Page 127 of Dirty Rival
He closes the space between us and pulls me to him. “It was what I wanted, Carrie. And,” he cups my naked backside through the thin silk of my robe, “you’re wearing the emerald dress. You have it pulled out.”
“Yes. I am.”
His eyes burn hot. “If you wear panties under it, I’ll spank you when we get home. If you don’t, I’ll lick you. You don’t get both. You decide.”
Oh my. I’m suddenly wet and hot and tingling all over, and before I can even recover from that onslaught of sensations, he smacks my ass hard enough that I yelp, and then turns me to face the counter. “Let me give you something to think about.” He yanks my robe up. “I’m going to spank you now.”
“What? Reid—”
“Count. One. Two. Now.” He spanks me, one, two, three times. He then turns me around, sits my tingling ass on the counter and kneels between my legs, and licks my naked clit. And that’s all. He teases me. He stands up and says, “That was a taste for later. For me and you. You decide how we end the night.” And with that, he turns, walks to the shower, strips naked, and gets inside, leaving my backside burning and my sex clenched. Because Reid Maxwell knows how to make me want more.
Chapter sixty-two
Carrie
Reid is as stunning in his tuxedo as he was the night I met him, and perhaps memories of his tongue that night are what solidify my decision on the panties or no panties topic.
I’m not wearing panties, because while I like that man’s hand on my backside, his tongue is magical. The only problem with that state of undress is that October has reared its head this evening and fall has arrived. My dress is not much of a defense for the chilly eve, even without the straight stream of air up my skirt which I found out in our short walk to our hired car.
Once we’re settled into the backseat for the short ride, the driver talks parking and pick up details for a full two blocks. When finally, that is over and done, Reid pulls me close, offering me a big dose of that big, hot body of his to warm me up, and while it works, it just makes me want more of his big, hot body. “You looking as stunning as ever in that dress, Carrie.” His fingers slip under my dress and inch up my thigh, and he clearly has no intention of stopping.
I catch his hand. “You wait.”
“Waiting’s overrated.”
“Not tonight when I have to be focused.”
“I can take the edge off.” His fingers flex on the lace of my thigh high.
“Stop,” I whisper.
His eyes dance with mischief, but the driver announces, “Your destination, sir.”
Reid inhales and then cups my face, bringing his lips to my lips. “Waiting is really fucking overrated.” He kisses me. “But it appears I’m waiting.”
I laugh and he presses his cheek to mine. “I’ll make you pay for that laugh. Perhaps you get the spanking to go with my tongue, because we both know you aren’t wearing panties.” He doesn’t give me time to reply. He opens the door, exits the car and helps me out, pulling me flush to his hard body. “I’m right here with you, Carrie.” He strokes my hair. “We’re going to win Grayson’s business.” He takes my hand and starts to walk, but I tug against him.
He turns to look at me and I don’t know why I need to say it or why I feel he needs me to say it, but I add, “I’m right here with you, too, you know that, right?”
Something flickers in his eyes, some unknown emotion, but warmth follows. “Stay that way. I want you to stay that way.” He kisses my hand and shuts the car door.
The driver arrives to see us off, apparently obsessed with our arrangements. “I’ll be close by, sir. Just text me.”
Once we’re inside the luxurious hotel that is all sleek white tiles that contrast the dark furnishings, beneath a high ceiling with dangling lights, I don’t miss the way several beautiful women walk by us and gape and whisper about Reid. He, however, doesn’t seem to notice, though of course, this is Reid Maxwell, and he notices. He knows. He’s simply focused on me, his arm around my waist, hand on my hip. There is not a fleeting moment where I feel he is anywhere but one hundred percent with me.
We are met by security, who lead us to a second-level conference room. Inside, we’re greeted by Grayson, and another man, both in tuxedos. Grayson’s particularly handsome in his, quite able to inspire the tall, dark, and handsome cliché, while the other man, who is in his late thirties I estimate, has wavy light brown hair and looks that inspire more of a ruggedly good-looking observation.
“This is Eric Mitchell,” Grayson says, indicating the man. “He’s my right-hand man, and considering he’s made himself a millionaire many times over managing my investments, I want him in on the meeting. I trust him.”
There is the traditional shaking of hands, and I note that Eric has a black and gray tattoo sleeve peeking from his jacket. My gaze meets his and he arches a brow as if wanting me to ask about it. I don’t. I simply find it interesting. Grayson isn’t the ink kind of guy, at least I didn’t think he was, and I actually think Eric’s obvious differences make both men more interesting.
“Let’s sit,” Grayson says, indicating the large rectangular table.
My next surprise is that Grayson doesn’t choose the endcap, but rather a spot across from me and beside Eric. “Ask the question, Carrie,” Eric says.
Reid glances down at me. “What’s he talking about?”
“Me looking at his tattoo sleeve.” I shift my attention to Eric. “An observation doesn’t require a question. I don’t have one.”