CHAPTER 47 #4
It seemed almost silly showering separately, after what he’d done to me, but I didn’t bother to offer suggestions.
“You go first.” I didn’t want to wash him off me yet.
A part of me hoped his essence would seep beneath my skin.
That, maybe, he’d feel the same shiver of need as I did, if I kept a part of him inside of me. What a sickening thought.
It wasn’t until he pushed away that I caught a glimpse of what must’ve been a painfully-stiff erection sticking up from his boxer briefs.
How badly I wanted to run my tongue over it.
The mere suggestion watered my mouth, and I could practically feel my gag reflexes kicking in.
When he turned away from me, my focus switched to his broad, muscled back that tapered down into the most deliciously-toned ass I’d ever seen, and long, powerful thighs that I imagined could hold a woman in place with little effort.
He disappeared through a door to the right of the fireplace, closing it behind him. Light radiated through the crack at the bottom, followed by the sound of a shower flicking on.
I turned toward the computer on his desk. The cabinets undoubtedly brimming with old files.
The younger me, the girl who’d grown up on the unforgiving streets, where etiquette and decorum were nothing but the fancy words of the rich, begged to unscrupulously plow through his personal space without care.
The other part of me loathed the thought of betraying his trust.
I pushed up from the bed, fixing my bra and shirt, and swiped up my tangled panties, the crotch of them still damp as I slid them up my thighs. When I stepped in the direction of his desk, I paused, though.
Would a man like him leave information like that lying around for anyone?
He probably had a password on his computer.
His desk was undoubtedly locked, along with any file cabinets.
Was I foolish enough to think he’d make it easy to drag out what must’ve been a humiliating piece of his past?
The experiments that’d marred his family name.
I brushed my finger over the mousepad of his laptop, where I was prompted to enter a password. A tug of the drawers to the right of me confirmed that he’d locked them.
It would be futile to attempt rummaging through his things. Especially when I already had an advantage that, to my knowledge, most didn’t. How many could’ve said they’d gotten that close to the man?
I lifted my gaze toward the bathroom door, where the light flickered beneath, and licked my lips, before I darted for my bag and rummaged for the tube of lipstick.
I applied it thickly across my lips and, without much prompting, padded toward the door, carefully turning the knob to find it wasn’t locked.
A light push cracked it open, and the monotonous sound of running water sharpened as I peeked into the steamy space.
It was obvious, based on the simple but modern decor of white tiles, white porcelain pedestal sink and toilet, that it’d been added on at some point, as it didn’t fit the aged look of its surroundings.
The shower was a simple box with glass doors thick with steam, through which I could just make out his shape, bent slightly over himself, his arm moving quickly, the merciless strokes of his fist echoing through the stall.
Turned slightly away, he didn’t seem to notice me watching him, and my tongue prickled as I imagined that long cock sliding against his palm.
I yanked the hem of my shirt over my head and snapped off my bra, then slid out of my panties. With careful steps, I tiptoed closer, and when I slid the glass door aside, I was greeted by the full scope of his erection. Jesus. The man was huge.
From where I stood, I could see the entirety of his shoulder and bicep that’d been ruined by the acid attack.
The raw shine of newly healed skin. The scars.
So many of them scattered over his flesh.
The sight of him had my fingers itching with the urge to touch them, to feel the cruelty that had been inflicted on him.
I’d noticed it before, but beneath the harsh lights, it was almost glaring.
He twisted around, and his gaze immediately skated down my body, the appreciation in his expression tickling my confidence, and when it trailed back upward, he seemed riveted on my lips.
I stepped into the stall and slid the door closed, shutting me in with him. Eyes locked on his, I lowered to my knees, squinting against the errant drops of water that sprayed in my face.
Cock still in hand, he watched me warily, his chest rising and falling.
I didn’t bother to break my stare, as I leaned forward and licked the weeping tip, watching his eyes screw shut.
“Lilia …” The strain in his voice told me a battle waged in his head. “I can’t do this.”
I ran my fingertip over the ridges of his shaft, the deep map of blood feeding his engorged cock.
A sharp sting struck my skull as he gripped my hair. “Please. For fucks sake.”
It didn’t stop me, though. I pushed forward and ran my tongue over his heavy balls, drawing them into my mouth.
He let out a hiss, his grip of my hair tightening. “Stop,” he rasped, but when I did, he unraveled his fingers from my hair and pressed his palm to my crown. “Don’t stop. Fuck.”
I wrapped my lips over the head of his cock, letting my tongue explore the textures along his shaft.
A faint smear of lipstick marked the path of my mouth, and I couldn’t even imagine what my face must’ve looked like right then.
Flexing my jaw to accommodate his girth, I gave one long, passionate suck.
Brows tight, he bit his bottom lip on a growling moan.
“Fuck, Lilia. You feel so fucking good.” His praise stoked my senses, while he fed me his cock at a languorously slow pace.
About a quarter of the way down, my gag reflex kicked in, and I pushed up higher onto my knees, angling myself to take more of him.
“That’s it. Take as much as you can. I need to fuck those pouty lips. ”
Careful not to scrape my teeth over him, I sucked the water from his skin, savoring the flavor as he glided in and out of my mouth with ease.
“You’ll swallow my cum, yeah?” A delirious edge clung to his voice, and I released him on a pop of suction and nodded. I drew him back in, sucking harder than before.
