Chapter 20
Sophia
Oh god.
Oh god.
Ethan licks a line up from my entrance before his perfect tongue circles my clit, and I might die from the pleasure of it.
If that doesn’t kill me, his low, hungry noise of approval will.
My own noise of approval is more high-pitched, more desperate.
I keep my legs spread and my arms stretched out above my head like the good girl I’m pretending to be, but I also absolutely thrust my pussy against his face like the brazen ho I actually am.
Why the fuck has he been withholding his tongue from me all week? It’s clearly his second-best attribute, and I’m not talking about his personality. He circles my clit again, the slippery sensation telling me that I’m soaking down there. I moan out an involuntary ah-ah-ah sound and begin to pray.
Please god, let him be a generous lover and not a sadistic arsehole.
It seems there is a god, because he takes the fingers holding me open and shoves two of them inside me with a single hard thrust that would have me shooting off the bed if it wasn’t for those fingers splayed firmly, possessively, over my stomach.
‘Fuck, you’re ridiculous,’ he hums, his breath warm on my pussy. ‘Ridiculous.’ (I am extremely confident from his tone that he means this as a compliment.) ‘The question is, can you give me what I need?’
‘Anything,’ I say with a pathetically breathy gasp. It’s not my coolest moment. ‘What do you need?’
‘I need you so fucking hot for this that you blot out every single thing that’s happened today up until now. I want to destroy you, and then I want to fucking drown in you.’ He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘I need a win today. Think you can manage that?’
Be still my heart.
My uptight, controlling, humourless boss confessing his vulnerabilities, and against my clit, at that?
He’s already destroyed me.
He’ll be drowning his dick in my dead, smutty corpse at this rate.
But he doesn’t need my pity. Absolutely not.
All he needs, in this moment, is to know that my greedy, greedy vagina and I have his back.
He’s treating me like a whore in the best way: he’s paying for this, and he’s asking me to give him what he needs.
This isn’t some random hookup. It’s a transaction, and I’m about to prove to him that I’m worth every penny.
‘You’ve got the right girl,’ I promise. ‘Try me.’ I’m suddenly glad that he’s tied me up in this token way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to resist reaching down and stroking his hair.
He clears his throat as if he’s already embarrassed. ‘Glad to hear it. Now show me.’ And with that, he presses his mouth to my pussy, issuing what’s probably the easiest demand of my entire career, because I’m physically incapable of not showing him.
Heat courses through my entire pelvic region like molten treacle as his tongue slides over me and his fingers lance me with a perfect sting, over and over.
I raise my chin a little to catch a peek of the fine, fine sight of his head between my legs as he licks me, his hair tousled.
He glances up, and the look he gives me through his eyelashes is so depraved, so feral, that it practically sends me over the edge.
I let my head flop down and stretch my arms out above my head and focus on withstanding his sensory barrage.
My whimpers grow louder, and they seem to galvanise him. He ramps up his ministrations, twisting his fingers viciously inside me at the top of each thrust as he uses his supple lips and strong tongue to wreak total havoc on my clit.
It’s too much. I’m incandescent, breathless with desire. My orgasm shimmers around my consciousness, a beautiful halo. I try to arch my back, but Ethan holds me down, forcing me to absorb every single ounce of this onslaught. My only outlet is my voice, and by god do I let rip.
‘I can’t—oh my god, Ethan. It’s so—harder. Harder. Please. It’s—god, just there, just there, I can’t—’
The blessed man doubles down, lavishing my pussy with every ravenous lick, every suck I need, like he’s eating me for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
And as he does, the white-hot heat flooding my body ignites into something the intensity of which I can’t name or understand, and I’m consumed, writhing and bucking and shaking as best I can as he licks me and finger-fucks me relentlessly through it all.
I pull my bound hands up and press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets as planets collide and stars combust behind my eyelids.
I’m still crying out, I realise, but it’s gibberish, utter nonsense.
Gradually, I float down from my extraordinary climax.
Ethan’s touch has softened, and, right as my flesh grows too sensitised, he withdraws his mouth and fingers.
He crawls up my body, looking for all the world like a man on the brink of losing his sanity altogether, and crouches over me on all fours. I stare up at him, stunned, as he reaches for the strip of condoms.
