23. Celine #2
The motion of his thumb brushing against my skin stops, and he drops his hand before taking a step back. “If you want to.”
“Do you regret it?”
He inhales and exhales deeply before answering. “No. I don’t regret it.”
“Are you mad that you broke your vow?”
With a shake of his head, he says, “No.”
That response takes me by surprise. “Really? Why?”
“Because it was you who made me break that vow.” He takes a step towards me, closing the distance again. “What I am is angry at myself for wanting it to happen again.”
“You do?” I ask breathlessly.
“Yes.” His hand meets the side of my neck, his thumb slowly trailing a heated line over my throat until it stops on the other side. His fingers dig gently into my skin. “You are a sin that I want to keep committing.”
“Little sin,” I whisper to myself, recalling the nickname he used on Sunday. When my gaze drops to his mouth, he is grinning. “But I thought it was only a one-time thing. Giving in to that temptation once.”
“Do you want it to be a one-time thing?” He increases the pressure of his fingers, causing my lips to part. “Because now that I’ve had a taste of you, I won’t be able to stay away.”
My knees almost buckle from his words. It shouldn’t happen again, but the risk we’d be taking is making my adrenaline spike. “I want it to happen again.”
“Yeah?” He leans forward, and the tip of his nose brushes mine. “Would you be able to keep this a secret?”
“I’ve already told you, your secrets are safe with me.” I remind him as his eyes dance between mine and then fall to my lips.
“Good.” With one tug, our lips are connected.
At the sensation of his warm mouth against mine, this time, my knees do buckle. Alex wraps his arm around my waist, keeping me standing. He deepens the kiss, causing the world to spin faster as each second passes. I feel lightheaded, but in a good way, if that is even possible.
Yanking me away from the bookshelf, he walks us to his desk, still devouring me. With his free arm, he lifts me onto the wooden structure and begs for entrance into my mouth with his tongue. I allow it to happen, his tongue creating a dance with mine, one that both of us know all too well.
“Fuck,” He pulls away, hand still wrapped around my neck.
“It’s weird hearing you curse.”
“Seriously? I made you come all over my fingers, and you think it’s weird to hear me curse?”
I shrug, my hand meeting his, which is slightly restricting my breathing. “I went back to my room and made myself come again.”
The image of what I did makes him groan. “So did I.”
“You came in the confessional booth?”
“You were grinding against me while riding my fingers. I came in my pants like a teenager. Twice.”
A grin spreads across my face. “I’m glad to know I can do that by just grinding on you.”
He laughs and presses his lips to the corner of my mouth. “You made me come without even touching me.”
I think back to what he said about standing outside of my room late at night and listening to me touch myself. The images appear in my head of him outside my room, hand wrapped around his cock, pleasuring himself.
“I want to watch.”
“You want to watch me touch myself?” He quirks a brow, and I nod. “Maybe another time. I need to taste you again.”
Alex lets go of my neck and begins lowering himself. Threading my fingers into his hair, I curl them to grip the strands. With a light tug, he hisses as I bring him back to eye level.
“You only get a taste if you are a good boy and do as you’re told.”
He licks his lips, and a subtle smirk grows on his face. “And what, Celine, are you going to tell me to do?”
“Sit,” I order.
With slow steps, Alex moves back to the chair behind him and takes his seat while I remain perched on the desk. His hands clamp down on the arms of the chair, legs spread, and he tilts his head to the side as he stares at me with a heated gaze.
“Now what?”
Placing my hands on the desk’s surface, I lean back and gesture to his pants. “Unzip them.”
His hands move from the armrest to his pants. He keeps his amber eyes focused on mine, and I watch as they grow darker while he slowly tugs the zipper down.
“Remove yourself.” The corner of his lip tugs as he undoes the button.
My breathing begins to quicken as I prepare myself to see him. It was one thing to feel him through our clothing, but to see it with my own eyes? What if it’s disappointing? What if his size won’t even be able to pleasure me?
Our eyes remain on one another, and I swallow nervously as he asks, “Are you going to watch or will you just be staring at my face the whole time?”
Inhaling a deep breath, my eyes fall to his lap. Now my breathing accelerates for another reason. That being the fear of him being inside of me. There is no way that is going to fit in my vagina.
Blinking the panic away, I realize he is stroking himself and clear my mind of his massive size. “Did I tell you to begin?”
His hand stops the lazy movement. “I’m sorry.”
