Chapter Seventeen
I’ll admit I wasn’t thrilled about you leaving to begin with, but you actually left without saying goodbye?
C
I open the email for the hundredth time that’s been sitting in my inbox before I even landed in France two days ago. I notice he’s sent it from what I assume is a personal email address and he’d sent it to my personal email that he must have gotten from my resume.
What did he want me to say?
It’s not like he didn’t know I was leaving. It’s also not my fault that he was in Seattle the day I left. I’m sitting at one of the many cafés on the same street as my temporary apartment staring at the words on the screen. I don’t know why I keep opening his email because I have it memorized at this point. I pick at the croissant in front of me, suddenly wishing I hadn’t ordered it; I’ve already had four in the two days I’ve been here. It’s going to be a long six months if I’m already overloading on carbs.
But fuck they are so good. They’re my weakness at home. I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist them here.
I fell in love with the look of this café instantly because it reminds me of one at home— Avery’s— which I know the owner modeled after a Parisian café.
I open the email again, finally deciding to respond because I’ve had two espressos and my caffeine anxiety won’t allow for it to go unanswered another second.
You said we weren’t doing the whole goodbye thing.
His reply is almost instant. It’s noon here which means it’s six in the morning at home— on a Saturday for that matter—so I’m shocked at the swift reply.
There she is. I was beginning to think you were ignoring me. It’s a good thing I’m getting updates, or else I’d think something happened to you.
I want to reply something sarcastic along the lines of something had happened to me. Him. But I decide against it because I’m the one that walked away. It’s strange, but I haven’t cried very much. Maybe because I haven’t let myself stop moving since he left my car that day. I went home, deep cleaned my room and three others in my house, listened to two audiobooks and started binge-watching Sex and The City immediately so I wouldn’t have to be alone with my thoughts, and then spent a week going through my closet as well as my mother’s and Autumn’s for a perfect wardrobe for Paris. I didn’t have time to be upset over our breakup.
Nope, I’m fine. Just been busy since I got here.
I type out as I lazily scroll through Instagram. He probably knows that’s a lie. We don’t technically start until Monday but they wanted us to get here a little early to get settled and adjust to the time difference. So, for the past two days, we’ve been on our own with optional dinners with the team every night.
Hope you’re having fun. But not too much.
Another email comes through a second later.
I miss you.
I don’t respond to that and the next day, while I’m taking a bubble bath in a tub worthy of an aesthetic Pinterest page, my phone beeps indicating a message. I set down the book I’m reading and grab my phone, sighing when I see that he’s texted me this time.
Chris: My apartment isn’t the same without you here. I hate sleeping in this bed without you.
Me: Are you alone?
I type out the message and send it before I can tell myself I shouldn’t ask because it’s not my business and I shouldn’t care.
Chris: Yes. I moved out. My lawyer is pushing for an official separation. We start counseling this week. We’ll see how that goes.
Me: Good luck with everything. I hope it works out the way you want it to.
Chris: That would mean I get the girl in the end.
Me: Which girl?
Chris: You know which girl.
Me: I have to go.
Chris: It’s almost eleven-thirty there and you have to be up early tomorrow. Where are you going? Or are you out?
Me: Those are a lot of questions that a normal boss wouldn’t be entitled to know.
Chris: Maybe, but your very jealous and possessive ex-boyfriend would like to know.
Me: Emphasis on the ex
Chris: Don’t make me come out there.
Me: Please don’t. I took this job to put distance between us. We need to get over each other.
Chris: I didn’t agree to that. I’d prefer you didn’t get over me.
Me: That’s not fair.
Chris: Why isn’t it? I’m not going to get over you. Am I an asshole because I want you to be miserable with me?
Me: I’ll submit that question to Reddit for confirmation, but I would say yes you are the asshole for that.
Chris: Ha. I know you went there for space which is why I told Beck I didn’t want toc ome out there this week. You’ll have to deal with him though so try not to get yelled at. If I keep defending you, he’ll start to suspect we’re sleeping together.
Me: We aren’t sleeping together.
Chris: Don’t remind me.
The next morning, I’m getting ready for my first day when there’s a knock on my apartment door. It’s barely seven in the morning, so I can only imagine it’s someone from the team asking if I want to walk to the office together. I open the door to someone holding a massive and gorgeous bouquet of white and pink tulips in a glass vase. The person lowers their face and I see Emma giving me a knowing grin as she walks through my apartment with them in her hand. Emma is from Beckham Securities as well, but she works in legal which is on a different floor, so we hadn’t met until the flight here. She’s a few years older than me and recently broke up with her fiancé. Well, I suppose he recently broke up with her. So apparently, she’s using this trip in a similar way that I am and while I didn’t give her any details, we bonded on the flight over here about our failed relationships.
