I wrapped my hand around the base and offered her a crooked smile. “Are you still thirsty, Selene?”
Her eyes met mine for half a second before she slid from the table and dropped to her knees.
Her hand came first—warm and sure, fingers wrapping around me like she already knew how I liked it. Her mouth followed, slow and devastating, tongue swirling against the wine-slick skin like she wanted to memorize the taste.
I groaned, one hand braced on the table, the other sinking into her hair.
Fuuuuuck.
She hummed around me, a smug little sound that nearly buckled my knees. Her mouth was hot and wet and perfect, sliding down inch by inch like she wasn’t afraid of what I’d do to her. My breath hitched as I watched the glide of her lips over the thick length of my cock, the way her hand twisted at the base, working in tandem with her mouth like she wanted to ruin me.
“Jesus, Selene.” My voice cracked, hand tightening in her hair. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”
She moaned in response, the sound vibrating through me. My hips jerked.
Her tongue licked the underside of my cock, tracing the vein there before she hollowed her cheeks and took me deeper.My eyes rolled back. I could feel her throat working, feel the soft constriction around the head as she fought her reflex and swallowed me.
I looked down, and fuck—her lashes were wet.
She gagged once, pulling back with a gasp and spit slicking her lips and chin. Her hand never stopped moving. Her eyes lifted to mine, glassy and wild.
“Goddamn,” I groaned, chest heaving. “You look so pretty like this. Eyes watering, mouth full of me. Do you know what that does to a man?”
I couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop touching. I thumbed her jaw gently, then dragged my fingers into her hair again, guiding her movements with a tenderness that proved how hard I was fighting not to come.
She whimpered, and it was like she wanted to prove something—because she went back down, deeper this time, taking me to the back of her throat with determined abandon. Her nails dug into my thigh as she swallowed again, and I nearly lost it right then.
“Fuck—just like that. Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch.” My hips rocked forward, slow but insistent, and she let me. She moaned around me—wrecked and eager—and the sound, the feel, the utter trust of it, cracked something deep inside me.
“Such a good girl,” I growled, tightening my grip just enough to steady her. “Letting me fuck your throat like it’s mine.”
She sucked like she had something to prove, or like she needed to claim me with her lips and tongue.
And she did.
Because I was hers now. There was absolutely no going back.
When I couldn’t take it anymore—when the sharp edge of pleasure wound too tight to bear—I pulled her up, hauled her into my arms, and kissed her like it was the only language I had left.
Her legs wrapped around my waist. Her dress bunched at her hips. I grabbed her ass and slammed her back against the edge of the table, nudging the head of my cock at her entrance.
“I want this.” My eyes never left hers.
She swallowed hard and nodded. “Me too.”
I reached for my jeans, tugging out the condom I kept in my wallet. It wasn’t cocky—it was careful. I was aware that Selene would be alone this weekend, and some hopeful part of me hadn’t been able to function without being ready.
I worked it down the length of my shaft, and in one slow, devastating thrust, I slid inside her.
We both gasped.
Selene clutched my shoulders, breath stuttering as I filled her. My hand slid up her back, holding her close, my forehead pressed to hers.
“I’ve got you,” I said, voice low and rough.
Then I started to move. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was everything I hadn’t let myself want. Everything I’d held back from her, now unleashed like a storm I couldn’t outrun.
She moaned my name like a plea.
