The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(31)
Author: Jessica Clare

Grant finally looked over at Brenna’s desk. It was covered in wadded paper, stacks of folders hanging messily off one corner. Her monitor was shoved off to one side, and a mug—his favorite, mind you—hung half-off the edge of the desk, a lipstick ring on the lip. Her feet were planted on the desk and she had the keyboard in her lap, typing. She wore no shoes, her bare feet wiggling, and he caught a glimpse of bright blue toenail polish. Her jeans were tight and showcased her sexy legs, her shirt ill-fitting and probably borrowed from someone. Her messy, dark curls were pulled into an equally messy ponytail, her purple fringe of bangs flirting with her brow. And her full mouth was frowning over at him.

Damn, she was sexy as hell. He was getting aroused just looking at her. “Am I going to keep doing what?”

“Sighing.” Annoyance flashed in her eyes.

“I’m not sighing.”

In response, she gave a big, gusty sigh, mimicking him. And then sighed again a moment later, just to drive the knife in a bit further. “Look, if you’re going to be a sad panda all day, I’ll just leave.”

“Where are you going to go?” he couldn’t help but ask. “You gave up your cabin, remember?”

“Are we still fighting about that?”

“We might be. I’m still mad at you.”

“Well, I’m getting mad at you, too, because you’re being annoying. I like you much better when your mouth is occupied.”

The sexual comment made his dick immediately hard as a rock. “I could tell,” Grant murmured, his voice going low and husky. It took everything he had to continue to sit casually at his desk, hands flat on the surface. “You kept screaming my name and getting wetter every time you came.”

Her eyes grew soft, and he watched her suck in a breath, as if remembering last night. Her ni**les grew visible through her T-shirt, and he wanted to drag her across his desk and lay her out so he could play with them.

“I’m tired of fighting,” she declared. “Can we kiss and make up, already?”

“I’m fine with that,” he said hoarsely, and every nerve in his body jumped when she got up from her desk and crossed the room toward him, that purple fringe of bangs framing a pair of very interested eyes. Grant didn’t get up, and when she came to his side of the desk, she slid a leg over his and then hopped onto his desk, straddling him.

Then she leaned in, and he met her halfway to kiss her.

Her tongue was sweet and soft as she brushed it against his, her lips tasting faintly of cherry lipgloss. And she made a small noise of pleasure when their tongues caressed, which got him even harder. He put everything he had into the kiss, his hand going to the back of her neck and pulling her closer. She moaned softly, apparently enjoying his hand at her nape, tangled in her ponytail. And he stroked deep into her mouth, his other hand moving to brush across her small breast as she leaned in, her hands supported on the arms of his chair.

She pulled away moments later, breathless and sexy as hell. “We all better now?” she murmured.

“You’re forgiven,” he breathed against her cherry lips.

She grinned. “I wasn’t apologizing, just distracting.” And before he could protest, she slicked her tongue over his lips again, and he didn’t care who was apologizing to who any longer.

He just wanted to keep kissing Brenna.

“Let’s play a game,” she breathed against his mouth, and gave his chair a little push backward.

“Oh?” If he got any harder, he was going to bust some seams in his pants. But he couldn’t stop staring up at her, at her gorgeous, sensual face, that wicked look in her eyes.

“Let’s play Make Grant Yell Brenna’s Name,” she said with an evil grin on her face, and slid down under his desk.

His eyes widened, his hands clenching on the armrests she’d just released. This was the worst possible timing to do something like this, he told himself as he watched her purple and brown head disappear under his desk. He wanted this, more than anything, but Colt and his family would be back at any minute, and they couldn’t—

Grant’s train of thoughts died when he felt her hands on his zipper, her elbows digging into his thighs. “Brenna,” he groaned.

“You can’t start yet,” she teased. “You have to wait for me to get my mouth on you before you start screaming my name.”

And her hands undid his zipper, then opened the clasp of his belt. He heard the jangle and whisk of his belt as she pulled it aside, and then he felt warm hands tugging down his boxers, until the hard ache of his c**k was released. Her hands immediately went around it, and she made a small noise of approval, as if pleased that he was already so hard for her.

A hot, wet mouth closed over the head of his cock. Grant groaned and tilted his head back, his eyes closed. All thoughts of stopping Brenna had gone out the window as soon as she’d put her lips on him. Her tongue flicked and rubbed against the slit of his cockhead, and pleasure rippled through him. He wanted to tangle a hand into her hair again, and drive her face down on his c**k until she was moaning with pleasure, too. Would she let him f**k her face? He groaned again when her tongue swirled around the head of his dick in a circular, teasing motion.

The front door of the main lodge opened.

Grant stiffened, his eyes flying open. His hands clenched on the arms of his chair as Dane came into view. Brenna had to get out from under his desk now, and they’d have to explain—

Except she didn’t seem to be stopping. She’d gone silent at the sound of the front door opening, but her mouth was still on his cock, and she was expertly licking the underside, rubbing it with her tongue. She clearly had no plans of stopping.

“Hey, man,” Dane said, letting the front door slam shut behind him. He went to his desk across the room and flopped down, looking weary. “You would not believe how many types of wedding cakes there are out there.”

Fuck, Brenna’s tongue was rubbing hard against the crown of his cock, and her fist was squeezed around the base. Grant’s eyes threatened to glaze over, but he forced himself to concentrate, act as if nothing was going on. Dane couldn’t see Brenna because the lodge desks were massive and made entirely of oak. The cube of space left for someone to stretch their legs was enclosed on the other side, so no one would see Brenna kneeling before him and servicing him.

And damn if she wasn’t servicing the hell out of him.

He made a small noise in his throat, and then cleared it when Dane gave him an odd look. “There are a lot of cakes,” Grant said in a strangled voice. “Did Miranda find one she liked?”