Chapter 5 Aliénor
ALIéNOR
I slept through the night without waking once.
When I woke up, it was almost one in the afternoon because I’d gone to bed so late.
The butler either seemed to know not to wake me in the morning, or he didn’t know I was there yet.
I showered and got dressed before I sat on the couch and grabbed my laptop to continue the job search.
The door opened without announcement, and Luca stepped inside.
He was in nothing but those workout shorts and running shoes, all of his muscles thick with strength and plump with blood from his workout.
His skin shone from the exertion. He had a tumbler in his hand, probably a protein supplement to accompany his exercise routine.
I should protest the way he walked in without knocking, but this was his house, the four walls that kept me alive because of the man who resided within it. I closed my laptop and set it on the coffee table.
“Text me when you want me. Don’t come to my door.”
Like the way he’d just barged into mine?
“I don’t have a schedule, but I mostly work nights.”
“Alright.” I kept my eyes on his and didn’t let them drift elsewhere. I’d been with good-looking men who were fit, but never a man who looked like him. Not with arms the size of my head, with shoulders thick as a bedpost. And the veins on his arms and up his neck…they did something to me.
“Ask Andre for anything you need.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket then fired off a text, probably sharing his contact info. “One of my drivers can take you anywhere you need to go.” He turned away like the conversation had concluded.
I didn’t just find sanctuary, but luxury—luxury I hadn’t known in a long time. “When are you leaving?”
He turned back to me before he opened the door. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at the question. “I have a meeting at seven.” Without waiting for my explanation, he walked out of my bedroom and returned to his.
It was around five when I texted him. Can I come by? It seemed silly to text him when he was just down the hallway, but his house, his rules.
The dots and his answer were instant. Yes.
A jolt of unease swept through me, the kind of tension I’d felt right before I’d given a presentation in front of the class in school. My chest was tight and my breaths were constricted. But I reminded myself I’d done this before. Done more for less.
I didn’t knock before I entered his bedroom.
Mine was spacious and beautiful, with a bed and a seating area in front of the fireplace.
But his primary suite was bigger than most apartments.
It had a full sitting room in front of a big TV, a dining table near the large windows that showed the city, and his actual bedroom was in a different room.
He was on the couch in front of the TV, a decanter of scotch in front of him, along with a bucket of ice.
In his hand was a glass with ice cubes at the bottom, and when his eyes flicked to me, it almost slipped from his hand.
On instinct, he grabbed it again, but an ice cube dropped to the rug beneath his feet.
He was jolted because I was in nothing but a black thong.
The slip of his hand was the only reaction he gave. His expression remained as hard and collected as ever, and his eyes were locked on mine like he didn’t want to look at me the way I tried not to look at him when he came into my room after his workout.
The fire burned in the fireplace underneath the TV and cast his room in a glow. It was still light outside, but the curtains were almost entirely closed and blocked out the sunlight that would cast a glare on his screen.
Barefoot, I sauntered into his living room, my core tight and my tits up.
When I came closer, his eyes moved down and over me. He set the glass on the table and leaned back, his gaze slowly trailing over my body with a fine-toothed comb. He was in his sweatpants and nothing else, hard muscles under beautiful skin, veins popping like rivers on a map.
I moved over him right away, knees hitting the couch, thighs straddling his hips. In a fluid motion, I was on him, my lips catching his like our mouths were a pair of magnets, and I kissed him like I’d die if I didn’t have him.
He didn’t hesitate at our union. He reciprocated with the same fire, as if my flames had set him ablaze.
His hand dug into my hair, and he kissed me the way he had at our last goodbye.
A smoldering kiss with tongue and breath.
For a man of few words and even less emotion, he was an expressive lover, full of passion and affection.
He wasn’t afraid to grip me and touch me, to pull me close, like whatever I gave him wasn’t enough.
Both of his hands moved to my ass, and he squeezed my cheeks before they slid to my waist, and he grabbed me there, his thumbs pressing flat over my stomach and belly button. I had a piercing there, and I knew he liked it when he rubbed his thumb over the metal that dangled.
When the flames started to spread and burn the hillside, I pulled away.
His reaction was so quick, I would have missed it if I hadn’t been looking for it. He looked livid when I pulled away, like he wanted to grab me by the neck and force me back.
I left his lap and expertly sank to the floor between his knees.
