Chapter 23 #2
He pulls at the back of his neck. “I don’t want to eat takeout every night, and I don’t like the idea of giving a stranger a key to my place.”
I nod. “I can understand that.”
After our glasses of wine, the conversation drifts.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask as his eyes turn dark and hold mine intently.
He massages his chin and leans back in his chair. His large body takes up so much more space. “I was thinking of our call the other evening.”
“I’ve never done anything like that before,” I admit softly, heat creeping into my cheeks. “It was … crazy. And somehow the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”
His gaze darkens. Drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
“Good,” he says quietly.
The words are heavy. The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s thick. Electric.
Every part of me is suddenly aware of how close he is. How easily he could reach out. How desperately my body wants him to.
And I know that if he touches me again, neither of us is walking away. Not after what I watched the other night. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, eyes remaining on me as he rests his head on his hand, elbow on the back of the chair.
I roll my eyes. “Let’s not pretend you don’t know what images I have in my head.”
He looks amused by my answer. “After we got off the phone …” He stops, like it’s nearly painful for him to remain seated. “What did you do?”
I feel the heat creep up my neck. It’s one thing when the attention is turned on him. When he’s the one being watched. He’s the one talking about masturbating.
But I mean, I’m only human. I was in a towel. He had just given me the most erotic experience of my life.
Of course, I masturbated after.
He doesn’t give me any time to answer though. He slides out of his seat, down to his knees, right in front of me. His warm hands touch my knees.
“Tell me, Mel”—his eyes turn dark, his voice deep— “did you touch that pretty pink pussy of yours?”
My teeth scrape my bottom lip as I nod my head, the words getting stuck in the back of my throat.
He moans while moving his hands up my legs.
“I’m going to let that one slide.” His hands slide to my hips, and he squeezes hard. Hard enough to leave marks. “But from now on … your pussy is mine. I get to play with it. If you need a release, you text me.”
He unbuttons my jeans, then slowly pulls at the zipper, exposing the top of my red lace underwear.
His eyebrows narrow as he slides my jeans down my hips and to my thighs. I lift my legs and let him glide them all the way off, and then I place my feet back on the ground, legs spread open.
I should be slightly embarrassed. He’s staring at me, and I’m on display. But all I feel is heat engulfing my body as I wait.
“I’ve thought about tasting your pussy every single day since I touched you in my office,” he admits as he trails his fingers gently back up my thighs.
He scoots in closer to me and rises up on his knees. He pulls my sweater up and over my head.
“Fuck, Mel,” he growls when he sees my bra. “You’re breathtaking.”
Then he places a soft kiss on my stomach, right above my belly button. It instantly sends a shiver down my spine.
I watch him as he drags his lips down to my hip and kisses there, then moves across my belly to the other side. He lowers himself and pushes my legs further apart. He stares at my pussy before kissing me on my clit over my panties, then licks.
I feel my jaw fall as I watch.
Why does every single move of his make my body react so strongly?
“Do you want me to lick you, Mel?” he asks.
I didn’t realize this was a question that needed an answer, but I see anger take over his face when I don’t.
I swallow hard. “Yes,” I whisper.
He nods. “Good girl. That’s what I want to hear.”
With his thumb, he pulls my panties to the side. I can already feel how wet I am, and he confirms it.
“Baby, you are dripping for me.” He moves his thumb from my folds up to my clit, dragging my arousal with it.
Then he pushes it back and forth over my clit, and the feeling makes me wiggle in my chair. The moment he licks me with no barrier, my hips rise off the chair as I gasp.
He groans and grabs my hips, pulling me fully against his mouth. With his lips pressed against me, his tongue works magical circles around my clit. I grab the back of the chair with my hands as I begin to pant.
His eyes hold mine, making the entire thing more intimate. His green eyes are mesmerizing. More than that is just how much he seems to be into what he is doing.
He lifts my legs and swings them over his shoulders, scooting me further down the chair as he sucks on my clit with excellent pressure and precision.
Once he places his fingers inside of me and curls them up, it’s over. I come harder than I thought possible. I’m slightly mortified when he pulls away and I see his face is covered and dripping in my release.
He wipes his chin. “Fucking perfect.”
When he stands up, his dick is pressing through his jeans. I don’t think; I just do. I do what my instincts tell me to do. Act without second-guessing myself.
I reach for his jeans and undo them. He stands perfectly still, looking down at me with curiosity. I push him back against the glass window and fall to my knees. There’s something freeing about pushing a man with as much money and power as he has against the window.
With one big tug, I bring his jeans and boxer briefs down to his ankles. I nearly lose my balance. His dick is even bigger in person.
I’m slightly afraid that it’s too thick to fit into my mouth.
He cocks a knowing grin. “It’ll fit, Mel.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this, but I feel completely safe with him.
My hand reaches up and wraps around his base. My fingers can’t wrap around all of him, but I do the best that I can. He flinches the second I touch him. It’s odd to see him so affected by me.
I feel powerful.
Then I open my mouth and circle his tip with my tongue. He growls a guttural sound deep from his chest, then runs his hands through my hair and grabs a fistful of it.
He doesn’t pull on it or force me, but he squeezes like he needs something to anchor him.
I move the tip around the outline of my lips, letting the bead of cum that drips out to cover me like ChapStick.
“Fucking hell, Mel.”
I smile, then wrap my lips around him and glide him all the way to the back of my throat. His head falls back against the window for a second, like it’s too much to watch.
But I don’t stop. I suck as much of him as I can while my hand remains at the base, stroking the part that doesn’t fit. I try to get him so far back that I gag several times, which only seems to spur him on more, making him cuss and moan.
“I’m gonna come,” he says through heavy breaths.
I meet his eyes and continue to suck so he knows where I want it. When he sees my approval, he explodes inside of my mouth. I take it all down greedily like a starved animal, swallowing every last drop, and then I back off him and wipe my mouth and chin.
I slowly lift my gaze up to him, still catching my breath.
He isn’t smirking. Isn’t teasing.
He’s just … staring at me. Like he’s trying to memorize the sight of me kneeling here, in his penthouse, hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes dark with a flicker of wonder.
His jaw is tight. His pupils blown. One hand curls at his side, like he doesn’t trust himself to touch me again just yet.
And for a moment, I feel powerful in a way I haven’t in years.
Not because of what we did, but because of the way he’s looking at me now. Like I’ve shaken control loose inside him. Like he’s realizing he can’t go back to who he was before he touched me.
He exhales slowly, a rough sound that makes my chest ache.
“Come here,” he says quietly, not as a command this time, but an invitation.
I step into him, and he presses his forehead to mine, lingering there like he needs the contact to ground himself. Like he’s holding on to this moment instead of rushing past it.
And as his hands settle at my waist, they are warm and steady. I realize I’m not as broken as I thought.
This isn’t simply about desire.
It’s about being touched again. Being wanted again. Letting myself feel alive in a way I was terrified I’d lost forever.
I close my eyes and let myself stay right here, in the space between who I was … and who I might be becoming.