When he yanked me back again, I sucked in a few greedy lungfuls of air. My face felt flushed, both from not breathing and from how hot this was. He shoved himself back into my mouth, his cock twitching when my throat constricted around him again.
A soft grunt tumbled past his lips and had me instantly spreading my legs and gripping my own hard on trapped inside my pants.
The relief wasn’t at all what I wanted.
Spit dribbled past my lips and down my chin, slicking the lower half of my face when he pulled me off of him again.
“One more,” he murmured, raking in a deep breath.
My balls squeezed. Oh my god, I was actually going to come in my pants. Watching this man come undone was better than getting fucked.
Practically unhinging my jaw for him, he rolled his hips in an easy motion, a harsh exhale escaping him the moment my lips sealed around him and trapped him inside the warm heat of my mouth. This time, he didn’t shove himself down my throat and gag me, instead he kept the tip pressed against the inside of my cheek.
His other hand came around to cup the back of my head while he fucked my mouth. Slow and lazy, taking his time. His expression shifted just enough to be noticeable the second my tongue glided along the underside of him, tracing that thick vein.
I wondered how he looked with other people. When he let another man get down on their knees for him.
Did they get to experience Silas like this, too?
Or was that only reserved for me?
My lips smacked together when he pulled out again, his cock dripping from my spit and jumping once as the cool air hit it. My throat ached.
Silas really was impressive to look at.
Up close like this, the tattoo spanning across his hip was easier to see. Unlike the flash I’d seen in the hospital, from here, I could recognize the swirling pattern that looked almost like thick filigree. Blacked out in dark ink with red and orange outlining the arches of the swirls. The stark contrast between the colors was beautiful.
As soon as I reached up to touch him, he slapped my hand back.
“Up,” he said, grabbing the front of my jacket and hauling me off the floor.
I stumbled backward as he shoved me, tipping over the second the backs of my knees knocked against the mattress and landing me flat onto the cushy surface. Down feathers cocooned me instantly. It was silky to the touch, suggesting an astronomically high thread count.
Of course he’d sleep with a fucking duvet. No doubt costing more than my weekly paycheck.
He made quick work of stripping my shirt and pants off, clearly not in the mood to peel them off my body like he’d suggested the last time we were in this position. I had a feeling—or maybe it was a hope—that he was too turned on to wait any longer, my teasing from earlier finally coming to a head.
I lifted myself up onto my arms to watch him.
He paused and took in the garter set he’d picked out, complete with the stockings that were held up by the clips attached on the sides. I’d paired it with two matching thigh bands, with small dangling crystals that were sewn into the fabric like small rain droplets, hanging down and dragging against my thighs when I moved.
A small spark of pain shot through me when he snapped one of the bands. “What arethese?”
“Told you,” I said, clapping my thighs together merely out of an act of defiance. “A surprise.”
Honestly, I’d added them at the last minute before heading out the door. My set was already perfect on its own, showing off my curves in a sensual way that drove most men I allowed to take me to bed crazy.
But for some reason, as I’d unhooked one of my nice shirts from out of my closet and began to pull it on over my head, I’d caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A garter belt, silk panties, and a pair of mesh stockings were a killer combo. It was the only thing he’d requested I come to dinner with.
And yet, I’d still dug into my jewelry box that I kept tucked in the back of my closet and fished out the unwrapped box these bands had come in. Unwrapping them from the tissue paper and sliding them up my thighs until they rested right above my stocking lines.
The second I had them on, I knew I needed to keep them. They were perfect.
Silas was the first one to see them on me.
I kept that shit to myself, though. Spilling that information wasn’t exactly hookup material.
He ripped my legs apart, digging his fingers into my skin, and wrenching them both back until I was practically bent in half.
