Seventeen #2
That wicked grin is back, and I feel a rush of boldness as my hands slide around to the front, wrapping around his thick length. “But . . . I really love this,”
The growl that escapes him is primal, and before I know it, his lips are on mine, his mouth demanding, claiming, devouring. His hand finds my arse, yanking me against him, and I can feel every inch of his need pressing into me.
I’m already wet, already aching for him.
Breaking the kiss, I tug at his boxers, desperate to feel him against me. “Take them off,” I whisper.
He helps, quickly kicking them off, leaving him bare. His erection stands tall, the tip glistening with precome.
Without warning, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me, pulling me tightly against his body. His need mirrors mine, and I know this is going to be explosive.
“Get your thighs around my waist. Now.” Austin growls against my neck. His voice is rough, commanding, and I obey instantly, wrapping myself around him as he pins me against the cool tile wall.
His arousal slips over my swollen entrance. My fingers dig into his shoulders as my head tilts back, a breathless cry escaping my lips.
“Oh God,” I gasp.
He crashes his lips against mine, devouring me, his moans vibrating between us as our tongues collide in a frantic dance. My fingers glide down the roughness of his stubble while he carries me into the open-ended shower.
The water rains down over us, hot and soothing, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating between us. His hand slams against the wall beside my head, the sound echoing in the small space, as his lips crash back against mine.
“This is going to be hard, Jameson,” he warns, his voice low and thick with lust. “I want you to fucking scream my name.”
Oh, good Lord.
“Ready for me?” His voice is thick, low, barely a whisper against my lips.
“Yes,” I breathe, trembling as I feel him position himself, the blunt tip of his cock nudging at my entrance.
With one hard thrust, he fills me completely, his guttural roar vibrating against my skin as he buries himself to the hilt.
“God!” I cry out, my nails digging into his back as pleasure crashes over me.
His pace is relentless, his hips snapping against mine with raw, primal need. “You feel so fucking perfect,” he groans, his voice strained.
“Amazing,” I manage to choke out, my legs tightening around his waist as he drives me higher and higher.
The water glides over us, mixing with the sweat on his skin, but it’s his touch, his lips, his body that has me burning up. Every thrust is a promise, a demand, a plea.
“Harder?” he growls, his tone dripping with challenge.
“Yes!” I scream, my body trembling uncontrollably.
He grips my hair, tugging my head back so his lips can find my throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice a delicious rasp that sends me hurtling over the edge.
My orgasm rips through me, blinding and consuming, and I feel him follow, his body jerking as he groans my name.
We collapse against the tiles, the water still raining down around us. My head rests against his shoulder, our breaths mingling, ragged and uneven.
“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice still hoarse. “I think I just saw heaven.”
“Same,” I manage, my limbs heavy and useless as I cling to him.
I sigh, completely wrecked. My body feels like jelly, and I know there's no way I’ll be able to stand on my own if he lets go.
As if reading my thoughts, Austin shifts, turning us so his back is against the tiles. Slowly, he slides down the wall, taking me with him until I’m straddling his lap on the wet shower floor. I rest my cheek against his chest, still feeling the lingering throb of him inside me.
I’m completely and utterly spent.
“We didn’t use a condom,” I blurt, still gasping for breath as my heart thunders in my chest.
“Relax,” Austin says, utterly unbothered. “I know you’re on the pill.”
My head snaps up from his chest, and I glare at him. “You do?”
“Yeah,” he says casually, like this isn’t the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. “I’ve even checked your cycle calendar from time to time.”
“What?” I screech. “Oh my God! W—why would you do that?”
He shrugs, his lips twitching as if he’s trying not to laugh. “Because some days you hate me more than others. I like to stay ahead of the game and know where I stand.”
My jaw drops. “Austin! That’s—oh my God, that’s so invasive!”
“It’s practical,” he counters, completely unrepentant. “I see it as self-preservation.”
I smack his shoulder, hard. “You’re unbelievable!”
THE COLD AIR NIPS at my cheeks as Austin and I stroll along the Thames. The city hums around us, the glow of the streetlights bouncing off the rippling water. It’s one of those rare clear nights in London where you can actually see the stars if you squint hard enough and tilt your head just right.
After the amazing shower sex, we never left the flat. We never left the bedroom if truth be told. After our all night fuckathon, we continued it way into the day. I feel so red raw it's not even funny.
We finally managed to peel ourselves out of the sheets about 5 p.m. deciding that some fresh air would do us some good.
Austin walks beside me, his hands tucked casually in his coat pockets, his shoulders relaxed. He looks . . . content. Not something I’m used to seeing on the face of Mr. CEO. His jaw isn’t clenched, and his eyes don’t have that calculating edge they usually do.
“You’re quiet,” he says, glancing down at me.
“Just taking it all in,” I reply, motioning to the view. “London really knows how to show off when it wants to.”
“Or maybe you’re just distracted by how handsome I am,” he says, smirking.
“Right, of course. The view’s nothing compared to you,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes.
He chuckles, and the sound does something to me—something warm and soft and annoyingly pleasant. I quicken my pace slightly, hoping he won’t notice the blush creeping across my cheeks.
“So,” he says, his tone shifting to something more curious, “are you ever going to tell me why you never mentioned you could sing?”
I stop dead in my tracks, turning to him. “What?”
“Don’t play coy, Jameson. That little performance last night?” He shakes his head, looking genuinely impressed. “You’ve been hiding serious pipes. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Oh, please,” I say, brushing it off as we keep walking. “It’s not like I’m secretly Adele.”
“Maybe not Adele,” he says, nudging me with his elbow, “but you’re definitely better than you let on.”
I burst out laughing. “That was the point! I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“Well, you should,” he says, his eyes narrowing playfully. “So come on, when did you start? Choir at school? Secret X Factor auditions?”
“Church choir, actually,” I admit, my voice softening. “And sometimes at the local old people’s home when I was a kid. They loved it—although I think half of them just appreciated the company.”
Austin looks at me like I’ve just told him I rehome puppies on weekends. “Of course you did. Little Mia Jameson, singing hymns and making pensioners’ days. You’re disgustingly wholesome sometimes, you know that?”
“Balance is key,” I say with a grin. “Someone’s got to even out your whole brooding billionaire routine.”
“Fair point,” he says, laughing. “Although, I’m not quite a billionaire. I’m working on it though,” he winks.
We walk in silence for a moment, the sound of our footsteps blending with the distant hum of rush hour traffic and the lapping water below.
Then his tone shifts again. Softer. More serious. “Can I ask you something?”
I glance up at him, catching the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Of course.”
He clears his throat, looking straight ahead. “What actually happened with your wanker of an ex?”
The question catches me off guard. I knew it would come up eventually, but I hadn’t prepared myself for how it would feel to hear it out loud.
“You’ve never really told me,” he adds, his voice gentle. “I mean, I know it must have been bad because I found you slumped on the floor outside my flat door.”