Chapter 34
The song fades into the next, but neither of us pulls away. As soon as we part, this moment will end. And right now, I wish that time would stop entirely, leave us suspended here in the almosts and maybes.
How did we get here? I wonder, but I don’t care enough to dwell on it. The how doesn’t matter. All that matters is the way he holds me so tightly that it heals something in me that I didn’t realize was broken, the way we fit so perfectly together when we couldn’t be more different.
I lift my head to look up at him, like I want to make sure he’s real, and his chin tilts down so he can meet my gaze. The golden light of the sunrise illuminates the space around us, only serving to pull me deeper into this surreal moment.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“You,” I answer. “Us.”
His expression remains the same, but the hitch in his breath gives away that he cares more about that one word than he’s letting on. Us.
“Care to elaborate?”
How could I possibly explain the whirlwind of emotions flooding my heart? Putting into words what I’m feeling would be nearly impossible.
So, I don’t explain. Instead, I stand on my tiptoes, lean forward, and kiss him.
It’s not a soft, exploratory kiss like last time. This kiss tells him everything I want to say but can’t bring myself to admit. All the pent up passion, tension, and desire ignite the moment my lips meet his.
In an instant, his arms tighten around my waist as he kisses me back with just as much fervor. No holding back, no hesitation.
My breath is stolen from my lungs as he takes slow steps forward, pushing me until I’m backed up against the wall. My lips part slightly, and his tongue tangles with mine as he claims me.
When his body presses against mine, it’s impossible to ignore the hard bulge straining against his pants.
His voice is strained and husky when he says, “We shouldn’t do this.”
“I know,” I whisper, “but I want to anyway.”
He looks conflicted for a moment before saying, "I should probably go take a shower."
Rejection sinks like a stone in my stomach, but before the feeling can settle, he adds, “Would you like to join me?”
I don’t even think before I answer, “Yes.”
He takes my hand, leading me through his bedroom and into the attached bathroom. It’s decently sized, with a simple black-and-white color scheme. I shut the door behind me as Ambrose turns the shower on, and my heart skips a beat when he approaches me.
It’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this—anything remotely sexual that wasn’t a perfunctory way to appease my husband—but this feels anything but obligatory.
Ambrose stops a few inches away from me, and his fingers graze the hem of my shirt before slowly lifting it. I raise my arms so he can pull it off, and the cool air against my skin makes me acutely aware of every inch of exposed skin.
“So beautiful,” he whispers as he traces the curves of my hips with his fingertips. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I fidget under his intense gaze.
He takes his time undressing me with slow, deliberate movements.
Every touch sparks against my skin, and once I’m naked from the waist up, he sinks to his knees, kissing down my stomach until he can’t go any further without fabric in the way.
He hooks his fingers over the waistband of my sweatpants and slips them down my legs, until I’m standing completely bare before him.
Desire and anxiety coil together in my chest as his eyes rake over my naked body from where he sits on his knees, and his hands slowly glide up my legs, over my hips, and up to my waist. His touch lingers on my skin even as he pulls his hands away.
He stands and steps back, watching me the entire time as he undresses himself.
God, he’s beautiful. Every inch of skin he exposes is more perfect than the last, and when he steps out of his pants after they’ve fallen to the ground, I allow myself the same pleasure of taking in the vision of him fully nude.
The evidence of his hard work outdoors shows in the lean muscles straining against his skin.
He takes my hand again, leading me into the shower. The water is warm, the steam rising in around us like a thick fog that shrouds us from reality.
We stand beneath the stream of water, and I watch as rivulets snake down his body while reveling in the heat. I just took a shower a few hours ago, but there’s something so comforting about the feeling of hot water cascading over me, and something irresistibly enticing about joining Ambrose.
He lathers his hands with soap before he turns me around and cups my shoulders.
He massages my back in slow circles, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles and making me bite back the sounds threatening to pass my lips.
He takes his time kneading the knots in my shoulders and back until I can hardly stand.
The sensation is overwhelming in the best way, with the lack of sleep weighing me down and the tension leaving my body until my limbs are loose and limp.
I could almost fall asleep right here, but my need for him overshadows everything else.
His hands shift, and he slides them across my skin, down my back, around my hips, and up my stomach.
His fingertips trail over my skin, and I hold my breath until he reaches my breasts.
He cups them, using his thumb to flick over my nipples until they’re peaked and sensitive.
I arch my back into him, letting out a soft moan as he repeats the movement over and over again.
Tension builds in my core, and just when I’m close to begging for more, his right hand trails lower, skimming over my stomach again before slipping between my thighs.
His fingers press against my clit with firm, circular motions, and I cry out as I reach forward to steady myself against the wall, though my slight bend forces my ass backward and against his hard cock. Not that I mind. I want him so badly it hurts.
The tension inside me winds tighter with every pass of his fingers, my skin flushed and my breathing shallow.
I whimper when he threads his fingers through my hair and tugs, forcing my head back as the hot water cascades down my back.