“We’ve been in Paris less than a week and you already have someone sending you flowers?” She blinks her hazel eyes at me several times. “Where have you been going and why are you not taking me?!” She sets the vase on my counter and puts her hands on her hips. She’s wearing sunglasses perched on her nose and she’s looking at me from over the tops of them. She fits in so well in Paris, it’s almost like she’s from here. She pulls the sunglasses off her face and places them delicately on her head before she fusses with her bangs. An impulse decision in response to the breakup. Zero out of ten recommend, she says.
Emma is gorgeous and turned at least twenty guys’ heads just in the airport alone. With legs up to her ears, and always wearing no shorter than four-inch heels, she has the kind of skin that is sun kissed year round with raven-colored hair making it a conundrum where she’s from or what’s in her DNA.
For the record, I’ve seen pictures of her ex-fiancé. I don’t get it. But love or whatever.
I don’t see a card with the flowers, thankfully, so I go for the easy lie because I have an inkling as to who they’re from. “I think they’re from my parents. They know it’s my first day. Trust me, I haven’t met anyone here.” Well, that part is true.
“That is so freaking cute.” She runs her finger over one of the petals. “It’s been forever since someone has sent me flowers,” she muses sadly before turning to me. “Okay, I want to stop for coffee, so hurry up!”
While I’m in my room grabbing my coat because November in Paris is anything but warm, I text who I believe to be behind the flower delivery.
Me: Safe to assume the flowers are from you?
Again, he responds instantly. When does this man sleep? I guess it’s only one in the morning at home, but still.
Chris: Should I be worried about anyone else sending you flowers?
Me: You never know. I could have Parisian admirers.
Chris: I’ll bet you do. As long as I’m still your favorite.
I roll my eyes just as I hear Emma calling for me to move my ass .
Me: Thank you for the flowers.
Chris: Have a great day, beautiful.
Chris: Heard things are going well. Glad to hear it. I can’t stop thinking about you.
I’m sitting at lunch with Emma a few days later when his message comes through and I guess the smile that crosses my face is a dead giveaway because she squeals.
“Who has you smiling at your phone?” she asks, and when I look up, I see her straining to look at my screen from across the table. “And you expect me to believe your parents sent you those flowers?” She scrunches her nose and points her spoon at me before taking a bite of the best parfait I’ve ever had. “Let’s go out tonight.”
“It’s my ex,” I confess hoping that will get me out of trolling the streets looking for a European fling.
Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “All the more reason to go out! You said you guys were done.”
“I believe I used the word ‘complicated.’”
She readjusts her beret and cocks her head to the side. “‘Complicated’ just sounds like a fancy way to say we’re in that toxic in-between where we just go back and forth hurting each other on the path to breaking up.” She uses air quotes before she takes a sip of her sparkling water.
If Emma worked for any department other than legal, I may have trusted her to tell her about Chris, but I value my job. I also don’t know her well enough to know her stance on women sleeping with married men. Hell, I barely know my own stance on it.
“You’re right, but the feelings are still there.”
“They always are.” She sighs. “Garrett won’t stop calling ever since I got here. Probably assuming I’m already fucking my way through Paris.” She pushes a strawberry around her bowl. “I made a mistake, blah blah blah, but it’s a very firm fuck no and fuck you from me.”
“I wish I could be that firm.”
“Oh, honey, did he cheat on you with four different women?” She snorts. “Maybe I wouldn’t be if he wasn’t such a lying cheating asshole. Also, he’s not even good in bed! I don’t know how he got four women to consistently sleep with him.” She scoffs. “I had this so I had to by law,” she jokes holding up her middle finger with her enormous diamond engagement ring.
“Why are you still wearing your ring anyway?”
“Because it’s four and a half carats with perfect clarity and I haven’t decided what I want to do with it yet.”
“I get not giving it back, but why are you wearing it?” I raise an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes.
“It’s pretty.” She holds it up. “It’s not the ring’s fault that the person who bought it was awful. It’s too gorgeous not to show off.” She rubs it sadly before dropping it into her lap. “So…tonight?”
