She hums her approval, and I nearly lose every scrap of control I’ve ever had.
I can’t. Not yet. Not like this.
I force my eyes open, and the sight hits right in my chest. Her on her knees, worship and wickedness in her eyes, my hard dick in her mouth, and I know then this is a memory that will live on forever deep in my bones.
I place my palms under her arms, guiding her up slowly, and my trousers puddle at my ankles. I kick them off, and she stands before me, flushed, eyes dark and shining with want.
“Take your top off,” I say—not a command, a plea from somewhere beyond reason.
She moves immediately, fingers finding the clasp behind her neck, metal sliding loose. The fabric falls and she is bare, glorious, breathtaking. Her nipples are soft-pink peaks, and I feel the immediate need to have them in my mouth, so I do.
I lift her, her legs winding around my waist, then carry her across the flat, my mouth everywhere, greedy, reverent, and sucking her perfect tits. Then we cross the threshold of my room, where the city lights paint silver across her skin.
For a second, everything slows.
Her breath is warm against my throat. Her heartbeat echoes against my ribs, trying to sync with mine.
I’ve had trophies, contracts, stadiums roaring my name, but nothing has ever felt like this.
Not one goddamn thing.
I adjust her higher in my arms, her skin fever-hot under my hands, and her eyes pull me under like a tide I never want to escape.
“There’s no going back, kitten,” I breathe against her skin, voice wrecked, heart already hers. “You are all mine.”
And God help me, I don’t ever want to let her go.
Chapter 33
His voice is a whisper against my neck and sends shivers down my entire body. Never—not in twenty-five years—have I felt this in front of someone. This naked. This seen. This wanted.
Not in front of a man carved like temptation, lifting me with a certainty that silences every old insecurity in my bones.
He is all strength and heat and solid muscle, where I am softness and curves, yet I have never felt more powerful. More beautiful. More free.
Somewhere far inside, my insecurities scream, but they can’t reach me here. Not with him looking at me like I’m something holy and he’s starving for me.
“You’re all mine,” he murmurs, voice low and raw, lips dragging against my skin.
I break. Completely. Heat floods through me, pooling low and heavy, need curling tight and sharp inside me.
He lowers me to the bed, and I sink into it, breath caught somewhere between my ribs and my heart. I lie there staring up at him, speechless, worshipping every inch of him—broad shoulders, sculpted chest, hunger burning in his eyes, his erection standing firm, its head glossy with pre-cum.
My breath catches. Before I can think, he’s between my legs, unbuttoning my jeans, sliding them down, stripping me until all that remains is my blue thong—soaked and useless.
He palms his jutting erection, watching me, and I am gone. I could come just watching him.
My thighs shake. He reaches for me, both hands warm on my waist, and drags my panties down agonizingly slowly, never breaking eye contact. They hit the floor, and his body settles over mine, arms braced around my head, his mouth claiming mine in a slow, devastating kiss.
“Bloody hell, that sweet fucking mouth,” he breathes, hips flexing forward, sliding his cock over my lips. My throbbing clitoris gets a feel of him, and I’m convinced I am dying, but if this is death, I really don’t mind ending this way.
“Roger, please,” I whisper, breath shaking. “Fuck me.”
He groans, deep and sinful, and suddenly we flip. I gasp as I end up straddling him, my throbbing center right over his erection, heat sparking everywhere at once.
And God, I feel powerful. Like a goddess. Like I could swallow the world whole and he’d thank me for it.
“Roger, I—”
