Cecilia – Twenty-four
The apartment was dim, lit only by the streetlights filtering through the sheer curtains and the measly lamp I had flicked on. The air felt warm, still, expectant. My breath came shallow. I turned to him, unsure what to say, but he was already watching me.
He stepped forward, one slow step at a time, like he was giving me time to change my mind.
I didn’t want to.
Theo reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His knuckles grazed my cheek. I tilted my face toward the touch before I even realised I was doing it.
“I’ve waited for this,” he said, his voice rougher than I’d ever heard it. “For you. All this time.”
My heart stuttered. He kissed me again, deeper this time. I could taste the wine still on his lips, the heat of him, the tension he’d been carrying all night.
Theo’s lips grazed the side of my neck, soft and tentative. He paused when I sighed, then kissed me there again, slower this time. My eyes fluttered shut as warmth unfurled low in my stomach.
I shifted slightly, and the heel of my shoe caught on the floor. I stumbled — only a little — enough to make me grab his shoulder for balance. He caught me easily, and we both laughed.
“Not ideal footwear for seduction,” I muttered, heat rushing to my cheeks.
“I can help,” he said, his voice quieter now, edged with something rougher.
He dropped to a crouch in front of me and gently ran a hand down my bare leg.
His palm was warm and steady. My breath caught.
He reached my ankle, fingers brushing the bone, then lifted my foot slightly to unbuckle the strap.
One shoe off. Then the other. Each movement was so careful, so deliberate, it felt obscene.
He knew what he was doing. He knew what it would do to me.
When he stood again, his eyes found mine, and everything felt quieter. Slower. His hands rose to my face, brushing my hair behind my ears, and although he’d barely touched me, I already felt like I could burst.
His thumb traced along my jaw, then over my bottom lip. I hadn’t realised I’d drawn it between my teeth until I felt the slow drag of his touch.
“Tell me what you need,” he said.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Okay,” he murmured, his voice deepening as he looked at me. “Then tell me what you want.”
I swallowed, tried again. “A kiss.”
His hands came to rest either side of my neck, holding my head in his hands. His mouth tilted at one side.
“A kiss?” he repeated, brows raised like he didn’t quite believe me. He knew me better than that. He always had.
Then he kissed me. Deep and unhurried. Tongues meeting, breath shared, hands unmoving. My whole body leaned into it. I felt the tension pour out of me, only to be replaced by something hotter, heavier.
When he drew back, I swayed forward slightly, already missing the weight of him.
“Anywhere else you want me to kiss you?” he asked. I could see the heat in his eyes and feel it burning between my legs.
I nodded.
“You’re going to have to talk to me, Celia.”
I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him. I did — completely. But the words felt stuck, heavy in my throat. What I wanted was for him to take over. To hold me down and make me forget how to think. But I didn’t know how to say that out loud.
“Theo, I need you—”
His mouth crushed against mine before I could finish. I gasped into him, fingers curling in his shirt. Then, without warning, his hands slid under my thighs and lifted me, legs locking instinctively around his waist.
“Bedroom?” he asked.
I pointed behind him, breathless. “That way.”
The reality was the apartment was rather small and there wasn’t a long way to go from the door to Siena and I’s bedrooms, but this was one of the nicer places we had stayed so far and I’d never been more grateful to have my own room.
He carried me easily, like he’d done it a hundred times, and stopped at the edge of the bed. He placed me gently on my feet and looked down at the bow on the front of my dress.
“Please tell me this actually does something.”
I laughed. “It’s fake.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, smiling now, and kissed my neck again, lips trailing up to the corner of my mouth.
I reached around and undid the real fastening. The dress slipped from my shoulders and pooled at my feet. I stepped out of it without breaking eye contact.
I wasn’t wearing a bra. Just a pair of black panties. His gaze swept over me, slow and reverent.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. Like he meant it. Like he’d never seen anything more perfect.
His hands skimmed up my sides, then over my breasts. He ran his thumbs gently over my nipples, watching them peak under his touch. Then he leaned in and took one into his mouth, sucking gently before grazing it with his teeth. I let out a sound that was more breath than voice.
My hands moved to his shirt, pushing it up. He let me pull it over his head. I ran my hands over his chest, marvelling at the warmth of his skin, the way he tensed under my touch.