He inhaled a noticeable breath when he realized my intention. For a man who probably got head all the time, he seemed particularly enthused he was about to get it now. His hips rose when my fingers dug into his sweatpants and tugged them down, taking the boxers too.
Just as massive and plump as his arms, his fat dick lay against his stomach, a thick vein below the tip all the way down to the base.
I pulled his bottoms over his ankles so I could scoot in close.
“Now I know where that arrogance comes from.” I palmed his muscular thighs and slowly slid my hands up, my nails teasing him a bit, making his cock twitch as I came closer.
My long hair was around my shoulders, and my tits were firm as I felt the draft when I pulled away from his heat.
He stared at my tits like he liked them as much as I liked his dick.
I dipped my head into his lap, and instead of going for the shaft, I pressed a kiss to his balls.
He sucked in a breath and let out an involuntary moan. Deep and quiet, like the low growl of a bear.
I dragged my tongue over his groomed balls, eyes lifted and locked on his.
His eyes hardened as he stared at me, watching me lick his sac like it was a lollipop.
I dragged my tongue up his base and toward the shaft, and I felt his entire body move when he inhaled a breath of pleasure. I moved slowly toward the head, gripping his dick to keep it in place, a cock harder than steel.
I licked the head then pressed a kiss to the top. “Thank you.” I gently pulled his shaft toward me and extended my tongue to draw him inside me.
His pupils dilated as he watched. He slid his hand underneath my hair and pulled it from my face like he didn’t want anything to interfere with the pleasure he was about to receive.
I sheathed his dick as far as I could take it, controlling my gag reflex like a pro, because I was. Over and over, I moved, at a slow pace that was about sensation rather than speed. All men loved a sloppy blow job, but they liked the slow burn that led up to it.
Every time I rose to his head, my eyes locked on his and I gave him my bedroom eyes, like there was no greater pleasure than being on my knees in front of him with his big dick in my mouth.
He remained still, one arm over the back of the couch, his hand still in my hair as he watched me take his enormous length like it was nothing. The pace of his breaths had increased, and he had a red tint just under his skin.
I came up and caught his dick between my tits before it could slap against his stomach. “Thank you so much—” my back was arched, and his wet length glided in the crease between my soft tits “—for letting me stay here.”
He gave another moan, but this one was almost angry, like he felt himself come apart and hated the loss of control.
His breaths had deepened even further, and his hands went to my tits, moving my hands out of the way, and he guided them over his length the way he liked, as if he was grabbing my hips and fucking me.
He started to thrust his hips slightly upward.
“You saved me.” Every time his dick moved up, I dropped my chin and swiped his head with my tongue.
He was red all over, his dick so hard I would think it were steel if it weren’t so warm.
“You’re my hero.” Nothing turned on a man more than playing to his ego, and I knew Luca had a huge ego. My brief interactions with him told me that much. “And I’m so grateful to be on my knees for you—”
“Jesus.” He started to thrust harder, started to tug me more forcefully.
“You want to come on my face…but I’d love it if you’d come in my mouth.”
He sucked in an unexpected breath that nearly made him choke. His hands left my tits, and he grabbed my neck as he guided me down in a rush, like he was about to explode if we didn’t hurry.
I flattened my tongue and took him faster than before, pushing him far back every time, eyes on him so I could watch him come.
He stared down at me, hand still knotted in my hair, thrusting up and panting.
His jaw began to clench, and the veins in his neck started to pop from the strain.
His entire body hardened, all the lines that separated his stacks of muscle deepening further.
He was the hottest guy I’d ever been with, and it really was a pleasure to make him explode like this.
His head rolled back for a second as he came, a deep moan ripping from his throat. He looked at me again as he gripped my neck and held me in place, his breaths skyrocketing when he exploded in my mouth.
I moaned loudly as he came in my mouth, as if every last drop was a turn-on.
He moaned in turn, his dick shoved deep in my throat, filling me with the mound of seed.
Despite the discomfort and the lack of air, I maintained my position and didn’t botch a moment that most other women couldn’t tolerate. I took it all and waited for him to finish, waited for the high to slowly fade from his eyes as he looked down at me.
Only then did I pull away and lick my lips.
His eyes hardened noticeably.
I gripped his thighs and rose to my feet, purposely pushing my tits in his face along the way. “You have a really nice dick.” I walked out with my head held high, leaving before he had the opportunity to ask me to go, knowing I’d earned my place in this house for at least a week.
If not more.