Delilah
Iwalked Adrian back to my tiny apartment, tiny at least compared to his penthouse.
But I wasn’t thinking one iota about that.
I wasn’t even sure that I was thinking at that moment, because honestly, the prior several weeks had been filled with way too much thinking.
Thinking, really, had always been a mechanism of control. Thinking about how the future would go… thinking about how compatible we were… thinking about what I wanted my career to be. It was obviously true that thinking was not only necessary, it was extraordinarily useful in ninety-nine percent of situations.
But sometimes, you had to turn your damn brain off. You just had to go with what you felt and be present. And this was one of those one-percent moments.
I felt Adrian’s hand in mine as I walked him to my place, and I just felt unbelievable heat pulsing through my body. Not the kind of heat that arose from pressure, but the gentle, warm glow of a pleasant summer day on the beach.
I felt nervousness as I walked up the stairs to my apartment. Not the kind of nervousness from wondering if we were doingthe right thing, but the nervousness akin to someone about to go on a first date or a first dance.
I felt unbelievably aroused and connected as I opened the door to my penthouse and turned to kiss Adrian once more. Not the kind of arousal where I threw caution to the wind or made stupid decisions, but the kind of safe arousal where I knew I was grounded in my shared vulnerability with Adrian.
I could think about how far we’d come. I could think about the unreal changes we’d made. I could think about many invaluable, life-altering moments before us.
But I felt safe, cherished, and seen. Who needed to think when I felt those things?
Adrian and I half tumbled into the dark penthouse. I worked to find a light switch, but Adrian pushed my arms down.
“You said you trusted me,” he said. “Then trust me to make this the most unforgettable night you’ve ever had.”
I swallowed, trying not to explode with excitement. He spun me in place, turning my back to him, before he kissed my neck, all the while gently running his hands across my body. His hands never rushed to one spot, but they never sat too long, either. He moved as if exploring every sensitive part just long enough that it made me squirm, but not so long that I became desensitized.
It was made all the better by the fact that it was too dark to see where his hands were going, but with enough light that I could make out the handsome silhouette of the billionaire.
He picked me up suddenly, but then gently guided me to the bed. I expected to be thrown down, tossed like a rag doll, taken.
But instead, he gently placed me down in front of the bed, slowly undressing me. Off went my shirt. Then my shoes, socks, and pants, leaving me in nothing but my bra and underwear. But once more, instead of rushing things, he moved like a gentle river, his hands and body brushing over me but not yetdominating me. He would caress my face, put my hair behind my ear, and kiss me.
It was so unlike what I had come to expect from the King of Diamonds that it almost seemed deliberate. For a hot second, I tried to think about whether this was another game.
But then I told myself to stop thinking and start feeling.
I’d had plenty of time to think. Too much of it, really. It was time to start feeling.
“You,” he said as he smoothly removed my bra, tossing it to the side, “are all I see right now. You are all I want right now. You are all I need. And you.”
He finally moved his fingers around my underwear and slid them down. He came up, kissing me from knee to hip—with a brief touch where it tingled most—up to my breasts and to my neck.
“Are mine.”
If Adrian had meant to go slow, being naked and with a sentence like that took away my ability to want to go slow. I pulled him in for a tongue-filled kiss, tearing off his clothes far more aggressively than he had mine. Adrian might have needed to go with an unspoken flow, the better to show that he was not playing games, was not trying to manipulate me, but I had no such reservations.
I fucking needed him, and he’d pushed me to a point where I could not pretend otherwise. I didn’t need to remind myself to stop thinking—I was fully immersed in this moment.
I had him down to his underwear before he pushed me onto the bed. I kept trying to reach for his underwear, to pull his cock out and begin pleasuring him, but, strangely, he seemed to move as if he wouldn’t let me. We still kissed, and he still found my erogenous spots with the perfect blend of tease and escape. But what was this?
“You first,” he said. “I’ve put myself first for far too long. It’s about damn time that you come first.”
Oh.
Fuck.
Yes.
