Desperate Desires (Mergers & Acquisitions #3)

Chapter 20-Ono

I ’d never done anything like this.

Never felt a raging compulsion to see to someone else’s needs or desires.

But as I kneeled on the tiled floor of the shower and lifted the razor to Michelle’s legs a feeling of pure possession, of abject rightness, overwhelmed me.

I sucked in a breath, gliding that sharp instrument over her delicate, smooth skin.

Again and again, I repeated the motion.

Not because I wanted her to look a certain way. But because she’d said earlier that she preferred being shaved. And her preferences were my reason.

I rubbed the moisturizing butter over her thighs and calves, paying attention to what I was doing.

It was hard.

Because, well, so was I.

My cock ached at the beauty she presented, standing beneath the rain of water like a dark-skinned goddess.

She was so breathtakingly beautiful that it felt like the entire room shrank around her. As if the shower walls themselves were leaning in, captivated by her presence.

The air seemed thinner, the vibrance of the glass tile, even the light filtering through the windows—all of it faded into the background.

Michelle claimed all my attention, effortlessly drawing my gaze, every ounce of concentration was on her.

She was so damn deserving of it. It felt like gravity itself bent in her favor.

It wasn’t just the way she looked—though her beauty was undeniable—it was the quiet, magnetic pull of her presence, the kind of beauty that made you feel small and wonder struck all at once.

Touching her, watching her, I felt like the world had been reduced to her alone.

Brilliant.

Radiant.

And impossibly close.

Her eyelids were at half mast, but I felt her weighted stare trained on me, like she couldn’t believe what I was doing.

I didn’t blame her.

I couldn’t believe it either.

When had I ever willingly gotten on my knees for anyone?

Never. That was when. And yet, for her, it was a near constant thing.

Michelle was, well, she was my queen. I was spellbound, completely and helplessly captivated.

Mine. She is my wife.

My everything.

As soon as I had the thought, I knew it was true. I was beyond obsessed.

The first time I saw her, it was like the world had flipped on its axis. And after I’d touched her, well, there was no hope for it then.

I was drowning in my feelings for her.

No, I didn’t tell her those things, but that didn’t make them any less true.

I mean, I thought them.

I felt them.

So, they were real, right?

Damn right .

Obsession pulsed through my veins, fierce and unrelenting, like the very essence of my whole life driving me forward.

She consumed every thought, every breath, until she was all I could see—all I could ever want.

She was mine.

Finally, irrevocably mine, I thought, feeding my obsession with every slide of the razor across her flesh.

The weight of that truth settled over me, undeniable and absolute.

I would cherish her, protect her, shield her from the world if I had to.

I’d make sure she never felt an ounce of fear or pain as long as I lived.

I would always take care of her—body, mind, and soul. I would give her everything, even the broken pieces of myself, if that’s what it took.

And I would never hurt her. Not for anything. Not for anyone.

If I had to burn the world down to keep that promise, I would. Because she wasn’t just my obsession—she was my salvation.

And I’d fight heaven and hell to make sure she knew that.

I took the scissors, trimming her pubic hair after I’d shaved her inner thighs, and panty line carefully.

I was so fucking turned on by the fact she didn’t wax her sex. She said she liked herself shaved, and she was definitely neat.

But I liked my woman real, and there was nothing that turned me on faster than seeing and touching the soft curls between her thighs.

I loved every inch of her. All her curves, her hills and valleys, all those delectable, secret places I wanted to spend days exploring with my hands, lips, tongue, and teeth.

I grabbed her hips and turned her around, instructing her to lean on the wall.

“Ono,” she whimpered my name. Fucking whimpered.

I groaned my response. This whole shaving routine had worked my sweet Bellezza up. I’d heightened her arousal and made her pussy drip for me, and I felt like a conquering hero.

So fucking hot.

And I was there for it. So fucking there. I wouldn’t leave her hanging. Not ever. But I wasn’t done shaving her yet.

“Keep still,” I instructed, rubbing shave butter between her plump cheeks.

She hissed, and I leaned forward, kissing one side of her gorgeous ass before spreading her cheeks wide.

Fuck.

Her puckered hole was so goddamn pretty. I wanted to eat it. My cock ached to fuck it. And I would. Just not yet.

I spread her cheeks wider and shaved around her hole with gentle downward swipes.

When I was done, after I put the razor safely down, I leaned forward and pressed my tongue to her skin. Michelle moaned, dropping her head back, and I grinned and went back for more, eating her ass like the starving man I was.

“Oh fuck,” she hissed, slapping her hand against the tile.

“So good, Doc. So fucking sweet,” I growled, licking at her and grabbing some of the bath oil I’d brought in with me to slick her up.

I rubbed my oiled hands all over her legs, thighs, hips, and ass, paying attention to my new target.

She moaned as I used my tongue on her, spreading her thighs so I could suck her from clit to ass.

It wasn’t enough. I needed more.

So, I sat down on my ass, turning around so my back was against the wall with Michelle hovering right above me.

Then I feasted.