My balls tighten and I yank her head back before I can come down her throat. Not that I don’t want to, but a warning is appropriate.

“I want it,” she says before I have a chance to do more than groan as her lips clear the head of my cock. Her tongue wets her lips the moment the words leave her mouth. Her hand is still wrapped around the base of me, her thumb making firm swipes on the underside of my cock as she leans forward with her eyes on mine. “Give it to me, Jennings.”

Bloody fucking hell.

I cup her jaw and slide my cock across the velvety surface of her tongue, her lips sucking me in, and spill myself down her throat with a grunt. When I’ve stopped she pulls back and swallows quickly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she does and wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

That little sequence should not be sexy but dammit if it wasn’t. Sexy as hell because she did it for me, nearly winced when she swallowed. Fucking hell, that was hot. The innocence of it. As if I’m corrupting her a tad.

Then just as quickly she blinks before nodding her head. “Good, right?” she says with the tiniest hint of a smug smile and now I’m the one laughing.

“Better than good, love.” I pull her to her feet and run my fingertips across her shoulder blades, easing her bra straps down as I do. “You were brilliant.”

“Brilliant!” she repeats in a mock British accent with a wide grin. “I’ve definitely never been called brilliant before,” she says and I find the idea of her doing this with someone more off-putting than I care to admit. I unsnap her bra and toss it onto the dresser so I don’t have to see her furrow her brow over it landing on the floor. Then I do the same with her skirt before pushing her to the bed so I can slide her knickers past her ankles. They go with the rest of her clothes on the dresser before I crawl over her onto the bed, nudging her thighs apart with my knee as I do. Time to convince her tonight was a good idea, and that tomorrow night will be an even better one.

She sighs and spreads her legs further apart as I suck one of her perfect tits into my mouth. I cup the other with my palm and rub my thumb across her nipple and marvel at every splendid inch of her body. When I pinch her nipple her responding moan is music to my ears. Her legs tighten and she arches herself against me. The way her dark hair spreads across the pillows is a visual I’ll use to pleasure myself to in the future, no doubt. I love the weight of her tits in my hands, the warmth of her skin when I suck her between my lips. She smells like a sunny day—some blend of coconut and citrus and heaven.

“Are you going to do that thing again?” Her hands are in my hair, her fingertips massaging my scalp, and I’d like it very much if she never stopped touching me.

“Thing?” I switch tits with my tongue and slide a hand lower so I can caress the skin where her small waist gives way to the delicate curve of her hip. I’ll need to fuck her from behind before we’re through so I can place my hands on her hips while she’s kneeling before me, using the leverage to move her on and off of my cock while she—

“With your tongue,” she says, interrupting my fantasy.

“I’m doing a thing with my tongue right now,” I tell her and nip at her with my teeth in example.

“The other thing,” she ekes out as she arches against me again, her fingertips pressing firmer in direct response to my teeth.

“This thing?” I ask as I move my hand from her hip and slide two fingers directly through her center, parting her. She’s soaking and I’m grinning.

“Yup,” she says, the word popping from her lips in a gasp. “That thing.”

“Did you enjoy that thing, love?” I almost slip and call her Daisy. Why the bloody hell doesn’t she want me to call her Daisy? What woman doesn’t want to be called by her name during sex? It’s beyond peculiar and I shouldn’t give a toss, yet I find that I do.

But later. I’ll think about that later. Right now I’ll call her anything she damn well asks if it keeps her in my bed and under my tongue. Enveloping my cock with her wet pussy and screaming my name with her sweet mouth. Unlike her, I love hearing my name as she comes, her voice breathy and strained and filled with pleasure. Her American-accented pronunciations of ‘don’t stop’ and ‘right there’ not so different from what I’m used to, but so much sweeter-sounding coming from her.

“Yes.” She nods, her hair brushing across the pillow. “I did enjoy it. You should do it again. It probably won’t be as good as I remembered it, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Right then.” I shake my head and place a kiss on the underside of her breast. “I probably just got lucky the first time, didn’t I?”

“You might’ve,” she agrees. “I’ll keep my expectations tempered.”

“Off I go then.” I smirk as I reposition myself, kissing her navel on the way. “I’ll give it my best go.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmurs as I spread her apart and cover her with my mouth. Pleasuring this woman is something I’m only too happy to do. Hell, just thinking about it had me fighting off a hard-on all day.

She squirms as I suck her clit between my lips and her fingers tug on my hair in response. Interpreting her every twitch and sigh and learning how to make her groan harder and arch higher is the sole focus of my life at the moment. Her taste, her scent. The touch of her fingers. The tilt of her pelvis when she’s close to coming.

I could assemble an encyclopedia’s worth of ways to make her scream and it’d be time well spent.

But I’ve only got a week so I’d best pay attention. I can collect a notebook’s worth of ways in that time, surely.

I discover that she’s a little bit ticklish when a giggle slips out as I’m kissing her inner thigh and positioning her leg over my shoulder.

I learn that she tastes even better tonight than she did two nights ago.

I determine that she’s not used to anal play when she jumps from a fingertip coated in her wetness circling her there, but that she comes pretty spectacularly when she lets me slip the finger inside.

I worry that a week won’t be enough and contemplate taking more meetings stateside this year. Should I? Would she want that? I don’t even know which state she lives in. Am I getting way ahead of myself? She’s hiding something from me and I don’t like deceit. But the real problem is this: I’m curious if it’ll matter. Will whatever she’s hiding be enough to break this spell she has on me?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Violet

I take a second head count, verifying everyone is on board before giving George the okay to hit the road. The suitcases have been counted twice and loaded underneath the bus and I haven’t lost any guests. This tour guide thing is easy-peasy. Besides feeling like someone is going to yell ‘You’re not Daisy!’ at any given moment, easy.

I drop into my seat with a small sigh of relief and check my notebook. Today we’re traveling a couple of hours from Washington, DC to Williamsburg, Virginia where we’ll spend two nights. But first we’ll stop in Mount Vernon, home of the first American president George Washington, for a tour of his estate and then it’s on to some revolution museum somewhere—I really need to check my notes.

Which is going to be difficult because Jennings has just deposited himself into the seat beside me.

“I believe we’ve established that you cannot sit there,” I remind him without looking up from my notebook.

“We established that as a tour guest I sit wherever I like.”

“First of all, that’s not true. You’re supposed to be in a seat rotation along with everyone else in order for everyone to get the chance to sit up front and enjoy the scenic view.”

“I’m not taking up anyone’s spot though, am I? I’m just taking this empty seat beside you.”

“I’m working,” I remind him.

“I can see that. Well done, you.”

I turn to look at him now so he won’t miss me glaring at him. I need him to go away so I can focus on this tour. It’s bad enough that I’m hyper-aware of him to begin with, my idiotic heart beating faster whenever I know he’s nearby. I sure as heck don’t need him sitting right next to me. “What about your nan, Jennings? Shouldn’t you be sitting with her?”

He winks at me and tilts his head towards the back where she’s sitting. “She’s made fast friends with the three Canadian ladies traveling together. It’s easier for them to talk if they sit together.” He shrugs. “So I’m odd man out, it seems.”

I blow out a loud breath and shake my head. “How convenient for you.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he agrees as he holds up a piece of candy wrapped in cellophane. “I’m supposed to give this to you. It’s a maple candy from the Canadians.”

Of course it is.

“Checking your notes again?” he inquires with a glance at my notebook.

I snatch the candy out of his hand and twist the wrapper open then pop the candy into my mouth. I don’t want a maple candy but I’ll take it to buy myself a minute. Hmm, it’s pretty good actually.