His hands shot out to either side, and a look of pained ecstasy claimed his face as he rammed his length into my mouth with unrestrained fervor.
A growl slipped past his clenched teeth, his head thrown back, stretching the wires of tension in his throat.
Faster and faster, he pumped his thighs, his grunts echoing all around me.
“Good fucking girl,” he said in a ragged and strained voice.
My whole body jostled with every fevered drive, as he plundered with greed. I slid my hands up the back of his muscled thighs to his tight ass and dug my nails into him, feeling him clench with every retreating suck.
He moaned and panted, and his thighs shook as I held him to my face. “Show me those beautiful eyes,” he rasped, and when I dragged my gaze to his, he held the back of my head, fucking my mouth with brutal decadence. Over and over, his thighs flexing with every thrust.
Drool leaked out of the corners of my lips.
His grunts heightened to a mixed sound of pain and pleasure.
Not a second later, he swayed, and warm fluids shot to the back of my throat.
I coughed and gagged, but never once broke contact with his shaft.
I gripped his cock tight, holding it steady as the sound of relief that broke from his chest bounced off the tiles and hot jets filled my mouth, dribbling down my chin.
I swallowed it back and licked the head of him again, sucking away the water-drenched cum.
The floor scraped across my shins, as he yanked me to my feet and slammed me against the tiles. Vexation and intoxication and exhaustion swirled in his eyes like a turbulent storm, as he pinned me there, heat rolling off him.
“What are you doing to me?” He rested his forehead against my shoulder, his body trembling, chest heaving. “What the fuck are you doing to me, Lilia?”
I threaded my fingers through his hair, and he gripped my bottom, lifting me up, as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
My fingertips ghosted down his neck, where the puckered flesh of his acid scars slipped past.
He pushed away, but I clutched him tighter, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Don’t. Please. I’m sorry.”
For a moment, he stilled, and then his lips were on mine, his body pressing me into the shower wall. “Why did you come in here? Why do you insist on making it worse?”
“Making it worse? Or making you want me as much as I want you?”
“We already agreed. This was only one night.” He wiped away the remnants of lipstick smeared across his mouth. “That’s all.”
“Is it? Do you honestly think everything will just magically go back to the way it was before?”
“It has to. My work is too important.”
I didn’t want his words to sting as much as they did.
I didn’t want to feel like he’d punched me in the chest and I couldn’t breathe, but that was exactly how I felt right then.
I hated myself for letting him crawl beneath my skin.
For allowing my guard to fall, to crumble into a pile of miserable rubble, knowing he would kick the pieces around.
Holding back tears, I wriggled to get loose, but his grip tightened. “Let me go.”
“No. Not until I know that you won’t say a word of this.”
“Of course not, Professor . Your reputation is safe with me.”
“It isn’t about that, Lilia. Stop being foolish and emotional. They’ll tear you apart to keep me here. Do you understand that? That is what I mean when I say my work is too important. They will make you look like an impoverished whore, to spare my good name.”
“So, what? They think that, anyway, don’t they? Don’t you ?”
He didn’t answer, only stood there, silently snarling at whatever thoughts ran through his head.
I refused to let myself regret this. No matter what he said, what he did, how it all played out in the end, the fact was, he made me feel something extraordinary.
Something no one had ever made me feel. Even at the risk of pain and longing.
“I don’t care what this was to you. It was still worth it. ”
His eyes softened, and he exhaled a breath, lowering me back to the floor.
A gentle hand ran over the top of my head, and he planted a kiss to my forehead.
“I don’t regret tonight.” He stepped past me and exited the shower.
Through the glass, I watched him nab a towel from one of the hooks on the wall and dry off.
He wrapped the towel around his waist, and with one more glance back at me, he exited the bathroom, closing the door on a quiet click.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.
It wasn’t as if I’d pined after the man, as if I’d sought him out for any reason other than the opportunity to find out more about the organism and, possibly, my mother. I’d planned to use him, too. Didn’t that make me just as shitty?
I’d survived getting ghosted by the small handful of boys I’d given blowjobs to under school bleachers and in the backseats of rusted-out cars. So, this was nothing new for me, right?
Except, it was. Everything was entirely new. The way he made me feel. The way he gave without asking for anything in return. The way his arms felt around me, and the dirty, titillating words he whispered in my ear. It was all new. It was all beautiful. And even if it was fleeting, it was perfect.
When I finally exited the shower, he sat leaning against the edge of the foldout bed, the towel still wrapped around his lower half, cigarette dangling from his fingertips. Seemingly mesmerized by the flames.
He took a drag of his smoke and tipped his head back, blowing it upward, and spared me nothing more than a glance.
Towel wrapped around myself, I scampered toward the other side of the bed and sat down on the edge of it. “Cracking open chest cavities hasn’t turned you off to smoking?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood and lessen the awkward silence.
“I don’t do it frequently. Only when I’m fucking tense, or reeling from an intense fuck, and right now, I’m both.”
“I made you tense.”
“Yes. But it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“Why is it anyone’s fault?”
He snorted and leaned forward to flick his cigarette into the flame. “No more questions tonight.” Hiking his arm over the edge of the bed, he went back to staring off at the flame, and I settled into the sheets at the opposite side.
“You should probably hate me right now,” he said, his voice stained with remorse.
“I probably should. But I don’t.”
With a mirthless chuckle, he shook his head. “Here, I thought it was the moth who would succumb to the fire.”