‘I’ll take that,’ he says, ‘as win number one.’
ETHAN
I’ve seen Sophia post-orgasm before, of course. The sight of her when I peeled her off my desk after her interview is a memory I’ve jerked off to with particular pleasure.
But seeing her like this, her beautiful body sprawled beneath me in a semi-restrained, sex-drunk, sated heap, is… affecting, on a whole other level.
Out there somewhere, my father and the Montagues are presumably engaged in mud-slinging and war games and brinksmanship, and I should probably care.
While in here, Sophia stares up at me with glazed eyes, her breathing ragged, her tits heaving.
She looks at me as though I’m her god, as though I’m some kind of miracle worker, when, really, it’s she who’s the alchemist. It’s she who’s slowly transforming the poison that’s been coursing through my veins all day into honey.
I rear up onto my knees between her legs, tearing a condom off the strip and ripping open the foil.
She watches me pinch the condom and roll it over my impossibly hard, impossibly painful dick.
I, in turn, take her in. She’s still so tanned.
Such a vision against these white sheets.
Those lashes. Those eyes. All that dark, glossy hair.
She’s undoubtedly a siren, and her call is fucking deafening, and if I crash against the rocks and perish, it will all have been worthwhile.
‘Time for win number two,’ I tell her. I want her like this for now, bound and supine and at my mercy. I want to lower myself down on top of her and blot everything else out and consume her the way she’s just consumed me.
Her mouth makes a little O. Her gorgeous face is still dazed. And I can wait no longer to plunge inside her and let myself drown.
I’m a lucky man, I suppose. Since my wife did the only feasible thing she could do and ran for the hills, taking Jamie with her, I’ve been able to subjugate any sense of responsibility I feel for other people’s happiness and wellbeing.
That’s a good thing when your mere presence is usually the antidote to their happiness or wellbeing.
And the bonus is that, rather than go through the motions of dating in order to get laid, I can employ spectacular women to take care of my needs.
My need right now is a hard fuck, a fuck punishing enough to obliterate all my problems, and I have faith that my newest and most alluring employee will give me just that. After all, she served me up her own utter destruction with aplomb, just as I instructed her.
I don’t take my eyes off her as I brace on one elbow and feed her my dick. Beneath me, she moves to accommodate me as best she can. Sophia’s no blushing ingenue, and she’s wet as fuck, but it’s still a tight fit. Sweat pricks my skin as I endeavour to ram home without losing it.
She truly is a sight to behold. The way she’s blinking up at me from under that feathery fringe is so seductive.
Her legs are still drawn up, her soft inner thighs the most heavenly cradle for my body.
In my world of self-denial and self-control and, probably, self-sabotage, she is an oasis of carnal abundance, and I’m about to gorge myself stupid.
As I sink deeper, I can’t resist: I lower my mouth to hers so I can fill her up at both ends.
I want her to taste her own honeyed sweetness on my lips.
My tongue toys with hers as I give another thrust and bottom out in her.
Jesus Christ. I really need to find a way to get this woman bare so there’s no barrier between my starving dick and her glorious inner walls as I drag my way in and out of her.
But even so, it’s heavenly in here. I hold still and kiss her harder. I want her to feel it too, feel how perfectly we fit.
With the hand not holding my weight, I grab her arse. It’s so fucking round and plump against my palm. I dig my fingers in, finding purchase in her smooth skin so I can ensure I maintain deadly focus once I start to move.
And I really do mean deadly.
Still kissing her, I slide out and plunge brutally back in. The moan she makes in my mouth tells me she feels the vicious beauty of it as much as I do.
I’m moving inside her properly now, with long, fevered thrusts that have my poor dick on fire. I can’t take my eyes off her. I watch for every flicker of pleasure over her stunning face as I drive home, over and over.
She’s watching me too.
I knew the moment I saw her that she was a knockout. But there’s nothing quite like having your own arousal reflected in her eyes to understand that she’s far, far more than that.
She brings her bound hands up and over us, smoothing them down my back and then up again so she can stroke my neck. It’s an act of defiance I shouldn’t tolerate, but it feels so good.
‘’Even when you’re being fucked you’re a disobedient little thing,’ I growl.