Hearing him apologize does something to me. It’s not that it turns me on more than I already am, even though it does. But there’s something about a man submitting to me.
Part of me enjoys watching a man squirm and hearing them beg because they want me so bad that they’d do anything. It makes me feel powerful.
A man’s ego is hard to break. And when they’re given one option: To fully submit to me and obey my rules, then they can have me. They’re forced to choose between their ego and letting go of their pride and dominance, or being with me. And it’s the moment they fold that I know I am worth it.
I stare at his thick length, and even though I’m afraid of it going between my legs, my mouth can’t help but water. I want to wrap my lips around him. To make him feel good.
When my gaze wanders up, his eyes are pinned to mine, begging to skip all of this so he can be inside of me.
“Go ahead,” I give him permission, motioning to where his hand is wrapped around his cock.
He begins stroking himself, his lips parting as his breathing becomes uneven. He nods towards my dress and in a gravelly tone, he demands, “Lift your dress. I want to see how wet you are for me.”
My eyes flick up to his. “Who is in charge right now?”
He keeps the motion of his hand the same as he says, “You.”
I always loved being dominant in the bedroom, but most of the men I hooked up with didn’t like giving up their power, which is why I’m now a switch. Even though I love ordering men around, I don’t mind being told what to do.
Alex is one of the few men who is okay with giving me this control. He is a man who happily serves a higher power, and right now, I am that higher entity.
Alex massages himself at a leisurely pace, causing my brows to dip in confusion. “Do you usually go that slow?”
He shakes his head. “I’m waiting.”
“For?”
“Permission to go faster,” he says it with a whimper because it’s killing him to move so slowly.
I hum, standing from the desk. Alex observes me carefully, wondering what my next move will be. I bet he is hoping I will help relieve his needs, but that’s not what I’m about to do.
Grabbing the fabric of my dress, I gradually drag it up my legs. His eyes fall from mine and to my bare legs, watching the fabric pass over my thighs, and when I bunch the material at my waist, he groans.
I chose not to wear underwear today. Why? Because I was secretly hoping that what happened in the confessional booth wasn’t the last time.
If I’m being honest, I haven’t been wearing them since it happened. With the material around my waist, I climb back up on the desk, scooting myself to the back edge so I can plant my feet on the surface. My legs are spread, and Alex doesn’t move his eyes from the wetness growing between them.
“Can you see what you’re doing to me?” I ask him as I lightly trail my fingers up the inside of my thigh.
“Y-yes,” he stutters.
“I think you need a closer look.” Lifting my hand, I crook my finger. “Scoot your chair up.”
He doesn’t hesitate as he pulls the chair across the carpet. He only stops when his knees hit the desk, and then he leans back into the seat and continues to touch himself.
“I need to taste you, little sin.” The words are somewhere between demanding and begging.
With the tone of his voice and the nickname, I almost cave and let him because I desperately want to feel his mouth on me. But my willpower stays strong.
“What did I say, Alex? You will only get a taste if—”
“If I’m a good boy,” he finishes my sentences with another whimper.
“So be a good boy and stroke yourself faster.”
He listens so well. His chest rises and falls with each pump. Precum glistens at his tip, and I lick my lips, wanting to know what he tastes like. I fight the urge and allow my fingers to find my clit. I use two fingers to rub slow circles and toss my head back.
“Celine,” I lift my head at his strong tone. “As much as I’d love to hear you, my office isn’t soundproof.”
I nod in understanding and remain quiet as I quicken the circular motion. We both remain silent as we pleasure ourselves. Alex’s eyes stay between my legs as he practically drools at the sight.
Wandering my fingers down, I shove two inside me and gasp. It doesn’t feel like it did when his were inside me, but with how worked up I am, it feels so good.
“I miss the way your fingers felt inside me.”
“Then let me give you what you’re missing,” he begs.
My head shakes. “No.”
I pump my fingers faster, eyes dropping down to see that Alex is matching my pace. Removing my fingers, I bring my hand up, letting him think I am going to give him a taste.
When he leans forward in his seat, I guide my hands to my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the two fingers, humming in satisfaction from how I taste and the aggravated expression on his face.
“You’re such a tease, you know that?” With my fingers still in my mouth, I nod. “What if I just take what I want?”
My fingers leave my mouth with a pop. “Don’t.”
“Please.”
My head drops to the side. “Maybe if you keep begging.”