Chapter 6
Chapter six
Chloe
Past
Idon’t know where to put myself. I try reclining on the couch, hair flicked dramatically over the armrest—it feels like a porn parody. I flop onto the bed, trying out a few poses, but everything feels forced. I’ve never been nervous with a client.
When the door finally opens, I’m standing awkwardly near the bed, naked and feeling far too self-conscious for my own good.
Z steps into the room, his dark eyes drifting down my body before meeting mine.
Oh, good lord.
He’s traded his sharp suits for sweats and a plain black T-shirt. His hair is tousled from the wind, his stubble flecked with silver. He looks so much better like this—undone and effortless.
I didn’t know if I should be in lingerie or a silky robe—something that says, “fantasy,” even though tonight feels…
different. Le Jardin only happens on Saturdays, but tonight?
It’s mid-week, a one-on-one booked by Madame Anna herself.
Ten thousand dollars extra for an evening with Z. I’d be a fool to say no.
The idea of Z has been living rent-free in my head for weeks.
All I can think about is the weight of him on my tongue, and the ache to hold him in my mouth.
Whenever I’m working, my eyes stray to the door, hoping he’ll walk in.
A dangerous little crush, and a reminder that getting attached to a client is the fastest way to lose yourself in this job. Or to lose your job.
I assumed he had forgotten all about me as I haven’t seen him since. But here he is, looking like every dark, sleepless fantasy I’ve had.
“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” I tease.
“Why would I?” he counters, closing the distance between us. His hands settle lightly on my arms as he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.
It’s gentle. Familiar.
But not what I want.
Disappointment curls her cold fingers around my chest.
“You haven’t been back to Eden in a while.” It comes out as an accusation, not a question, and I have no idea why I said it—my mouth’s running ahead of my brain. I need a better filter.
“Have you been looking for me, Gigi?” His sly smile is wicked.
“Maybe.” I shrug.
He runs a hand through his messy hair, shoulders sagging. “Work’s been brutal. I haven’t had a proper night off in weeks.”
Now that he mentions it, the circles under his eyes seem darker.
“Thought we could do something different tonight,” he suggests. “I’ve got admin to catch up on, and I haven’t slept properly in days. Maybe you could help take the edge off.”
“Of course. What do you have in mind?”
“Relax. Hang out. And… if you’re up for it—cockwarming.”
I blink. “Cockwarming? You’re serious?”
“It’s been on my mind. And… making you happy makes me…” He pauses, searching.
“Happy?” I take a guess for him, playful.
“I wouldn’t go that far… more like content,” he finishes with a small chuckle.
I grin. “How’d you convince Madame Anna to arrange a mid-week rendezvous?”
“A lot of cash,” he deadpans.
I laugh. “Sounds about right.” Madame Anna doesn’t bend the rules for anyone, unless there’s a very good reason.
I grab his hand, tug him over to the couch, and push him down until he’s sprawled against the cushions. “Relax. Get comfy.”
I kneel to untie his sneakers, slip them off one by one, then peel off his socks and prop his feet on the coffee table. I pour him a double of whiskey and hand it to him, loving the way he looks at me like I’m the best part of his day.
“Thank you.” His voice is croaky.
I smile. “Lean back. Let me take care of you.”
He tosses the drink back in one go and sets the glass on the table.
As he settles in, I circle behind the couch and place my hands on his shoulders. My fingers dig into the tight knots of muscle, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest.
“Fuuuck… that feels good.”
A satisfied smile graces my lips.
“Your fingers are heaven.”
“Shhh,” I whisper. “No talking. Just let go.”
I work his shoulders, thumbs pressing deep, gliding up the column of his neck to the base of his skull. Thirty minutes later, his head is slumped forward, eyes closed, mouth parted as his breathing slows. He’s asleep, but hunched like that? It’s not good for his back.
I kiss the nape of his neck. “Wakey wakey, Zaddy.”
His hand shoots up, grabs my wrist, and hauls me over the back of the couch into his lap so fast I squeak.
Shit, I thought he was asleep.
“That was incredible,” he rasps, the fine lines around his eyes crinkling. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
I shrug. “Just something I picked up.” Muscle anatomy is one of the first things they teach in med school.
We’re close enough to kiss, and I feel the pull in every fiber of my being, but he doesn’t close the gap. I get it. Kissing’s intimate in a way that Eden’s rules don’t always cover.
“You said you had admin to do?” I say to break the tension.
“Yeah.” He pats my ass lightly. “Ten to twenty minutes. We’ll see how you like it and how your jaw feels.”
My pulse kicks up. “I’m in.”
“On your knees.”
I slide between his thighs as he pulls off his shirt and kicks off his sweats. I bite my lip. He’s all hard lines and muscle, every inch of him cut and defined—and I’m definitely not disappointed that I’m seeing him naked for the first time. His cock—thick and angry—makes my lips part on instinct.