She looks anything but contrite. ‘Can’t help it. I want to touch you.’
‘Fuck. Take it off.’
She shrugs off the cursory cuff and cups my neck, pulling my head down for a hard kiss. There’s something about kissing a woman when you’re inside her that’s intensely gratifying. It’s the hottest echo of fucking her.
Sophia’s hands travel down my body as I do, grabbing and clawing my shoulders, my biceps, my arse, like she can’t get enough. It seems our hunger for each other is a raw and desperate thing.
If I’m going to go full throttle with my self-indulgence here, I may as well treat myself to the best view in the house. I force myself to still inside her for a moment and roll us over so she’s lying on top of me. All that dark hair of hers falls around us, blotting out the daylight for a moment.
‘Ride me,’ I order her. ‘Show me how badly you want this.’
She pushes herself upright with a pained little laugh, using her hand to scoop her hair back in one big flick.
Holy fucking hell.
She is spectacular.
She sits astride me, hair everywhere and eyes molten. I’m not sure where to look—at her flushed face, or her magnificent tits, or at the spot where my dick disappears inside her body.
All I know is that she’s the best show in town.
She rears up and slams back down, and the pleasure courses to every extremity in my body.
I slide my hands along her thighs so I can grip her hips hard, controlling her movements, ensuring she stays on track.
And, like the pro that she is, she does.
She works my dick with slick slides, the pleasure she feels every time she sits fully down on me painted all over her face.
Then she’s falling forward, planting her hands either side of my face so she can really go for it.
Her hair tickles my chest, her tits bounce inches from my face, and I realise that she’s not servicing me at all.
God, no. She’s working me for herself, wringing every bit of pleasure she can from my body like the greedy little thing she is, and I fucking love it.
I release her hips so I can palm her tits roughly.
When I pinch her nipples, her entire face contorts, and she lets out a long, low moan.
Christ, she’s such a beautiful, sexual creature.
Her entire body is made for fucking, for giving men—and, it seems, herself—pleasure.
I thrust up into her as savagely as I can from my supine position and, through my shockwaves of need, deliriously congratulate myself on an epic fucking hire, because Sophia really is the full package.
‘I need you to come, sweetheart,’ I beg her brokenly, because what I don’t need today is to shoot my load before she does.
From the strangled sounds she’s making and the desperate way she’s grinding against me, it seems she’s close.
‘I need you to keep milking my cock and taking what you need. Keep grinding that greedy little clit against me and show me what you’re made of. ’
‘Oh Jesus,’ she groans as she gets herself upright.
I manage to keep hold of one of her breasts, using my other hand to find her clit and rub.
I’m not taking any chances here. Our skin is slick with sweat.
Her fringe is sticking to her forehead. I track her movements, keeping my hands on her as she rides me, chasing her orgasm.
Our eyes are locked. Hers are wild, desperate with her need to come. I’ve never seen anything like it.
She rides me harder and harder, lost to whatever need is fuelling her right now. Her cries grow louder. More fevered. I lie here and I thrust, my entire body shaking with the effort of holding myself back, of keeping my—
Fuuuuuck.
She breaks.
She bucks and she screams and her clit grows impossibly harder, slicker, and she slams down on me over and over and over and I fucking detonate.
I jerk on the bed, powerless beneath this goddess to do anything but let the orgasm she’s milked from me course over my body.
My hips rut uselessly, the most unearthly bellow breaks from me, and I’m dimly, blissfully aware of Sophia thrashing around above me as I fill up the condom in great, angry spurts.
Jesus fucking Christ, I’m hollowed out and reborn. I’m nothing and everything and so flooded with wellbeing that I feel weightless and thoughtless and… done. I’m done for. I let my arms fall outwards onto the sheets.
Then Sophia’s smiling down at me, a majestic, sated smile that strikes me as the biggest triumph I could possibly have wished for, and she’s lowering herself down on top of me. Deep inside her, my dick twitches happily as her breasts settle against my chest and her lips find mine.
With difficulty, I find the use of my arms, burying my fingers in her hair and smoothing them down her back as I kiss her, slowly, lazily. Our tongues entangle. Our breaths mingle. And I sigh my bone-deep contentment into her mouth.
Fuck the Montagues.
This is what I call a win.