Chapter Twenty #2
“I thought you’d be gentle and patient,” she whimpers.
“Is that what you want, love? Someone to be soft with you? Treat you like you’re fragile?”
“No.”
“You like it like this, don’t you? Overstimulated. Hands everywhere, a hard fuck.”
“Yes,” she cries out. “Please, Alfie, I need to come.”
I swirl my tongue around her nipple, sucking again, and she breaks.
Nails scraping down my back, her hips bucking against my thrusts.
She’s a whimpering mess, hair sticking to the thin layer of sweat against her forehead, mascara smudged, lips swollen and pink. She’s fucking perfect. My perfect girl.
“Dickmatized,” she whispers, and I laugh. How does she manage to do that? I’ve never been so turned on in all my life, the girl of my dreams naked after just coming on my cock, and she still makes me laugh.
“You’re a menace.”
“Imagine all this but in the cat-burglar outfit.”
“Mia, don’t,” I warn.
“Or the denim shorts? With the gingham top? You seemed a little rattled when I wore that. I could do my hair in pigtails, be a real country cowgirl for you.”
“Mia…”
She bites her lip, her heels digging into my ass, my cock still throbbing inside her.
“Let me taste myself on you,” she whispers against my lips.
My dick practically nods, and I slip out of her. “You wanna suck my cock, Miss Sinclair?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Dr. Adams.” She smirks.
“Get on your knees, beautiful.”
I shift so I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, Mia between my legs, looking up through her long lashes. She’s a mess, makeup smeared and panting.
She grips the base of my cock, her other hand caressing my balls, tugging on them gently. I want this to last. I want to watch her bring me to the edge of insanity before calling me back. Her tongue swipes the underside of my cock before she pulls back, considering the taste of herself.
A small smile tugs at her lips, and I stroke her cheek with my thumb.
“You can do better than that, Mia.”
“So impatient.” She tuts. “I just wanted a little taste.”
But she rises to my goading. Her tongue swirls around the head, lapping up the pre-cum spilling from my slit.
Her perfect pink tongue flicks at the underside, pressing flat before taking me deep.
Her wet mouth slides over my cock, her cheeks sucking in as the pressure builds in the base of my spine.
I wish I could say I had any semblance of control, but I don’t.
Mia fucking Sinclair, my employee, is naked, on her knees, taking me down without fucking flinching.
I'm almost certain it’s the blowjob talking, but I might be in love.
Her head bobs up and down, her nails scrape the underside of my cock, just above my balls, and I’m fucking done.
Mia’s relentless teasing for the last six weeks, possibly longer if I could do basic math right now, which I can’t.
Her pace is unrelenting as my cum hits the back of her throat, a low growl escaping my throat as I feel her swallow.
I’m dead.
I died weeks ago, and heaven has led me to this moment.
Mia fucking Sinclair.
“You really have a thing for nails, don’t you?”
“When you’re scraping me with them, apparently, yeah.” I lie back, looking at the ceiling as she crawls on top of me. She settles in at my side, her cheek resting on my chest as her leg falls over mine. Her finger trails down my sternum, over my abs, making me clench.
I kiss the top of her head, and I feel her stiffening, shrinking in on herself. She pulls the bedcover over her chest so all I can see is the curve of her hip which is slowly withdrawing from reach.
“So, I can get going now if you like? Let you get ready for the week,” she says, lifting off me, holding the comforter over her chest.
It’s not even been ten minutes, and she’s already on her way out.
“What happened?” I ask, reaching for her hand that swipes away at the last second.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re running off.”
“I’m not…” she winces. “I just figured you’d want me to leave.”
“Why the hell would you think that?”
She huffs, slipping on her top before locating her panties. “Listen, I know during a lust-filled chat people say random things they don’t mean. We said two months. Let’s keep things friendly and—"
“I'm gonna cut you off right there. One, we said three months, not two. Two, I’m not gonna kick you out the second I come, so if you could remove all that again that would be great.” I point down to her clothes.
“Three, I like you, a fucking lot. I like spending time with you. So if you think the next three months we’re just going to fuck and do nothing else, then this is not going to work for me. ”
She stares for a moment, her eyes wide, her mouth parting.
“I just thought—”
“I know what you thought. And I know someone hurt you. I know that. But I’m not that person, and I’m just asking you to give me a chance to prove it to you.”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, and it’s not until I reach out and squeeze her hand that I see a small tremble in her chin. I wish I could find out everything that happened to her so I could undo every single thing. Every thought about herself and how she thinks someone will treat her.
“I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me. You got what you wanted,” she whispers.
“Wait—what?” A tight knot forms in my chest making it hard to breathe. Surely she doesn’t think that low of me.
She shakes her head, her voice small when she says, “I’m gonna go home. I just need to shower and get ready for the week, okay? I just need a bit of space.”
I take a strained breath before responding.
I genuinely don’t think this is about me.
I need to be patient with her as she works through this.
“You can do whatever you want, Mia. But don’t put words in my mouth.
I want you to stay here with me. We could hang out, have dinner.
But it’s fine if you want to leave too,” I say softly.
“I want you to be comfortable when we’re together. I want you to always be comfortable.”
“Okay…I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hesitates for a second. Her features flinch with a memory of pain and dismissal I obviously don’t understand. Without another word, she slips on her skirt, grabs her boots, and heads downstairs.
I want to chase after her. Tell her that she’s all I’ve been able to think about. Her laugh, her ability to predict my every move even when I don’t know what I’m doing one minute to the next. She’s funny, smart, fucking beautiful. She should know this. She needs to know this.
As I hear the click of the door and lie back on the bed, I wonder how the best moment of my fucking year could end like that.