He reaches into his bag, pulls out his phone, and raises an eyebrow. “Ready?” I nod, already wet at the thought of being used like this. I wonder just how much extra he slipped Madame Anna to get electronics in here.
He feeds his shaft to me slowly, one hand on the base of his cock, the other tangled in my hair.
“Mouth so hot,” he groans.
I can’t help it. I start to suck, head bobbing instinctively.
“Ah ah,” he warns, pulling back slightly. “No sucking. No moving.”
I slip off his cock. “Shit, I forgot!” I huff a laugh. “Let’s try again.”
He guides me back onto his cock, and this time, I let him fill me, thick and heavy on my tongue.
I shift into a more comfortable position, resting my head against his thigh, breathing him in.
I want to be perfect for him, to show him I can be more than just another warm mouth—someone he can trust to relax around.
The taste of him, the weight of him—I’ve been waiting for this since our first night together at Le Jardin.
My knees adjust into a mermaid position, and I let the moment ground me.
“Comfy?”
I nod, not wanting to pull away. My jaw aches a little, but it’s a sweet kind of pain.
“I’m going to catch up on emails. I’ll check in at the twenty-minute mark.” I just bob my head—what else can I do? “And you can stop anytime you need to.”
I can’t believe I’m living out one of my favorite kinks, and he’s not just indulging me—he’s paying me for it. We’re supposed to be working through his fantasies, not mine.
He thumbs at his phone, typing while I try to stay still, his cock hot and velvety on my tongue.
Saliva fills my mouth, and I swallow around him, fighting the instinct to suck.
It’s harder than I expected to hold him there and not take him deep.
My job isn’t to get him off—it’s to keep him warm, to let him feel me wrapped around him.
My mind drifts. To tomorrow’s to-do list. The medical journals on my reading list. Whether I need to overhaul my skincare routine.
“Fuck, Gigi,” he groans. “No moving. I swear I’ll come down that pretty little throat of yours if you don’t behave.”
Shit.
I stifle a laugh, remembering to keep still.
I make a conscious effort to clear my mind and stay present.
Steady breaths, slow and deliberate. I swallow again, running my tongue lightly along his length, savoring his taste.
He’s softened a bit, no longer a steel rod, but a gentle presence against my tongue.
I love him like this—warm and heavy, but not completely hard.
I breathe in his scent, my mind blissfully blank. All I focus on is the sweet, simple pleasure of holding him in my mouth, of providing him with this quiet service. My body eases, one muscle at a time until I’m completely relaxed, eyes closed, and finally at peace.
Time slips away. Every now and then, he runs his fingers through my hair, stroking absently. It’s almost tender. It’s less like he’s using me and more like he’s letting me in—each absent-minded touch a silent promise that he sees me.
Eventually, he sets his phone down, leans back, and closes his eyes, his hand resting on my head. I’m floaty, my body soft and pliant. I could stay here forever, safe in the heat of him.
“You good?” he whispers.
The phone vibrates, jarring the stillness, and he picks it up. He types something out, puts it down again.
I hum a yes around his cock, and he smiles, lids heavy. “Attagirl.”
A few moments later, he pulls me off him. I’m half-asleep, lips swollen and wet. I release his cock, slurping around it, swallowing the excess saliva.
“Did you like that, little one?”
I lick my lips, dazed. “I feel like I took a power nap. How long was that?”
His grin is indulgent. “Forty minutes. Didn’t have the heart to bring you out of it.”
“Could’ve been four hours or forty seconds,” I sigh through a stretch, smiling.
A thumb grazes my bottom lip, lingering.
“Gigi,” he says gently. “I wish I could stay, but I’ve been called in.”
My smile fades. “Oh.”
He frowns. “Next time, okay?”
“Let me make it up to you before you leave,” I rush out. I don’t wait for him to answer. Quickly, I take him back into my mouth, sucking him deep and fast, tongue working him over. I don’t hold back.
“Fuck,” he groans, hands fisting my hair. “You have no idea how much I wanted to bury myself in your throat. It was pure torture to keep still.”
I smirk around him, determined to wring every last drop from his cock.
I’m a woman on a mission—he might have somewhere to be, but I’m not letting up until I’ve tasted every bit of his release.
Because when he looks at me like that—like I’m his escape—it’s worth every ache in my jaw and every stolen breath.
My tongue and lips work in perfect sync, fingers teasing his balls until they draw tight.
With a long, low moan, he spills down my throat.
“Gigi…” he breathes, voice wrecked.
I swallow three times; there’s so much of it. At last I pull away, licking my lips.
He’s still catching his breath, eyes glazed, mouth open.
“Holy shit,” he says, half-laughing.
I just smile, staying on my knees, waiting for him to collect himself.
He cups my cheek, stroking softly with his thumb. “I have to go.”
“Will I see you again?” My damn motor mouth doesn’t know when to shut it.
“Absolutely,” he says, and… I believe him.
He gathers his things and slips out the door. I stay on my knees, my lips tingling and a smile curling at the corner of my mouth.
There will be a next time—and I’m already counting the seconds.