It’s only Wednesday and we have an early meeting on Thursday so I was able to convince her it would be a better idea to go out this weekend, which is why I’m home by seven-thirty doing yoga in my apartment. It is my favorite thing to do to relax but I’d stopped for a while and just recently incorporated it into my trying my best not to think about Chris plan. I get up from my mat when my phone starts to ring and see his name across the screen.
So much for my plan.
“Yes?” I answer and a chuckle from the other end makes my nipples hard. Fucker.
“Hello to you too.” I haven’t heard his voice in almost two weeks and now my mind is flooded with all of the times I’ve heard it. All those times he groaned low in my ear when he was about to come. The times he’d grunted out my name while he spilled inside of me. When he fucked my face and exploded down my throat. The times he’d stroked my hand and told me how beautiful I was while we had dinner.
“Why are you calling?”
“I’m checking in with my favorite employee.”
“Fuck off.” I want to hang up and my finger hovers over the end call button but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Trust me, I wish I could,” he says and I take a sip of my water wishing I had just let this call go to voicemail. “Are you thinking about me at all?”
“No,” I lie at first before I decide to go with the truth. “I mean…I am trying not to but you are making it hard.”
“I can’t help it. I wasn’t expecting to be cut off from you almost completely. I thought I’d still be able to catch glimpses of you in those dresses you wear or hear you laugh…maybe catch your smile during a meeting even if it wasn’t directed at me.”
“This is better.”
“For who?”
“Both of us.”
He sighs. “We started counseling.” I hear the clink of a glass and I wonder if he’s drinking.
“Isn’t it like three p.m. there? Isn’t it a little early for a drink?” I can hear the joke in my voice and I hate that I’m right back in it. Flirting with Chris Holt.
My boss.
My married boss.
Fuck me.
He laughs. “Careful. Nagging me over day drinking is girlfriend behavior.”
I grip the phone and try to calm my racing heart over the thought of being his girlfriend. No, Marissa. “I just mean…you’re at work.”
“I’m working from home.”
In the two months I’ve worked for Beckham Securities , I don’t think there was a day he wasn’t in the office so that’s surprising. “Are you sick?” I ask immediately, wondering if maybe that’s why he’s home for the day.
“No. We had our first session this morning and I just decided not to go to the office after.”
I try not to let myself think about him and his wife in therapy ‘working on their marriage.’ “Oh. I guess I’ve just never known you to not be in the office.”
“I used to work from home once a week, but then this new woman started working for me and I wanted to see her as much as possible.”
“You can’t be serious.” I chuckle.
“I’m always serious when it comes to you.” I can hear the smile in his voice and the question is sitting on the tip of my tongue. I know I shouldn’t ask but he did volunteer the information.
“How was…counseling? I mean…”
“Are we on the path to reconciliation?” He snorts. “Yeah, I’ll invite you to the vow renewal.”
I frown and narrow my eyes. “Did you forget who you were talking to?”
“No, did you?”
“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”
“My apologies, I’ll be clearer since maybe I wasn’t the first time. I don’t want to be in counseling. I want a divorce, but the woman I married is forcing me into this charade because she doesn’t want to divorce a man on track to join the Forbes List of billionaires. I also want to be with a woman—that’s you by the way—that not only works for me, but said wife knows about because I cockily didn’t do better at hiding the fact that I fell in love with my mistress. So, she told me she’d blow up her life if I didn’t give my girlfriend up. So, excuse me for drinking after a bullshit marriage counseling session and for my sarcasm.”
I blink my eyes several times because what did he just say?
“Wait, you’re in love with me?” I’m not going to beat around the bush or try to be coy over the fact that those words may have momentarily stopped my heart.
“Don’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”
“Can we stop the smartass remarks for one second, please?”
He sighs. “Yes.”
“To which question?”
“Both.” He sighs and then I hear the clink of ice against glass again.
“You’ve just never said it before.”
“It didn’t seem fair to tell you that when I wasn’t free to.”
“I feel like we hardly know each other,” I whisper. “I mean…past the sex.”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute and I pull my phone away from my ear in case the call dropped. “I think I know you pretty well. I know you like white tulips with pink and that you’ve probably had three croissants a day since you’ve been there. I know your coffee preferences, your drink preferences, what you like to eat, and what you’re like when you’re sick. I know you like to read smutty books in the bubble bath and that you like to take them with me.” His voice lowers. “By the way, are you enjoying the tub in your apartment? Do you think about me when you’re touching yourself in the bath? Do you miss sitting on the edge of the tub while I lick the water away from between your legs?” I don’t respond and he continues. “I know everything you like in bed. I know a lot about you, Marissa. I even know the things you haven’t quite figured out yourself yet.” I drop to the couch, yoga completely forgotten and I briefly wonder if he’s going to take this conversation in a more salacious direction.
