Free The Mysterious Mr. Heath by Ariel Atwell Page A

two, Peters, we’re almost finished here,” she called out. “What are you smiling about?” she asked Matthew, who was also scrambling to adjust his clothing back to a fully respectable state.
    “‘We’re almost finished here,’” he mimicked. “Don’t you think he might be wondering what we’re finishing?”
    “That’s exactly why we cannot do this again,” she hissed.
    “If you say so, Mr. Heath,” he said, his lips curved into a mischievous smile.
    For the millionth time she wondered why he had to be so devastatingly handsome.
    “Should I plan for us to depart the office at the usual time tonight?”
    “If that suits you,” she said, tucking in her shirt.
    He pulled her close for one last kiss.
    “I’ll be counting the hours until I have you naked in my arms again, Mr. Heath,” he said, taking her hand and placing it across the front of his trousers, where she felt the unmistakable bulge of his erection. “It won’t be an early night, so prepare yourself. For I fully intend to hold you to the terms of our agreement.”
    She shivered. Whether in fear or anticipation, she couldn’t be sure.
    “I appreciate your perspective on that, Heath. You’ve really helped clarify those issues for me,” Matthew said loudly as he opened the door. “Until tonight,” he said, sotto voce, and strode out of her office.
    * * * *
    That evening they finished their dinner in record time.
    “You may depart early tonight, Martin,” Laurence told the servant. “Mrs. Martin will be glad to see you at home early for a change.”
    “If you say so, sir,” Martin said, a doubtful look on his face.
    The back door had barely shut behind him before Matthew was taking her mouth in an urgent kiss that sent hot streaks of arousals arcing through her body.
    “Has a meal ever taken longer?” he growled. “I’ve been wanting to do this all evening.” He cupped the crescent of her ass with his large hands and pulled her against him so that she could feel the hardness of his erection through her clothing and his.
    She rose to meet his kiss, her lips giving back everything he was trying to take. Through the fabric of her breast bindings, she felt her nipples tingle and ache, and she pressed herself against his chest, seeking relief. She felt almost feverish then, rubbing her hips and thighs against his hardness until he too was gasping.
    “I need to be inside you now,” he said, unfastening her trousers and sliding them down to make room to slip his hand between her legs.
    “I want you there,” she said, gasping when he breached her with a long finger, twirling his thumb against the outside of her.
    “I love how you are always wet for me,” he rasped, stroking the sensitive flesh. “Take off your clothes now, or so help me I will rip them off your body.”
    “You’re proving to be quite the brute for an Oxford man, Mr. Hastings,” she muttered, but obediently unbuttoned her shirt. She removed the man’s corset, standing before him clad only in her trousers and the binding cloths.
    “If you had any idea just how primitive I am feeling toward you right now, you would order me to leave,” he said. “Take the rest off now. I want to see all of you.”
    She undid the bindings, and as her breasts sprang free, he groaned.
    “Hold them up for me,” he ordered roughly.
    “Like this?” she said breathlessly, sliding her hands beneath the plump mounds and offering herself to him like a sacrifice to an ancient god.
    “Exactly like that,” he said, dipping his head down and making a feast of her rosy-tipped nipples, teasing and licking each in turn until she was whimpering with the pleasure of it, the sensations pulsing directly down to the place between her legs where he was stroking.
    “I want you, Matthew, inside of me, not just your fingers, but all of you,” she cried out as she writhed against him.
    He pulled away, his eyes glittering, and then his clothes were off and he stood shamelessly naked before her, his