Chapter 17 Austin #2
Dinner was simple—pasta tossed with garlic, blistered tomatoes, and hunks of salty Parmesan that melted into the heat of the noodles.
We ate at the table, knees brushing, shoulders leaning closer than necessary.
Selene twirled her fork slowly, the bite held midair as we talked about nothing in particular—old teachers, worst meals ever cooked, the way her daughter insisted every weed was a flower that needed some love.
Selene’s laughter came easier with each sip of wine, and I savored the sound like it was something I could pocket for later. She moaned around one bite—an honest, delighted sound that made my cock twitch—and I nearly dropped my fork. She didn’t even notice, just grinned and went back for more.
When we finished, Selene looked down into her wine like it might have answers for her as I walked our dishes to the sink. The glass caught the light as she tilted it, just enough to let a drop roll off the edge and catch on her bottom lip.
My brain short-circuited.
Her tongue flicked out to catch it, and I swear I forgot what I was doing. My hand tightened around the spatula.
Every muscle in my body went tight with restraint. “Selene.”
Her eyes lifted, slow and curious. “Hmm?”
“Come here.” My voice was low and demanding.
She blinked, still holding the glass, then slid off the chair and crossed the kitchen floor. She stopped a foot in front of me, close enough to feel her body heat. Close enough to feel her breath when it caught in her throat.
I reached out and brushed my thumb beneath her bottom lip. Her skin was warm and soft.
“That drop of wine,” I murmured. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t pull back.
I leaned in and kissed her—slow and deliberate, just a brush of my tongue over the place that wine had touched.
She tasted like tangy fruit and sin and something I hadn’t let myself want.
Her breath hitched. The glass tilted slightly in her hand.
“You taste like trouble,” I murmured, my voice gone rough.
Selene’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “And you taste like good decisions I shouldn’t make.”
I took the glass from her hand and set it on the counter.
Then I dipped my head. “What if I want to taste it from somewhere else?”
Her pupils dilated, black swallowing hazel. I slid my hands around her hips, guided her back until she hit the edge of the table.
She didn’t stop me.
I reached for the wineglass again and held it between us. “Tell me when to stop.”
She didn’t say anything, but she lifted her chin.
So I tipped it—just a little—and let a slow ribbon of wine trail from the hollow of her throat down to the swell of her chest, following the dip of her dress.
Selene shivered.
I followed the path with my mouth. Her breath caught when my tongue touched her skin.
The wine was cool where it had landed, but her skin burned beneath it.
I followed the trail slowly, deliberately, letting my lips brush the delicate line between reverence and hunger.
Her fingers curled against the edge of the table, body taut and trembling under my mouth.
I paused just below the hollow of her throat and looked up. “You good?”
She nodded—small, sharp. “Yes.”
Her voice wavered like she was on the edge of something she hadn’t let herself want in a very long time.
I set the wineglass down and hooked my hands behind her knees, spreading her gently apart until she was open to me, breath shallow, dress gathered around her thighs.
My palms slid over her skin, slow and steady, grounding her in every place I touched.
I leaned forward, mouth dragging along the inside of her thigh, tasting the heat of her and the faint hint of red wine left in the air as I dragged her panties down her thighs.
I paused to stare at her, dress gathered at her hips, pussy bare and waiting.
I yanked my shirt off before settling between her legs.
Selene gasped when I licked her—just once, slow and sure—and then again when I buried my face between her legs like I’d been starving and this was the only thing that could bring me back to life.
She moaned my name—quiet and choked and wrecked.
I could have lived inside that sound.
The table creaked as her back arched, her fingers tangling in my hair like she didn’t know whether she wanted to pull me closer or push me away. I didn’t stop. Not until her legs were shaking, her breath ragged, her thighs clamped around my shoulders.
She came with a gasp that turned into a whimper, her whole body trembling under my hands.
I kissed the inside of her knee as I let her come down. I watched her, wild and undone, and knew I was a goner.
“You make me want more,” I murmured, pressing my forehead to hers.
Selene blinked at me, dazed and flushed. “More?”
I stepped back just enough to grab the wineglass again, swirled what was left, and let the last of it dribble down the center of my chest. It followed the trail of my sternum, catching on the ridges of muscle before sliding lower.
Then I unbuckled my jeans, eased them down, and let the wine continue its descent.
Selene’s eyes darkened.
The red wine curved over my abs, slid along the V of my hips, and dripped down the thick length of my cock, already hard and aching for her.
