Hitched Volume 1 (Imperfect Love Book #1)

NoahText © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Well, that went well,” I say as I maneuver my sleek black Tesla out of the parking garage. I give the gas pedal a modest tap and we fly off down the street.

I feel ten feet tall, as smug as can be, and I don’t give a shit right now. Not even the way my cock is aching like a motherfucker can ruin my mood.

Olivia shoots me a questioning glare, and I know she’s wondering what I’m referring to-the business meeting with the new client that we’ll probably land, or my favorite part, almost getting her off in the bathroom. My body is still primed and ready to deliver.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wash your hands,” she snaps.

“I may never wash this hand again.” I smile and make a lewd gesture with my fingers.

She turns away from me with a huff and looks out her window in silence the rest of the way home.

When we arrive, the penthouse is dark and quiet and my hormones are still raging. Olivia sets her purse and cell phone down on the entry table, then turns, putting her back toward me.

“Will you unzip me?”

I drag her zipper down her back, letting my fingers graze her skin, appreciating the twin dimples in the small of her back and the very top of her lacy thong.

Torture. This is pure torture.

Taking a chance, I lean forward and place a soft kiss against the back of her neck. “We could finish what we started at the restaurant.”

Her breathing has grown shallow and I can practically smell her arousal. I know her panties are still soaked. The idea of touching her again has me nearly overcome with desire.

“It’s probably not a good idea. We should keep this strictly professional from now on. We need to focus on the business, don’t you think?”

But she sounds the slightest bit unsure, and that’s all I need. It tells me that it’s only a matter of time until I get what I want. And what I want is her tight cunt wrapped around my cock, where I can pound away for hours. Days, even.

“You were so close back there. I could feel your pussy gripping my fingers, that swollen little clit pulsing in time with every heartbeat. You were about to come,” I whisper.

The heat of my breath sends a rash of goose bumps racing down the back of her neck. I know a woman’s body well, how to read all the signs and signals, and everything about Olivia is blaring that she needs to be fucked. Stripped down, laid on the bed, and worshiped like the goddess she is.

“Noah . . .” Her voice is almost a groan, and my cock hardens instantly.

“What do you do for fun, Snowflake? Everything can’t be about work. Sometimes blowing off some steam is a good thing.”

“For everything there is a season.” She straightens her posture. “And this is our season to buckle down and focus on business, not play grab-ass games. I’m sure that’s a foreign concept to you, but-”

“Believe me, I’m dead serious about Tate & Cane. But business is for the workday. After hours is for playtime. And in case you failed to notice . . .” I trail one fingertip down her spine, lingering at the waistband to her panties. “It’s dark outside. And we’re two consenting adults.”

“Two? Try counting again.”

The ice princess takes a step away from me and heads toward the bedroom, where I drink in one last glimpse of her bared back and hips before she shuts the door. I can just imagine her letting the dress slip down her long legs, the fabric pooling around her still-heeled feet, her firm ass covered only with a scrap of lace . . .

God. Fucking. Damn it.

I rake my fingers through my hair and blow out a frustrated sigh. For a second, I don’t know if I’m frustrated because I’m horny and insanely attracted to her, or because she’s making it impossible to win our bet.

No. Fuck that. It’s just because I want her. I want to take her in my arms and understand that we could really have something here. She’s just so damn stubborn. And her secret dream of a romantic wedding-I may not be her first pick, but I want to at least meet her halfway, as more than friends. I’ll just have to find a way to pull this off and keep everyone happy.

For now, I go into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I don’t lock it . . . just in case there’s a sliver of a chance Olivia changes her mind. I undo my belt and tug down my dress pants just enough to free my aching cock. Then I squirt some of her scented lotion into my palm and begin to stroke myself.

Her light, feminine scent surrounds me, and the sensations tingling along my spine mean this won’t take long. For the second time this week, I work my big hand up and down my cock, wishing it were her small, delicate hand instead.

Memories of tonight in the restaurant restroom flash through my mind like an erotic dream. God, she was so ready after just a few minutes of banter and kissing. Her rosy nipples were tightened into little buds, and when I sucked and licked, they pebbled against my tongue. She tasted so sweet and made the best little grunting whimpers I’ve ever heard.

And then when I slipped my fingers into her panties-I half expected her to tell me to stop, only she didn’t. Instead, she stepped her heeled feet further apart. The tiniest possible movement, but I was so attuned to her, I noticed. She wanted me to touch her. Craved it just as badly as I did. She was warm and wet, sweet, silky perfection. And when I slipped two fingers inside, I almost came right then. Her cunt was so tight, it gripped my fingers and sucked at them, greedy for me to fuck her.

I shudder at the memory. So perfect. Beautiful. Intelligent. Sexual. She’s the total package.

A few more long pulls and I come hard with a grunt.

• • •

“Are you sure about this?” Olivia asks.

Her gaze wanders over to the couple dozen partygoers scattered across Rosita’s lawn. People are laughing and chatting in small groups, and upbeat Mexican pop plays from a boom box on the patio. The chain-link fence separates her yard from an auto shop behind her house. A single tree stands tall in the center with a festive piñata hanging from a branch.

“Of course. This is going to be great. Come on.” I tug her toward Rosita and the birthday girl, Maria.

I drop down to one knee in front of her. “Wow. Thirty-six today, huh?”

She shakes her head, her braided pigtails bobbing wildly. “No. I’m seven!” she boasts.

“Ah, seven. Well, happy birthday.” I give her a wink and she wrinkles her nose. She’s definitely still at the age where boys are gross. “That’s a very pretty dress you have on today.”

She looks down at her hot-pink dress with decorative tangerine stitching. “Thank you. My mommy made it.” She smiles up at Rosita.

When I rise to my feet, I give Rosita a hug. “Everything looks great. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Of course, mi amor. Thank you for coming,” she says to both me and Olivia. It was a one-hour drive to Jersey, but well worth it.

“Of course,” Olivia echoes, her smile only a little guarded. She’s obviously out of her element here, but trying her best to cope.

“Please, enjoy yourselves. There’s plenty to eat, and drinks are inside.”

I survey the picnic table that’s so overloaded, not an inch of tabletop is showing. Empanadas, carne asada, arroz con pollo, a bunch of things I don’t recognize but am game to try, and a beautiful tres leches cake in the center of it all.

“You made enough to feed an army,” I say with a chuckle.

“My family has big appetites.” Rosita grins wryly at me.

I hand my gift bag to Rosita. It has a couple of Spanish chapter books for Maria. I know that keeping her family’s culture alive and ensuring her kids are bilingual is important to Rosita. It’s something she and I have talked about before, and I think it’s damn smart. Anyone who knows two languages will have a leg up in the business world when the time comes.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bring a gift. Your presence here is enough.”

I shake my head. “Of course I brought a gift. What birthday party is complete without a big pile of presents?”

Rosita’s smile falls slightly. “Things are a little tight right now. I made Maria’s gifts myself this year.”

Oh shit. I meant to make a playful idle comment, not call attention to the small gift pile.

“Is everything okay?”