His mouth. Oh God. His tongue moved like he knew exactly what I needed. I didn’t even recognize the sounds coming out of me.
My body responded to the pressure of his tongue, the curl of his fingers finding that perfect spot within me. When release came, it crashed through me completely, leaving me trembling and breathless.
Chrys stood, his body pressing against mine. I could feel his erection. I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his penis. He groaned, thrusting into my touch.
He lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carried me to bed, laying me down. He positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine.
“I’ll miss you,” I whispered.
Chrys pushed into me, his gaze never leaving mine. I felt every inch of him as he filled me slowly, his thickness stretching me deliciously. I let out a soft sigh. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a deep, languid kiss, his tongue mimicking the slow thrusts of his hips.
He broke the kiss, his lips moving to my neck, before capturing one of my nipples. He sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the taut peak.
I undulated against him, the movement heightening my pleasure. He moved to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, his body maintaining its slow, torturous pace.
My pleasure was increasing, my body responding to his deliberate movements. Our lips met again, hungry and sloppy. I dug my fingers into his backside, urging him deeper.
He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent. I matched his rhythm, my hips rising to meet his. The friction wasexquisite, the sensation of him sliding in and out of me, pushed me closer to the edge.
“Chrys,” I gasped, my body trembling as I came. He swallowed my cries, his body continuing to hammer mine.
I didn’t know I could feel this much. Like my body had been waiting for this exact moment to wake up.
As the last waves of my orgasm subsided, Chrys gripped my hips tightly. Without pulling out, he flipped us until he was beneath me.
“Ride me, aggelé mou,” he commanded.
I placed my hands on his chest for support. I began to move, my hips rising and falling as I took him deep inside me. He laid back, watching me with his hands behind his head.
“That’s it, aggelé mou,” he murmured, his voice filled with lust. “Take what you need.”
I increased my pace, my body moving with confidence, my breasts bouncing with each movement. He reached out to cup my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples. I threw my head back, my body on fire with sensation.
Suddenly, Chrys gripped my hips tightly, taking control. He thrust upwards, his pace relentless. I could feel his desperation, his need for release. I met his thrusts, our bodies moving in sync, our breaths ragged.
Our faces were inches apart, our eyes locked onto each other. The intensity of our connection was overwhelming. I leaned down, capturing his mouth in a sloppy, passionate kiss. Our teeth clashed, our tongues clashed, mimicking the wild rhythm of our bodies.
“Angel,” he groaned. “I’m close.”
“Come with me, baby,” I gasped, my body on the brink of a third orgasm. Our kiss deepened, becoming even more frantic and messy. The taste of him, the feel of his body against mine, sent me spiraling.
With a final, deep thrust, we both came undone. Our bodies convulsed, our cries of pleasure muffled by our desperate kiss. I collapsed onto his chest, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding wildly. We lay like that for a moment, our breaths ragged, our bodies entwined.
Slowly, our kiss softened, becoming tender. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. “I’ll miss you, aggelé mou,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with emotion.
I arrived at Chloros Construction precisely fifteen minutes early, my portfolio tucked under my arm. The receptionist directed meto a waiting area that smelled of industrial carpet cleaner and stale coffee.
“Mr. Chloros will be with you shortly,” she said with a smile.
When the door finally opened, it wasn’t Mr. Chloros who appeared but a man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and the permanent scowl of someone perpetually inconvenienced.
“Ms. Massey?” He barely glanced up from his phone, fingers still tapping away. “Mr. Papadopoulos. I assist Mr. Chloros and translate. This way.”
He led me to a conference room where my conceptual drawings had already been spread across the table. I noticed he’d rearranged them out of sequence.
“Mr. Chloros is running late. We can begin the preliminary review.” He finally pocketed his phone and picked up a clipboard, eyes scanning my designs with the enthusiasm of someone reading tax regulations.
“I’m excited to walk you through my vision for the restoration,” I said, extending my hand. “The historical elements combined with modern updates create a unique opportunity to—”
