So fucking close I can’t breathe.
A shiver runs through me as his fingers twist into a fistful of my hair, tilting my head back, his mouth grazing my ear like a soft drag of heat. “You know why I’m here, Violet,” he murmurs, his chest brushing my spine. “How long will we keepplaying this game?” His lips graze my neck—so achingly slow, so devastatingly sensual. I close my eyes, resisting the urge to lean into him.
“What game?” I manage barely.
“The one where you pretend you don’t want this,” he breathes. “The one I'll always win.”
His knuckles skim the swell of my breast, a feather-light touch that slides down over my stomach. Then lower—until he’s brushing against the silk between my thighs, a gentle caress that makes my body tighten in response.
I bite back a sound, my breath catching, legs trembling as every bit of resistance I have starts to fray.
“Did you really think I’d see you in this dress tonight and not want a taste?”
He fingers the strap of my dress, pushing it aside, his warm breath skating across my shoulder before he nips at the skin, the sharp bite stealing a gasp from my lips.
“I didn’t think of you when I was getting dressed,” I choke out, sarcasm crumbling into a whimper as his teeth sink into the slope of my neck.
He chuckles, low and wicked, the sound brushing over my skin like smoke.
“Pity,” he murmurs, easing the fabric lower. “But you can think of me while I undress you, Violet.”
A moan claws its way up my throat as his hand cups my breast, fingers teasing the taut nipple until my vision blurs. My head drops back onto his chest, my body melting into his, a quiet surrender threading through my limbs.
The second he senses I’m his, he draws me close—his smile dripping arrogance, hands locking on my hips, making sure I feel every hard inch of him. A low, primal sound escapes him as I buck against him, chasing every grind of his hips. He hikes up my dress, fingers skimming the lace of my thong before tuggingat the elastic—each pull sending a pulse straight to my clit. My lungs burn as his finger inches inside the seam, teasing through the swollen lips before pushing deeper.
“Watch yourself, Violet,” he growls, his hand gripping my chin, forcing my gaze to the mirror. My eyes snap open, meeting my reflection—expecting shame. Instead, I moan at the sight of my bare breasts, hard nipples straining against the top of my dress as I grind down on his finger.
“See what a good girl you are. How wet my little hellion is for me.” He brings his fingers to my mouth and lets me taste myself. He stares at my reflection as I lick his fingers clean, his jaw grinding, eyes blazing like he’s barely clinging on.
“You should know by now, Violet, that I always get what I want. And right now, you’re all that I want.” I inhale a sharp breath as he peels off my panties, casting them aside with a groan. His fingers replace the lace, slipping between my folds, his thumb circling the aching bud in slow, lazy strokes.
“I think this tight pussy wants to play with my tongue. Isn’t that right, Violet?”
A strangled “yes” breaks from my throat, a moan spilling over the word as his palm drags up my spine, stroking the bare skin before pushing me forward over the counter.
“Yes, what, Violet?”
“Yes, please.”
“That’s better.” His warm breath caresses my thighs as his fingers tighten on my ass, splaying me open. I cry out at the sudden crack of his palm against my ass, the sharp sting bleeding into a heady, liquid pleasure. The rush of it steals my breath.
His fingers glide over the burn, soothing, his voice thick with hunger.
“Violet, eyes on me.” I lift my head, locking onto his reflection. The way he’s watching me with pure possession sends another rush of heat between my thighs.
“Now you’re going to come all over my tongue and face like a good girl. Do you understand?”
I nod, my eyes rolling back as I feel the first drag of his tongue along my slit like a flame. Everything else fades. The music outside, the laughter, the entire party—it all ceases to exist. All that’s left is the wet heat of his mouth and his throaty groans of pleasure as he devours me.
I writhe against him shamelessly, lost in the tormenting rhythm—the slow, sensual drags of his tongue that melt into deep, greedy strokes. His grip tightens as he begins to fuck me with his tongue, plunging it so deep I’m crying out with each pump. Pushing me to the edge and letting me hang, my body trembling as it seeks relief.
A sudden rattle at the door handle jolts me back to reality, my breath catching as a firm knock follows. Muffled voices filter through the door. “Shoot, it’s locked.” A pause. “Go grab the key from reception.”
“Ignore it,” he growls, his lips brushing against my swollen clit before sealing around it and sucking hard. My body caves, my knees threatening to buckle as white-hot pleasure coils low in my belly, building with each relentless stroke of his tongue.
The voices outside return, more insistent this time, and the jangle of keys sends a wave of panic through me—but I’m past caring. The only thing that matters is the unbearable ache, the pleasure swelling, tightening, spreading like wildfire under my skin.
“That’s it, baby, now fucking come for me, right now,” he rasps, commanding and rough.