There were no more jokes now. No more teasing. Just want. Just him and me and the space between us getting smaller by the second.
He murmured something against my neck — words I didn’t fully catch — then gently pressed on my hips, guiding me down onto the bed .
He kissed his way across my stomach, slow and lingering. Then lower. His lips on the inside of my thigh made my whole body tighten with anticipation.
He looked up at me, voice quiet but certain.
“Can I take these off?”
I nodded, hips lifting slightly. He slid my panties down my legs, and I could see the way his eyes darkened as he took me in. His gaze dragged over every inch of me. My chest rose and fell under the weight of it.
“You are much more breathtaking than any fantasy I could conjure up in my mind,” he stated and I felt my breath get caught from his confession.
“Does that mean I should make you beg?” I asked, voice quieter now, trying to steady the nerves coiling inside me. I hadn’t been this exposed with someone in a long time — not like this.
His hands tightened around my thighs. “You already have me on my knees for you. In a way, you always have done.”
Then he gave one firm lick, tongue dragging up the length of my slit, pausing around my clit. His mouth pulled away too quickly and I whimpered, already aching for more.
“For you, Celia, I would beg as long as you wanted me to,” he murmured, his voice thick as his gaze held mine. “How about for now, you just let me worship you and I can beg later?”
I nodded — barely — and then he fell on me, mouth hot and relentless, tongue circling and pressing and tasting like he’d been waiting years for this. My eyes rolled back as he feasted between my thighs like a man who had found God.
His tongue moved with devastating precision, teasing and circling before latching onto my clit with just enough pressure to make my legs shake. One of his hands came up to grip my thigh, steadying me as he kept going, unrelenting. The sounds leaving me weren’t controlled. I didn’t care.
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this done for from just someone’s mouth. No fumbling, no guessing. He knew. Every flick, every suck, every shift in pressure — he was reading my body like he’d always known how to.
My hand found his hair, not guiding him, just holding on. My other hand curled in the sheets. I moaned, louder this time, and he hummed in response, sending a tremor through me that made my hips jerk.
“Theo,” I gasped, chest rising and falling in uneven waves.
He didn’t stop. He didn’t even pause. He flattened his tongue and licked up again, slower this time, then pulled back just enough to look at me — face flushed, lips slick, eyes wild.
“I could stay here all night. You taste like absolute heaven,” he groaned into me and then he added a finger inside of me and I could feel myself clenching around his digit.
He must have sensed it too – felt it even and he did not relent.
Within seconds, I was crashing down around him releasing a sound I didn’t even recognise came from my own body.
He continued giving me gentle licks and kisses, working me down from my high and when I had the strength to lift my head enough to look at him, his eyes met mine and he gave me the most feral grin I had ever seen.
“You, Celia Hart, are fucking delicious,” he grinned.
He kissed his way back up, stomach against mine, his weight pressing me gently into the mattress. His lips found my jaw, my cheek, my mouth. He kissed me deeply, and I tasted myself on his tongue. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even think. I pulled him closer.
His hips rested between mine. I could feel how hard he was, thick and ready, his cock pressed against me through his jeans.
I pushed at the waistband. “Take them off.”
His lips brushed my ear. “Say please.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Please.”
He stood and stripped quickly — not clumsy, not rushed, just focused. His body was lean and strong, chest rising with each breath as he watched me watching him. My skin flushed under his gaze again.
When he crawled back between my legs, I felt it. That shift. That trembling, burning certainty that this was it. This was him.
He kissed my knee. My hip. My stomach. My breasts, sucking gently on each nipple until I was gasping again, squirming beneath him.
I reached between us, hand sliding down to touch him, to wrap my fingers around the thick weight of him. His breath hitched. But when I started to stroke him, he caught my wrist gently and shook his head.
"Not tonight," he murmured. "Tonight's about you. I need to hear those pretty sounds from your mouth again. I'm already addicted to hearing my name leave your lips when you cum."
My core clenched at his words, and I let my hand fall away, surrendering to the promise in his voice.
He lifted his head slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Not just for tonight?”
I cupped his jaw. “No. But especially tonight.”
That was all he needed.