Chapter 17
Roni
Looking down my body, I watch Phoenix’s dark grey-streaked head rise as he stands up tall at the foot of my bed. I can tell he’s hard by the bulge in his pants, and despite the energy I’ve expelled, my mouth waters for it.
I’m transfixed while I watch him slowly unbutton his shirt. I can’t believe I didn’t rip his clothes off before… his performance.
His fingers work methodically, one button after another, revealing a canvas of tanned skin and the subtle definition of what clearly used to be hard muscles but now speak of a man focused on comfort. Not the chiseled perfection of youth, but something more authentic, earned through years of living.
“Come here,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from screaming.
Phoenix's eyes are still wild with lust as he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft crash of fabric.
The grey in his hair catches the scant light, silvery against the darkness of the room.
There's something mesmerizing about a man who wears his age with such confidence.
“Patience,” he cautions, his voice low and gravelly. His hands move to his belt at his own pace. The metal buckle clinks softly as he works it loose.
I push myself up onto my elbows, unable to look away as he slides the leather through the loops with maddening slowness. Every movement is calculated, designed to build anticipation until I'm practically vibrating with need despite having just come twice.
“You're torturing me,” I breathe, shifting restlessly against the rumpled sheets.
A slow smile spreads across his lips, the kind promising wicked things.
“Good.”
The belt hits the floor with a scant thud, and my eyes follow the path of his hands as they move to the button of his pants.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips as I imagine the weight of him, the taste.
The zipper descends with deliberate precision, and I can see more of him now, the shadow of dark hair, the promise of what's to come.
“Phoenix.” His name falls from my lips like a prayer, desperate and wanting.
He steps closer to the bed, close enough I can smell his skin, warm and masculine with a hint of the cologne I noticed earlier. The fabric of his pants hangs open, revealing the edge of black boxer briefs which do little to contain him.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice a command wrapped in velvet.
My breath catches. “I want to taste you.”
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slides them down his hips with the same torturous deliberation.
The muscles in his thighs are revealed inch by inch, powerful and dusted with dark hair which has gone silver in places.
When he steps out of the garment, he's left in only those fitted briefs straining against his arousal.
I reach for him, but he catches my wrist gently, his thumb brushing over my pulse point.
“Not yet,” he warns, and the denial makes me whimper with frustration and desire. The way he controls the pace is frustrating, but I can't deny how it heightens every sensation.
“Please,” I breathe, my voice catching. My body, though sated, hums with renewed hunger.
Phoenix's lips curve into a knowing smile again. “Since you asked so nicely.” He guides my hand to the waistband of his briefs, allowing me just enough control to feel powerful while he maintains the upper hand.
I hook my fingers beneath the elastic, dragging it down with trembling hands. His erection springs free, thick and proud, and a soft gasp escapes me. I look up to find his eyes on me, watching my reaction with his intense gaze which seems to see through every layer of pretense.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, and his cock twitches in response. I slide to the edge of the bed, and he cups my chin in his hand. He traces his thumb along my jawline again, and I feel my whole body tremble as he tilts my face up to meet him.
“You're incredible,” he says, his voice rough with desire. The sincerity in his tone makes my chest tighten with something deeper than lust.
He releases my face and I lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his hip bone, tasting the salt of his skin.
He inhales sharply, his fingers threading through my hair as I trail my lips along the line where his tan fades to paler skin.
The contrast is beautiful, telling the story of a man who spends the occasional time outdoors, but keeps some parts of himself hidden.
“God, the way you touch me,” he breathes, his grip tightening slightly in my hair. Not painful, but possessive. Guiding.
I look up at him through my lashes as I take him in my hand, feeling the weight and heat of him. His pupils dilate, nearly eclipsing the ocean of blue in his eyes. The vulnerability in his expression, the raw desire, sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
I maintain eye contact as I take him into my mouth, savoring his sharp intake of breath, the way his fingers flex against my scalp. He tastes clean with a hint of salt, and I moan around him, the vibration making his hips jerk slightly.
“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent and strained. “Your mouth—”
I take him deeper, hollowing my own cheeks this time, letting my tongue trace the underside of his shaft. His breathing grows ragged, and I can feel the restraint in his body as he fights the urge to thrust. Always controlled, even now.
My hands find his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath my fingertips.
I pull back slowly, letting my lips drag along his length before taking him deep again.
His skin heats under my touch, muscles flexing as I establish a rhythm which has him breathing harder with each passing moment.
I relish the power I hold now, turning his calculated seduction into something more primal, more desperate.
“That's it,” Phoenix groans, his voice strained. His fingers tangle deeper in my hair, guiding me but never forcing. The gentle pressure makes me moan around him again, and I feel him throb in response.
I pull back to swirl my tongue around his sensitive head, slurping drops of precum, the first hint of his arousal.
His eyes are half-lidded, but he never stops watching me.
The intensity of his stare sends shivers down my spine, making me acutely aware of how wet I still am despite my earlier releases.
“You're so good at that,” he praises, retracing my cheekbone with his finger. “But I’m not going to last if you keep it up. And I need to bury myself inside you before this night ends.”
The raw need in his voice makes me shiver, and I release him with a soft pop, my lips swollen and glistening. My body aches with renewed thirst despite being thoroughly satisfied mere minutes ago.
“Yes,” I breathe, the word barely audible as I move backward on the bed, making space for him. “I need that too.”
Phoenix follows, his movements fluid and rapacious as he climbs onto the mattress.
I feel what little slack was left in the sheets give beneath his weight, and suddenly he's above me, his body radiating heat.
His hands bracket my face as he lowers himself, claiming my mouth in a kiss, both tender and demanding.
I can taste us on his lips, and the intimacy of it makes me moan into his mouth.
“You taste—” he whispers against my lips.
“And you like—” Neither of us finishes our thoughts, but we know exactly what each of us means.
“It's intoxicating,” he adds.
His knee nudges my thighs apart, and I yield willingly, eagerly spreading for him.
The anticipation builds as his hardness brushes against my sensitive flesh, making me gasp into our kiss.
My hands roam across his back, feeling the subtle ripple of muscle beneath warm skin, tracing the gentle curve of his spine.
The anticipation is going to kill me.