50. Hendricks
HENDRICKS
Promises are liabilities.
I don’t make them lightly. I don’t make them emotionally. I sure as hell don’t make them while naked with my hand around a woman’s throat.
Yet here we are.
I’ll show you. The words should feel reckless.
They don’t. They feel like a decision.
My free hand slides under the hem of her shirt, fingers tracing up her inner thigh.
“You don’t change your mind?” she asks me as her legs open wider.
“Never.” I kiss her temple, trailing my fingers along her hip.
She studies me for another heartbeat, searching for hesitation she isn’t going to find.
Then her hand slides to the back of my neck. She rises onto her toes and brushes her lips against mine.
It’s barely a kiss.
I wait.
When she kisses me again, slower this time, I glide my fingers down to find her clit.
A shudder works through her and her hips arch, trying to get closer to my hand. Her gaze lowers to watch.
"Eyes on me," I say quietly with a tap over her pussy.
She jerks, gasping. I watch carefully, making sure she’s okay, but I can tell by the way her chest flushes and her nipples draw to sharp points that she’s aroused.
She holds my gaze as I slip my fingers into her and circle her clit with my thumb. She forces herself to keep looking at me even as her body starts to tremble. My hand around her throat tightens slightly—just enough to ground her, to remind her I have her.
“Adrian,” she whimpers, her grip on my hair tight.
I turn my head and kiss the tattoo on her wrist. “Do you need more, Amanda?”
She whimpers again in response, and I give it to her.
Her first orgasm hits fast and hard. She cries out, her body convulsing, her eyes locked on mine.
I kiss her. "That's one.”
“Oh God,” she moans, biting her lip.
My fingers curl deeper, hitting that spot inside. I feel her surrender, her body giving completely against mine, melting in trust. "You're mine, Amanda, and I keep what's mine."
The second orgasm rips through her, and I feel her legs start to give out. I hold her up with my body, my hand still working between her thighs.
"Two," I say, kissing her again.
She's gasping for air, trembling violently. "Adrian, I—"
"One more.” My thumb circles her clit with absolute precision, my fingers pump slowly, and I don’t let her look away. "Give it to me. Let go."
Her third orgasm is slower, deeper, more devastating than the first two combined. It rolls through her in waves, and my name falls from her lips over and over.
When she finally comes down, I withdraw my hand and bring my fingers to my mouth, tasting her while holding her gaze.
Then I release her throat and turn her around to face me. "On your knees," I say quietly.
I expect her to resist—I expect a smart-ass reply and anticipate having to convince her. I never expected that she’d just slide down and kneel in front of me.
Mandy on her knees should feel like victory. Instead, the look in her eyes makes it perfectly fucking clear which one of us is in trouble.
When she wraps her hand around my cock, I inhale sharply. She takes me into her mouth, and I have to brace myself against the counter.
Her tongue works me with the same precision she uses for everything else—efficient, focused, devastating.
"Fuck," I breathe. "Just like that."
She takes me deeper.
My hand fists gently in her hair, because I need to touch her. "Look at me."
She does.
Those hazel eyes stare up at me, and I'm completely undone. And there it is—the one fact I never saw coming.
I’m in love with her.
My head falls back as she takes me to the back of her throat, and the sound that comes out of me is feral. I fist her hair with both hands,
When I come, it's with her name on my lips. She swallows everything I give her, then sits back on her heels, looking up at me.
I pull her to her feet and kiss her—deep and claiming. Mine.