His mouth caressed the skin across my navel as my back arched off the bed. My nails dug into the mattress; a long, drawn—out moan escaped from my lips. His kisses quickly turned to licks. The tip of his tongue changed to a point during the upstroke, traveling as high as my nipples, and went flat during the downstroke where he paused at my folds. My legs spread, waiting for that pointed wetness to flap against my clit.
Nothing but air swished over me. His breath. Exhales that triggered the throbbing to pulse even faster.
"Please," I begged. "Please make me come."
A tease. That's what this was.
I couldn't remember a time when I had craved a man's tongue this deeply. I hadn't begged him with just my words, but with my hands, too, drawing his face even closer. I combed his soft locks as I drove the back of my head into the bed, anticipating the feeling that would shoot through me when he eventually gave me the pressure I needed.
His breathing continued, his mouth hovering over my sex while his hands moved to my nipples. He squeezed with a fierce intensity. My stomach shuddered from the ripple of pleasure.
"Please," I repeated. "I need your tongue."
"If I give you my tongue…" His voice startled me. Up until that point, I hadn't heard him speak. I hadn't seen his face, either, now that I thought about it. "You'll be moaning too loud to answer your phone."
My back straightened, and I glanced between my spread legs and bent knees. The night's darkness casted a shadow over half his face hiding everything but his parted lips and wide tongue. Both dove forward and traced the inside of my folds, flicking across the middle and sucking slowly.
"Screw my phone," I grunted.
Lick, suck…breathe. Lick, suck…breathe.
My hips bowed to his pattern, his rhythm. The wetness he created mixed with my own arousal and it began to drip down my thighs and onto the sheet. The pressure he was using wasn't strong enough to give me an orgasm. He was gentle—too gentle. That was all I'd ever had…I needed more now.
"Harder," I said. As soon as the word left my mouth, he stopped touching me. I wanted him back and even closer. I reached for his hair, but there was nothing. The tongue that teased me so delicately was gone, and the fingers that had squeezed my nipples. Darkness filled the space where he had been.
"What the…" My voice trailed off when I heard the ringing.
You'll be moaning too loud to answer your phone.
The ringtone was a siren, a sound that wouldn't blend into background noise, and one I had specifically chosen for my father so I would never miss his calls.
Where the hell had this man disappeared to? How could his tongue and fingers simply vanish in seconds?
I sat up and pushed my back against the headboard, a movement that made me gasp. My eyelids popped open.
My eyes…hadn't been open before?
I scanned the room for evidence of this mysterious man who had pleased me in the middle of the night. From what I could see, nothing looked out of place and there weren't any clothes on the floor. My blanket and sheet were still on the bed, and I was wearing my pajamas. I turned toward my nightstand and felt the wetness…a small spot on the bottom of my cotton shorts and a dampness between my thighs. I knew if I smelled my fingers, my scent would be all over them...
And it was.
He was just a dream.
I lifted my phone and cleared my throat. "Isn't it a little early to be calling?"
"Business doesn't sleep, therefore neither do I. You know this about me, probably better than anyone else." I said nothing. "Technically, it's quarter to five."
"This had better be an emergency, then."
"Call it what you'd like. Be at the office in an hour, Frankie."
"Wait…" I needed caffeine and a scalding shower—and for the wetness that still clung to my sex to be completely dry—before my brain would really start to work. He would hang up before I had time for any of that, so I forced myself to recount yesterday's hot items. Everything had been settled prior to me leaving the office from what I recalled. Why else would he call? It was too early to open escrow on any of our accounts as none of the lenders were open yet, and funds only processed during banking hours. Emails could wait. It had to be a meeting with one of our international clients. Their trips to the States tended to be so short, they didn't bother getting acclimated to our time zone so this wasn't uncommon. I was just surprised by the short notice. "Who's the appointment with? Giovanni? Hamad?"
"On your way in, why don't you grab me a bagel with the veggie cream cheese I like. And a latte, extra hot, with that foam stuff on top and real sugar, none of that artificial crap. Oh, and Frankie, don't be late."
He disconnected the call before I had a chance to repeat my question or say good—bye. That didn't matter. He knew I'd be there within the next forty—five minutes with his bagel and coffee exactly the way he had requested it. That was how he had raised me to act, and that was one of the reasons he would soon be handing me his company.