His touch sends sparks skittering under my skin. All my senses respond to him, to his proximity, his heat, the way his pupils have gone dark with want as he looks at me.
"I’m relaxed," I admit. "Finally."
"Good." His thumb brushes the hollow of my throat, right where my pulse is hammering. "That's what I was hoping for."
His other hand settles on the arm of my chair, caging me in without actually touching. The air between us feels charged, heavy with everything we're not saying out loud. With all that we need from each other, now and always.
I reach up, letting my fingers trace the ridges of his abdomen. His muscles contract under my touch, his sharp inhale making it clear that I'm affecting him as much as he's affecting me. "Did you finish your calls?"
"Mmm." It's not really an answer, but more of a low growl. His attention is fixed on where my hand rests against his stomach, right above the loose waistband of his pants. "All handled."
I smile at him. "So you're free for… other things."
"Completely free." His hand slides into my hair, fingers curling against my scalp with just enough pressure to make me shiver. "What did you have in mind, beautiful?"
I let my hand drift lower, palm flattening against him. He's already hard, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable through the thin linen. His jaw tightens, that muscle in his cheek jumping the way it does when he's holding himself in check.
"I have a few ideas." I look up at him suggestively, emboldened by the privacy, the freedom of knowing no one's going to interrupt us. "Unless you have other plans?"
"Plans." His voice has gone rough. "I have very specific plans that involve getting you out of that robe and making you come from now until sunrise tomorrow."
Heat floods through me. "That's ambitious."
"Angel." He leans down, his mouth finding the sensitive spot below my ear. "Are you saying you doubt me?"
“Never.” The word comes out on a shivery breath as his lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point, and my head falls back against the chair.
My robe slides off my shoulders, completely undone now, the belt loosening as his hands find skin. But I'm not ready to surrender control to him just yet. I have plans of my own where my sexy fiancé is concerned.
I press my palm more firmly against him, feeling him twitch in response. "What if I want to taste you first?"
He goes very still, leaning over me. Then his hand tightens in my hair, pulling just enough to send pleasure-pain racing down my spine. When he speaks, his voice is pure gravel. "You know I’ll never deny you anything you want."
"Good." My hands are already going to his waistband. I smile up at him as I work the drawstring loose. "Because right now I want my mouth on you."
"Fuck." It's barely a whisper. His hand gentles in my hair, thumb stroking along my nape with devastating tenderness. "You're going to wreck me."
"That's the idea."
The linen falls away easily. His cock emerges hard and heavy and gorgeous, and I don't waste time on pretense or teasing. I want this. I want to give him the kind of pleasure that strips away every layer of control he keeps wrapped around himself like armor.
I take him in my hand first, feeling the weight and heat of him, the way his thick, veined shaft pulses against my palm. His breath hitches, his chest rising and falling faster while he looks down at me. The hand in my hair tightens just slightly, not directing, just... holding on.
Then I lean in and take him into my mouth.
"Christ." The word tears out of him, jagged and sharp. His hips jerk forward instinctively before he locks himself down, muscles rigid with the effort of staying still. "Avery—"
I hum in response, which makes him curse again, and then I lose myself in the rhythm. The taste of him is addicting—salt and musk and something purely Nick. The sounds he makes when I take him into my throat only makes me want to give him more, to drive him wild. I’m spurred on by the way his control starts to fracture, his breathing going ragged, his fingers flexing against my scalp.
"That's—" He sucks in a hiss of air between his teeth. His head falls back, throat working as he swallows hard. "Your mouth, angel. Fuck, your mouth is amazing."
I take him deeper, hands braced on his thighs, and the groan he makes goes straight to my core. I'm aching, wet, desperate for him, but right now this is everything. Watching him come undone. Feeling the tremors run through his body as I work him. Knowing I'm the one reducing him to incoherent need.
His control shatters on a strangle curse. One hand still fisted in my hair, the other gripping the back of the chair hard enough that his knuckles have gone white. His hips start moving in shallow thrusts, and I open for him, relaxing my throat, letting him take what he needs.
"I’m gonna come," he grits out, giving me the option to pull back.
I don't. I want it. I want to feel him break apart. I want to taste him as he explodes, want to take everything he's giving me.