“What haven’t I figured out?”
“That you like that I can’t leave you alone.” I go to protest when he beats me to it. “You could have ignored my call, you know.”
“It’s still the work day in the States, it could have been about work,” I offer, but even I know that argument is weak.
“When have I ever called you about work?”
“Well, maybe you should. You call yourself my boss,” I quip.
“Imagine if I wasn’t. It would be much harder for me to take care of you while you’re there.”
I narrow my eyes curiously. “What does that mean?”
“Do you really think everyone has a thousand-dollar daily allowance?”
“That was you!” I shoot to my feet. I was shocked when I saw how much I was allotted for daily meals. “Chris, I don’t even put a dent in that every day.”
“Well, you should. Where have you been eating? Go somewhere nice. Take Emma.”
“Wha—how do you know I’ve been hanging out with Emma?”
“I know everything.”
“Stop spying on me!” I tell him but somewhere deep in my subconscious, the thought brings me a bit of happiness that he’s so curious about how I’m spending my free time in Paris.
“Oh, relax, I’m not.”
“Don’t you tell me to relax. It sounds like you are and can we back up for a second? How did you get me such a high stipend? And isn’t that setting off alarm bells that I’m the only one?”
“No. I said anyone that reports directly to me needs that much.”
“I’m the only one here that reports directly to you!”
“Funny how that worked out.” He chuckles. “Though to be fair, Liam and Elise will be there in a few weeks and they’ll get the same. Feel better?”
“Not really. Are you spying on me?”
“No.”
“Christopher,” I warn.
“Fine. I may have looked at the cameras for the building and I see you two together most of the time.”
I dart my eyes around my apartment, suddenly very aware that I work for a security company. “Are there…cameras in my apartment? Don’t lie to me. I swear to God, Chris.”
“No.” He laughs. “I swear. I’m not that crazy. The cameras just show who’s coming in and out of the building. We own the building and it’s only for our employees, we just want to make sure everyone is safe.”
“So, if I brought a guy home, you’d know?”
“If you brought a guy home, I’d be on the first plane to Paris.” I can hear the growly edge in his voice and it has a direct line to my clit.
“Really, now? Should we test that theory?” I tease, and my pussy clenches at the thought of his jealousy.
“Let’s not.”
“Emma wants to go out tomorrow,” I tell him.
“Mmmhmm.”
“I think she wants to get laid.”
“Do you?”
I could torture him but he did just say he’s in love with me, so I decide to throw him a bone. “Yes, but the guy I’m interested in isn’t exactly available.”
I hear him exhale. “Is that so? Should I be worried about this guy?”
I snort in response. “That’s an awfully loaded question. Are you having an existential crisis?”
“Daily.”
I chew on my bottom lip as I try to think of something witty to say but I come up empty. “I can’t stop thinking about you either,” I tell him, referencing his comment from earlier. “But I can’t help feeling that I’m being stupid. That maybe this is just a right person, wrong time thing but we aren’t respecting it by still talking and flirting while you’re married. Especially now that it sounds like your wife is a bit of a ticking time bomb. What if she finds out you’re still talking to me? Does she know I’m here? If you have to come here, is that going to be tough for you?”
“I don’t care about what’s tough for me, Marissa. I care about you. And I hate that I can’t be with you. I hate that there may come a time when you’ll be over this because you’ll get tired of waiting. You’re twenty-one and gorgeous and smart and far too fucking charming and mature for someone your age, and I know there are men just waiting for you to be over me.”
My eyes well up with tears and before I can stop it, one slides down my face. I haven’t let myself dwell on this situation with Chris. I hadn’t cried other than briefly on the way home after we talked in my car because what use was there in crying? It’s a shitty situation that I have no control over, but hearing him tell me he’s in love with me and there’s nothing we could do about it for at least a year makes my heart feel like it’s cracking in my chest. A year feels like an eternity. “It’s really not fair.”
“You’re telling me.”
I pull the cork out of the wine I opened last night and pour myself a glass. I take a healthy sip of it as I contemplate what I want to say next. “I don’t know that a year is enough time to get over you…so maybe you’re safe.”
He lets out a deep breath that sounds like relief. “Best news I’ve heard all day.”
“You know, if there ever comes a time that you’re single and unattached…how are we going to tell people at work?”
“Once Wes realizes that you and the woman I slept with at Owen’s wedding are the same woman, he’s going to know that I’m serious about you.”