I wrapped my hand around the base and offered her a crooked smile. “Are you still thirsty, Selene?”
Her eyes met mine for half a second before she slid from the table and dropped to her knees.
Her hand came first—warm and sure, fingers wrapping around me like she already knew how I liked it. Her mouth followed, slow and devastating, tongue swirling against the wine-slick skin like she wanted to memorize the taste.
I groaned, one hand braced on the table, the other sinking into her hair.
Fuuuuuck.
She hummed around me, a smug little sound that nearly buckled my knees.
Her mouth was hot and wet and perfect, sliding down inch by inch like she wasn’t afraid of what I’d do to her.
My breath hitched as I watched the glide of her lips over the thick length of my cock, the way her hand twisted at the base, working in tandem with her mouth like she wanted to ruin me.
“Jesus, Selene.” My voice cracked, hand tightening in her hair. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”
She moaned in response, the sound vibrating through me. My hips jerked.
Her tongue licked the underside of my cock, tracing the vein there before she hollowed her cheeks and took me deeper. My eyes rolled back. I could feel her throat working, feel the soft constriction around the head as she fought her reflex and swallowed me.
I looked down, and fuck—her lashes were wet.
She gagged once, pulling back with a gasp and spit slicking her lips and chin. Her hand never stopped moving. Her eyes lifted to mine, glassy and wild.
“Goddamn,” I groaned, chest heaving. “You look so pretty like this. Eyes watering, mouth full of me. Do you know what that does to a man?”
I couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop touching. I thumbed her jaw gently, then dragged my fingers into her hair again, guiding her movements with a tenderness that proved how hard I was fighting not to come.
She whimpered, and it was like she wanted to prove something—because she went back down, deeper this time, taking me to the back of her throat with determined abandon. Her nails dug into my thigh as she swallowed again, and I nearly lost it right then.
“Fuck—just like that. Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch.” My hips rocked forward, slow but insistent, and she let me. She moaned around me—wrecked and eager—and the sound, the feel, the utter trust of it, cracked something deep inside me.
“Such a good girl,” I growled, tightening my grip just enough to steady her. “Letting me fuck your throat like it’s mine.”
She sucked like she had something to prove, or like she needed to claim me with her lips and tongue.
And she did.
Because I was hers now. There was absolutely no going back.
When I couldn’t take it anymore—when the sharp edge of pleasure wound too tight to bear—I pulled her up, hauled her into my arms, and kissed her like it was the only language I had left.
Her legs wrapped around my waist. Her dress bunched at her hips. I grabbed her ass and slammed her back against the edge of the table, nudging the head of my cock at her entrance.
“I want this.” My eyes never left hers.
She swallowed hard and nodded. “Me too.”
I reached for my jeans, tugging out the condom I kept in my wallet. It wasn’t cocky—it was careful. I was aware that Selene would be alone this weekend, and some hopeful part of me hadn’t been able to function without being ready.
I worked it down the length of my shaft, and in one slow, devastating thrust, I slid inside her.
We both gasped.
Selene clutched my shoulders, breath stuttering as I filled her. My hand slid up her back, holding her close, my forehead pressed to hers.
“I’ve got you,” I said, voice low and rough.
Then I started to move. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was everything I hadn’t let myself want. Everything I’d held back from her, now unleashed like a storm I couldn’t outrun.
She moaned my name like a plea.
“Tell me,” I growled, fucking into her so deep she cried out. “Tell me you need it.”
“Yes,” she gasped. “God, Austin, yes—I need it. Please don’t stop.”
Her words wrecked me. I drove harder. Rougher. One hand braced on the table, the other holding the back of her neck like I couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go. She took everything I gave her, body clenching around me, mouth open in surrender.
“You feel so fucking good,” I rasped against her throat. “Like you were made for this. For me.”
She was unraveling beneath me, her body shaking, the table groaning under our weight, until she shattered. I felt her fall apart in the way she clung to me, in the way she cried out and buried her face in my neck, in the way her body gripped mine so tight I saw stars.
I followed her over the edge a breath later, cursing against her skin, hips stuttering as I emptied inside her.
It took a full minute to breathe again.
It was hard to remember where we were—who we were—but I never let her go.
Her forehead rested against mine. Her breath fanned over my lips.
“I think,” I murmured, still buried inside her, “you’ve officially ruined me.”
Selene’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and soft and a little glassy.
And then she smiled.