The Mammoth Book of Erotica Presents The Best of Saskia Walker Read Free Page B

shift of the crowd into the train made it impossible to pick him out. Then it was gone. The platform was empty. She stared at the place where he had stood until her train pulled in. She moved to the far side of the carriage, where she could stand out her journey, and turned on her heel just in time to see Jack close in behind her.
    “Your place it is then.” His eyes glittered with anticipation, with certainty.
    Her heart thudded in her chest. Her lips parted, but this time no retort emerged. Between her thighs, a pulse throbbed with need. She closed her mouth, snatching at the overhead handhold for support.
    His smile was triumphant.
    Later, in her flat, he threw her by rejecting a comfortable, relaxed seat on the sofa. Instead he pulled out a dining chair, indicating that she do the same and sit facing him.
    He’d teased her all the way home, innuendo in his every word, keeping her wired. And now, despite the fact they were in her home, he took charge immediately. Not in an aggressive way, but with a relaxed sense of surety that was disarming. She put her wineglass down on the table and took her seat, noting how exposed the setup made her feel.
    He lounged back over his chair, one leg folded, his ankle resting on the opposite knee, his hand loosely on the juncture. His looks were rugged but suave. He was dangerously attractive.
    She tried to look as relaxed as he appeared, but she was far from it.
    “I enjoyed watching you deal with that moron Laybourne at today’s meeting.”
    She gave a breathy laugh, releasing some of the tension he had aroused in her. “He’s just an arrogant little prick with very little real knowledge.”
    “You’re so right.” He gave a deep and genuine laugh. “He’s jealous of your abilities though, and he’s lusting after your body. The two vying motivations confuse him. Lust for a competitor can screw with a guy’s mind.” He looked at her with deliberation.
    Her heart raced. “It can?”
    “If he lets it.” His gaze moved over her body, slowly.
    “And are you jealous of my skills?” She crossed her legs high on the thigh, crushing the pounding pulse in her clit.
    “No, I admire them immensely. I’m not threatened by you.”
    Then for a moment silence hung heavy in the atmosphere.
    He raised one eyebrow. “I notice you didn’t ask if I lusted after you.”
    “I don’t think you came here with the sole purpose of analyzing today’s meeting.”
    He tipped his glass at her. “Indeed. And you did let me come home with you.”
    She couldn’t deny it. “So I did.”
    Silent acknowledgment raced between them.
We are going to fuck
.
    He took a sip of his wine, eyeing her as she crossed and uncrossed her legs.
    “It’s not easy for you, is it? Blonde, pretty, extraordinarily intelligent.”
    Something akin to relief hit her. “No, it isn’t.” She smiled, genuinely appreciating his words. He really had been observing her.
    “What do you usually do, when you bring a man home for sex?” He said it as if he was discussing the weather, and glanced around the open-plan living area, as if the furniture could tell tales.
    “Oh, fast, dirty sex, nothing prolonged in terms of involvement. I don’t have time.” She pushed her heavy hair back from her face, watching for his response. It was the truth. What would he think of her?
    “That doesn’t surprise me.”
    “Really?”
    “Perhaps you should make time.”
    “Perhaps I should.”
Where was he going with this?
    “How many times do you reach orgasm, when you have ‘fast, dirty sex’?”
    It felt as if the temperature had risen dramatically. “That’s a rather intimate question.”
    “I mean to be intimate with you, Lois.”
    He wasn’t kidding. His provocative questioning had her entire skin prickling. “Once, mostly,” she replied eventually.
    He nodded. “I’d like to see you come more than once. You deserve better than that.”
    If he’d wanted to grab her attention, he’d certainly found the way. Up