I smile. “I did that much of a number on you, huh?”
“Did you.” He chuckles. “I never told you this but I took one of your hair pins that night. You had your hair up with these silver hair things. I took one off the nightstand while you were sleeping.”
My mouth drops in shock as I remember that I couldn’t find one of them when I was leaving his room that morning. “Wanted a souvenir, did you? What if that was a family heirloom!”
“Was it?”
“No,” I chuckle, “but that’s not the point!”
“I wanted something to remind me that it happened. That it was real. That you were real. I’ve been carrying it with me in my pocket ever since.”
I gasp. “What?”
“That’s how Beck found out about you. Aside from the fact that I couldn’t shut up about you. Whenever I had too much to drink, I’d take it out and mess with it.”
“Wow.”
“Still think I can’t be in love with you?”
My throat feels suddenly dry and I take a long sip of my wine before licking my lips. “No.”
“Good. Now, tell me what you’re doing.”
“Well, I was doing yoga when you called.”
“I’m sorry I interrupted you, I’ll let you get back to it if you’ll let me watch.”
“You want to watch me do yoga?” I look down at what I’m wearing and I imagine most men wouldn’t mind watching a woman do anything while wearing skin-tight leggings and a bra.
“I’d watch you do anything.”
A wicked idea floats through my head and I drag my teeth over my bottom lip. “Okay, I’ll FaceTime you from my iPad in two minutes.”
“Really? Fuck, I haven’t seen your face in almost two weeks. Okay, I’m ready.”
No, you are definitely not.
I hang up the phone and strip out of my clothes leaving me completely nude before propping my phone up on the coffee table and in perfect view of everything. I start the call but I’m not in the frame.
“Let me see that gorgeous—” He starts but immediately stops talking when he sees my bare ass walking towards my mat. I turn around and his mouth is ajar as his drink hovers near his lips. He takes a long sip before I see him bite down hard on his lip. Fuck, I see him mouth.
“Are you breathing?” I ask as I cock my head to the side and he shakes his head, his eyes still wide and unblinking. “You have seen me naked before, yes?”
He scratches his jaw and lets out a chuckle. “I am trying to talk myself out of getting on a plane right now.”
“No.” I shake my head before shutting my eyes and trying to center myself.
“That’s how you do yoga?”
I lift one of my legs to my knee in a tree pose as I put my hands over my heart. I open one eye to look at him. “Shhh.”
He lets out a breath. “You’re so fucking beautiful. And your body makes my dick fucking hard as a rock.”
I drop my leg and move into a different position, forcing one leg back into the warrior position. I’ve never gotten wet doing yoga before but I can feel his eyes trained on my pussy and I’m getting turned on by my exhibitionism. We’ve only been on for a minute but I can already see him adjusting himself in his seat.
“Take it out,” I tell him as I move closer to the camera and move into the goddess pose which completely opens me up.
“Fuck.” I hear him grit out and then I see that he’s propped his phone up somewhere and I hear the sound of his slacks being unzipped. “You have the most gorgeous cunt, baby. I’d do anything to taste it right now.”
He pulls his shirt off leaving him completely naked as well and I’d somehow forgotten how chiseled his body is. “Your body is insane,” I whisper as I continue on to another stretch.
I turn my back to the camera giving him a view of my ass before bending over into a stretch called forward fold that’s basically downward dog but my legs are spread giving him a very up-close look at my wet pussy. “Fuck me, you’re wet,” he grits out. “Does your pussy always get hot from yoga?”
I look at him from between my legs. “When I have an audience.”
Jealousy flashes across his face and he runs his tongue over his teeth. “I better be the only person in your fucking audience.”
I move one hand up my leg slowly and let it ghost over my pussy before I stand up just as a guttural groan comes from the screen. I turn around to face my iPad and I watch as his hand slowly pulls at his dick as he drags his eyes slowly up my body. “Your nipples are hard.”
They are aching at this point, and when he licks his lips, they pebble even harder under his gaze like they’re desperate to feel his tongue. “I want to run my lips over them…and then my teeth. I want to leave bite marks all over them.” His eyes meet mine and a smile pulls at his lips. “Touch them.”
I do as he says and roll both of my nipples between my index finger and thumb. My sex is getting slicker and I want him to instruct me to touch it so badly. “What else do you want to do?”