With one hand gripping my hair and the other working between my legs, his touch is relentless. Pleasure consumes me as I spiral toward my orgasm. I’ve never been touched like this, never been claimed with a mixture of such possession and care. And fuck, it feels good.
Every nerve in my body is on fire, and I nearly collapse when my orgasm wracks my body, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over me. My muscles tighten with the intense pleasure overwhelming my senses, and Ambrose’s fingers work my clit until I’m a breathless, whimpering mess.
My legs shake when he finally pulls his hand away, and he gently spins me and grips my waist to hold me upright as I come down from the high.
Ambrose presses his lips against my shoulder with a tenderness that makes me want to collapse in his arms and never let go.
I press myself against him, laying my head against his chest while he strokes my wet hair.
Steam from the hot water envelops us, and in this moment, we’re in our own little world where nothing can break us.
I could almost fall asleep right here with the exhaustion from the day pressing down on me, but his erection is impossible to ignore…
Reaching between us, I hesitantly trail my fingers over his stomach before wrapping them around the base of his cock.
He lets out a low, throaty noise but says, “You don’t have to.”
“I know. I want to. Please.”
He nods, and I tighten my grip slightly. His shaft pulses beneath my touch, and the immediate sensation only spurs me on.
Ambrose’s eyes close, and his head falls back as I begin to stroke him slowly. I linger at the tip, teasing the sensitive ridge with the pad of my thumb, which causes him to suck in a sharp breath.
I sink to my knees before him, desperate to taste him, to give him the same carnal pleasure he gave me. Leaning in, I drag my tongue along his length, loving the low growl of approval it elicits from him.
When I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, he groans softly, and I’m emboldened to ease him deeper into my mouth.
It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, and much longer since I’ve done it with this much desire.
My throat constricts around him as I slowly find a rhythm, taking him as deep as I possibly can.
“That’s right, baby. You’re doing so fucking good,” he praises, as if he can hear the insecurities lingering in my mind, and his words shoot straight to my core. I don’t even remember the last time I was this aroused, let alone after already having one orgasm. What is this man doing to me?
He shouldn’t make me feel this good, yet he does. But right now, I can’t find it in me to care.
I pull back for only a moment, taking a deep breath before suctioning my lips around him and sucking his cock like my life depends on it. My head bobs back and forth, and his fingers tangle in my hair once again, the slight pressure from his hand enough to guide me but not enough to be forceful.
Ambrose’s hand tightens in my hair, his breathing becoming more erratic as he thrust his hips to meet me.
I manage to glance up at him, and he’s the perfect image of beauty and sin—his eyes are hooded, his dark, wet hair falling over his face, and streams of water running down his torso as he fucks my throat.
“Brielle, I’m going to come in your mouth if you don’t stop.”
I don’t pull away. I want to watch him come undone because of me.
With a low moan, his cock pulses and he comes in my mouth. I swallow eagerly, reveling in the lewdness of it all.
When his grip loosens in my hair, I slowly withdraw, wiping my mouth with my forearm and grinning up at him. He watches me as I stand, his dark eyes filled with lust, satisfaction, and a fleeting array of emotion that I can’t quite understand.
He pulls me in for a long, slow kiss, caressing my skin with reverence before pulling away.
With a playful smirk, he leans in to murmur, “Want to know a secret? I’ve wanted to feel your lips wrapped around my cock from the first moment you walked into this house, and that was a million times better than it was in my dreams.”
Pride swell inside me, and I shake my head at him feigning disapproval at his statement, though I can’t keep the smile off my face.
It takes a moment for us to come back down from the high, though our return to reality is quickened by the water cooling down with every passing minute.
Ambrose steps out of the shower first, quickly drying himself off and wrapping a towel around his waist before grabbing another. I wring as much water out of my hair as I can before stepping onto the bath mat, then hold out my hand to take the towel from him.
“Let me,” he says.
Ambrose closes the small distance between us and drags the fluffy towel over my shoulders, my torso, my legs.
He covers every inch of skin before standing back up and wrapping it around me.
I can’t help but stare into his eyes as he tucks the top piece of fabric in to secure it.
He’s so close, and a part of me still can’t believe this is real.
The exhaustion is hitting me hard, making me wonder if this is all a dream.
It’s not like this would be the first time he’s made an appearance in one of my dreams.
I don’t know if it’s reassuring or not that this is undoubtedly real. His caress is too tangible, his features too clear. His eyes are heavy with a combination of awe and affection, and it constricts my heart with unexpected emotion.
This is what it’s like to be cared for, I think. To feel safe and—dare I say—loved.
God, I shouldn’t even start thinking like that. To admit to loving him would mean admitting to a connection in spite of our circumstances—circumstances that he created. Could I ever truly love someone who took away my choice, who forced me into servitude like this?
I wish the answer weren’t so complicated.
Interrupting my thoughts, Ambrose surprises me by asking, “Will you sleep in my bed with me tonight?”
I immediately answer yes without considering what more it could mean.
Tonight, I don’t want to consider the consequences of my choices or the implications of our actions. All I want is to sink into bed beside him, forget the outside world, and pretend like this is the life I’ve chosen for myself.
So, that’s exactly what I do.