Chapter 6 Flesh and Fire #2
“Nah, Lety. You’re allergic to boys who try to be men—to those who can’t appreciate the woman you are. I’m not that type of man and never will be.”
“How do I know that?” My voice is so small, barely a whisper.
My resolve is crumbling, and fast. I’ve been content being by myself.
Living my life as a cam model and swearing off men.
But loneliness still takes over in the middle of the night.
The urge to wrap myself up in the arms of someone who sees me—truly sees me—is becoming nearly impossible to ignore.
I’ve just never been able to pick out good men.
I love too hard, and it all comes crashing down around me in the end.
“Call it intuition, Lety, but I know I can be the man for you. I just need you to tear down those fucking walls, mi reina, and let me in.”
I want to. So badly, I want to. But I’m also not willing to change the important things in my life for a man. Not even this one. No matter how badly I crave him. “If you plan on fucking me and moving on, you can fuck all the way off.”
“I plan on fucking you and keeping you.”
“Is this going to get me fired?”
“I already told you it wouldn’t. Even if this ends, I won’t let you go unless you ask to be let go.”
“Well, I’m not stopping my work. I fucking love being a sex worker and it makes me feel empowered. If you can’t handle that, then—”
“Lety.” César brings his thumb back to my lips, effectively cutting me off.
There’s amusement glimmering in his eyes, and the sight makes me blush.
“I never asked you to quit, and I never will. I fucking love watching you. And now I’ll love knowing your audience can see but not touch you.
That you may come on your fingers or toys on camera, but you are coming on my cock and screaming my name afterward. ”
Fuck, this man.
This perfect, sexy man. How do I say no to that? I can’t.
“I don’t know how to be a good girlfriend,” I admit. I’m giving this man every out in the book, so he can’t blame me if this goes up in flames.
“Fair. I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend. We’ll figure this shit out together.” César braces his hands on either side of my face, taking a step closer until our bodies align and I feel every inch of him. His cock digs into my thigh, and despite myself, I moan.
“You’re mine, Lety. And I’m about to stake claim to what’s mine. This is your last out. You stay and I’m unleashing myself on you.”
Oh, fuck. His words sober me, grounding me in the moment.
“Anyone could walk in,” I remind him, but my brain screams for me to stop talking.
“I guess you better be quiet.” César doesn’t give me a chance to respond. In an instant, his lips are on mine. Hard. Rough. Punishing. He kisses me like he’s drinking me in and punishing me for leaving him the other night.
My body reacts to his, arching into him. I grind against his thigh, desperate for some friction. His hand tangles in my hair, grabbing it in his fist and pulling. Pain and pleasure explode, and I let out a breathy moan.
The bastard chuckles.
“I’m not letting you get away from me this time, Lety,” he growls against my lips.
I open my mouth to…argue? Agree? I don’t know. I don’t get the chance, though, because in the next moment his tongue is in my mouth, claiming and possessing.
I’m a woman undone.
César’s arms come around my body, and with ease I didn’t know was possible, picks me up.
I’m not a skinny girl. I have a round, soft stomach.
Thick thighs. Curves and rolls. I’ve never been picked up and carried across a room before, but César makes it seem easy.
His muscles don’t even look like they strain as he carries me.
I think I’ve officially met my match. That both terrifies and thrills me.
César sets me on his desk and moves between my legs. “I watch you play with that pretty pussy weekly. Watching you pump your fingers inside of you and tease that little clit. It’s my turn,” he growls.
“Yes, sir,” I purr, earning a growl from him. He likes it. Good.
“Open your legs.”
I do, or as much as I can in my skirt. The material bunches up, allowing me to part my thighs. But apparently, it’s not good enough for César because he pushes my skirt up, spreading my legs wide and exposing my thong.
“Already wet for me.”
That’s an understatement. I’m drenched for him.
And then César, my boss, lowers himself to his knees. The image of this mighty billionaire lawyer on his knees for me will forever be ingrained in my head. I feel powerful, sexy, and desired, something I’ve rarely felt with previous men.
César will be my undoing.
He braces his hands on my thighs, keeping me spread as if I would suddenly close my legs and change my mind. I won’t. I’m far too gone for that. He leans in closer, his nose swiping along the apex of my thighs. I shudder, and I think he does, too.
César inhales a deep breath. “Fucking perfect,” he murmurs.
Trailing his hands up my thighs, he hooks his thumbs through the top of my thong, tugging it down.
I have to wiggle and help him get them off, but soon, they are around my ankles.
I expect him to toss it to the floor, but instead, he folds them and places them in his suit pocket.
I raise my brow, but he only smirks. “These are mine now.”
Okay, then.
“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to taste you, Lety. How much you’ve tormented me…”
A shudder sends warmth through my body. “Then do it.”
César wastes no time. Like a viper, he strikes. His mouth finds my core, licking me from front to back.
“César!” I gasp, and all concept of being quiet thrown out the window.
This man takes no mercy on me, and I wouldn’t have it if he did. He finds my clit, taking the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth. Fingers notch at my entrance before I feel the pressure of two of them pushing inside of me.
It’s a lot. All at once.
And yet I crave more. He’s made me a wanton woman with nothing other than his tongue and two fingers. No man should harbor this much power.
César devours me with intent—every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers inside me is deliberate, practiced, and sexy. He’s not just going down on me—he’s unraveling me. This is a goddamned spiritual awakening.
My hips writhe beneath his mouth, chasing every pulse of pleasure he drags out of me with maddening precision.
I reach down, desperate to touch him, and thread my fingers through his hair.
It’s silky and thick, soft enough that I know I’ll crave the feel of it against my palms later—alone in bed, aching, remembering the way he made me fall apart with nothing but his mouth and that sinful determination.
And just like that, a future with César forms in my mind. It’s tentative and fragile, but it’s there. A possibility of what could happen if I allow it.
I ride my boss’s face with wild abandon, chasing a high I haven’t felt in a long time. He lets me use him for my pleasure, speeding up his fingers and sucking my clit harder, like he was born for this moment. Maybe he was. Maybe we both were.
Stars explode behind my vision, and I moan out his name. “César!” I chant his name with reverence as my orgasm rips through me, breaking me apart and putting me together again.
I fear I may never be satisfied by another man. Only him.
César pulls back slowly, his mouth wet, lips glistening with my release. He licks them with lazy satisfaction, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he knows exactly what kind of mess he’s made of me.
“You’re mine, Lety,” he murmurs, voice rough with possession. “And I’m not going to let you hide from me anymore.”
The words sink into me deeper than his kisses ever could.
“I won’t,” I whisper, my voice still ragged from pleasure. It’s a promise. A hopeful one. A scared one. One I pray I’m strong enough to keep.
My body is boneless, sprawled across his desk. My skin hums, over-sensitive and sated, every inch of me marked by his mouth, his hands, and his hunger. My breath stutters in and out as I blink up at the ceiling, still trying to catch up with what just happened.
Because this wasn’t just him eating my pussy. It wasn’t even just pleasure.
It was a claiming.
And for the first time, I don’t want to run.