with pride.
Penny:Well, good luck. I approve.
Winnie:Approved.
Ollie:Go for it!
Levi:Where’s Blakely?
Blakely:Trying to have phone sex with my man, so stop texting!
Chuckling, I set my phone down on my nightstand and am plugging it in just as Wylie exits the bathroom. She’s carrying her clothes from tonight and strutting around in a pair of tiny silk shorts and a tank top.
Her legs and ass fill out the shorts so when she walks, they ride up. Her shirt clings to her chest and stomach, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Fuck, she’s so fine.
And I like her especially like this. No makeup, hair in a messy bun, casual. She looks cuddly and like I could wrap my entire body around her to keep her warm and protected.
“My goodness, it’s chilly in here,” she says as she sets her clothes down and looks around to find the thermostat. Her eyes zero in on it, then she glances over at me as I lie casually on the bed, the blankets barely covering my torso. “Did you want it to be an icebox in here?”
“Yeah, I was too hot in our last hotel room. I prefer it to be cold.”
“Okay, well, it’s freezing.” She turns toward me and points at her chest. “Look at my nipples. They’re hard as stone.”
I wet my lips, very satisfied with looking at her nipples that I can nearly see through her shirt.
“Nipples look great to me,” I say. “No complaints.”
“Says my boss,” she says.
“Hey, you’re the one who told me to look at them. I’m just doing as I’m told.”
She rolls her eyes and walks over to her cot where she slips under the covers. I turn out the light and sink into the mattress, just waiting for my moment to pop the question.
I listen as she moves on her cot, trying to get comfortable.
After the third jostle, I say, “Everything okay over there?”
“Fine, just trying to get warm.”
I smile and place my hand behind my head as I stare up at the ceiling. “You know, you can always join me in my bed if you’re cold. I run hot.”
I hear her still, and I can’t contain my smile. She comes off tough, like she can hang in this sexual warfare, but I think it’s all show. I don’t think she can hang at all. I think she’s trying to grasp anything to make it seem like she can hang, but in reality, I own this battle.
“You want me to sleep in your bed?” she finally asks.
“I don’t want you to do anything. I’m just offering since you’re so cold,” I answer.
She’s silent again, and I know she’s thinking about it.
I hope she says yes because I want nothing more than to be able to sleep next to her, to hold her, to fucking drive her mad with need.
After a few seconds, she says, “If I go in your bed, I’ll need to use your body warmth.”
“Use me any way you want, Wylie,” I say.
After another bout of silence, she leaves the cot and moves over to my side of the bed. Her silhouette comes into view, so I lift the bed sheets and let her in. She slips under the covers and then curls away from me and into one of my pillows.
Not even wanting to give her a second to reconsider, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into my bare chest, exposing her to my body heat.
“Warm?” I whisper into her ear.
I can feel her breathing hitch as she says, “Yes. That’s, uh, that’s better.”
“Good,” I say. “Can’t have my assistant cold.” I keep my arm around her as I press my chin up against her head, loving how she so easily fits right into the little spoon position, like she was made for me to hold her.
And hell, I know this was my choice, that I thought this was a good idea, but having her this close, feeling her in my arms, I fear that I might be the one who breaks.
But what does breaking even mean?
Because if I graze her boob, is that breaking? Or is that teasing? In my mind, breaking would be a kiss or going full throttle fucking. I think a graze here and a tease there never hurt anyone. That’s all part of the game, part of the strategy, right?
My question is, what’s going to be her move?
Sure, she’s here in my bed, but she can’t possibly just be here. She has to have a move. Any kind of move, something that’s going to—
She wiggles her ass right against my crotch, getting comfortable.
And yup, there it is.
That’s her fucking move and what a great one.
Because my dick immediately wants more.
My dick wants that to happen again. Multiple times.
“You good?” I slide my hand to her stomach.
“Yes,” she says as her stomach contracts from my touch.
“Good, because I can’t have you uncomfortable.” I move my hand up her stomach to rest just below her breast. “Can’t remember the last time I cuddled with someone,” I say. “And I know I’ve never cuddled with an employee before.”
“Would you consider this cuddling?” she asks. “I thought it would classify under trying to stay warm.”
“Hmm, perhaps,” I say. “But the ass wiggle against my dick, that wasn’t keeping warm, was it?”
“It’s called friction, Levi. We need some to stay warm.”
“Hmm, okay, so then if I were to, I don’t know, graze the underside of your breast like this”—I glide my hand under her heavy breast, causing her to inhale sharply—“that would be friction, right?”
“That, yes, that would be friction.”
“Good to know. Well, I can offer you many types of friction, then. I can use just my thumb.” I drag my thumb over the underside of her breast causing her to lean her head back against my shoulder. “I can use my whole hand.” I drag the back of my hand under her breast. “Or I can use my palm,” I say as I cup the underside of her breast, wanting so much more than these little teases. “You just let me know what you want.”
I bring my hand back to her stomach, despite wanting to do so much more than that.
If I had it my way, I’d strip her out of her shirt, flip her to her back, and play with her tits until she came, then I’d tuck her into my chest and sleep like that for the rest of the night.
“Which was your favorite?” she asks.
“The thumb drag,” I answer. “Not too much friction, but I enjoyed the way it made your body heat.”
“How do you know I heated?” she asks as she presses her ass against my hardening dick. It’s going to be a long fucking night.
“I could feel it,” I answer as I run my thumb along the sensitive flesh of her breast again. She lets out a low breath as I graze her back and forth. “Your entire body stills, and I know in your mind, as your blood boils with need, you don’t just want my thumb playing with your breast, but you want it passing over your nipple.”
“You think highly of yourself,” she says. “I don’t think a nipple pass is creating that much friction.”
“Friction, no, but will it skyrocket the heat level in your body?” I lean in close to her ear. “You’ll be a fucking inferno.” Then just to test her, I run my thumb just below her nipple, so close that I nearly groan.
“Fuck,” she whispers as she tenses.
And I wait.
I wait for her to snap. For her to flip to her back, wrap her hand around the back of my neck, and pull me in for a kiss.
But when she doesn’t move, when she doesn’t do anything but rest against my chest, I realize that I’m going to have to do a hell of a lot more to get her to crack.
I’m impressed. I thought this would have done it.
Maybe . . .