“Every. Fucking. Thing.” He runs his hand from root to tip with each word. “Sit down and spread your legs.” I do as he says and adjust the iPad so he has a better view. I open my knees and it feels almost obscene how wet I am. “Look how gorgeous you are.” The lips of my sex are slightly spread and I can feel my clit pulsing with each passing second. “Put your fingers in your pussy. Don’t touch that hot little clit yet.” I groan in frustration because fuck I’m close and I know just a few brushes against my fingers will have me coming already. “I know you want it, but not yet.” I put two of my fingers inside of me, careful not to rub my clit even though I’m dying to. “How’s that feel?” he asks and I nod.
“It would feel better if they were your fingers, but it’ll suffice,” I tell him and he begins to pull harder on his dick.
“Fucking hell, I wish. I can almost feel how wet you are just by looking at you. I love when you drip down my hand while I’m fingering you.”
“I never…really liked fingering until you,” I tell him as I continue to move my fingers slowly in and out of me. “I love your hands.”
“Well, they love being buried in your wet cunt.” He leans forward. “Almost as much as my tongue does.” My sex gets even wetter and I feel a wave of butterflies moving south. “Kiss me.” I bite my bottom lip and he raises an eyebrow sexily.
“Where?”
“My pussy.”
“Fuck yes. I’d devour your fucking pussy if I were there. Would have you screaming while you came all over my tongue. Start at your opening and drag your fingers slowly upwards to your clit.” I do as he says. “Good girl.”
Fuck.
“That’s me dragging my tongue through your slit. How’d it feel?”
“Amazing,” I whisper through a shaky breath.
“Now rub your clit. Slowly.” I start doing it, already feeling my body building when he speaks again. “Stop.” His nostrils flare sexily and his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip and I almost convulse at the thought of him licking me fucking anywhere. “Use one hand to open yourself up, I want to see everything.” I swallow, slightly nervous at the thought of being so completely exposed to him. “Don’t be nervous.” He gives me an encouraging smile. “If I were there, I’d do it myself.” And this is true; he did have a habit of spreading me open while he ate me out, so I don’t know why this feels different. Almost more intimate.
I nod and open myself up to him, spreading the lips of my sex and it suddenly feels like the most erotic experience of my life. “So perfect,” he whispers and I watch as he takes another long sip of his drink. “God, I want to fuck you.” He nods at me. “Use your other hand to rub your clit. Do it slow.” He begins to fuck his hand again and I drop my eyes away from his hungry eyes to his fist pumping his dick. “That’s right,” he groans. “I’m giving you long, languid strokes. You think you like it fast, and sometimes you do…but you come the hardest when I lick you slow and hard. Right now, you’d be pressing your cunt harder against my mouth.” He lets out a breath. “I can almost taste you on my tongue right now, Marissa. Fuck me.”
“Do you like my taste?” I whisper.
“Fucking love your taste. Would die for it right now.” His eyes shut and he lets out a groan. “Christ, I miss you.”
“Me or my pussy?”I respond cheekily.
“Both. I miss you , but the fact that you’re attached to the only pussy I’ve ever been addicted to doesn’t hurt,” he says and a smile pulls at my lips.
I stop rubbing myself for a second. “That was both kind of romantic and hot.”
“My specialty.” He grins and I roll my eyes as his gaze drops to my cunt. “Keep going. I need you to come.”
I go back to rubbing, pushing myself closer to the edge. My eyes flutter closed as I feel my climax brewing beneath my skin and a moan rips through his throat. “Open your eyes, let me see you.”
I shake my head. “I can’t…I’m too far…” My mouth drops open, feeling the first wave of my orgasm wash over me.
“Tell me how it feels. Tell me how good my mouth feels.”
“So fucking good,” I moan.
“Good girl. I’m going to suck your clit into my mouth now. Pinch it for me, honey.” I do as he says. My body lets go of the mounting tension and my orgasm hits me hard and fast. My clit quivers under my fingers and I hear a groan that sounds more like a growl and then an almost pained, “Oh my god,” and then nothing else registers except for how good my fingers feel on my clit. I don’t know how long my orgasm goes on, but eventually, I stop pulsing and my eyes flutter open. His blue orbs are locked on my face. He drops his gaze between my legs and then back up to me. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He rubs his jaw and lets out a chuckle. “And I spent most of my adolescence watching porn.” He sits back on the couch, his dick still hard and pointed straight up but his hand is no longer touching it. “You get so wet and…your clit was…” He lets out a breath. “I will never get that image out of my head.”
I giggle. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”
“So fucking much.”
I grin just before I drag my wet fingers across my tongue, tasting myself. “I think it’s your turn to come now.”