"What if..." I began, the words emerging rough and uneven as I pulled back to look at her. "What if I said I wanted to fuck your tits?"
Her pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the green of her irises. She licked her lips, a gesture so unconsciously erotic I nearly groaned. "Then I'd ask you what you were waiting for."
Fuck. This woman would be the death of me.
I stood, making quick work of my remaining shirt buttons before shrugging it off. Cecelia's eyes devoured me, her gaze hungry as it traveled across my chest, lingering on the tattoo that spilled over my shoulder and down my arm. When her fingers reached out to trace the fallen angel inked into my bicep, I nearly lost it.
"Lie back," I commanded, unbuckling my belt with hands that were far less steady than I'd like. "All the way."
She complied immediately, settling back against the arm of the couch, her head cushioned on the soft leather. I kicked off my shoes and pushed my pants and boxers down in one motion, finally freeing my cock. It jutted out, hard and aching, the head already glistening with pre-cum. Cecelia's eyes widened, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip in a gesture that nearly made me come on the spot.
Moving carefully, I positioned myself above her, straddling her ribs with my knees on either side of her torso. Like this, my cock lay heavy between her breasts and the contrast of my oliveskin against her paler complexion made me throb with need. I gathered her breasts in my hands and pushed them together to create a channel for my cock.
"Fuck," I groaned as I slid between her breasts. "So good."
Cecelia watched with rapt fascination as the head of my cock emerged from between her breasts, then disappeared again. The sight was obscene and beautiful all at once—my cock sliding between those perfect tits, her eyes wide and dark with desire, and those perfect lips parted in wonder.
"Look at you," I said, voice dropping to a rough growl as I established a rhythm. "You like this, don't you? Like watching me lose control for you."
She nodded as her hands came up to cover mine, adding pressure to the soft flesh of her breasts. "Yes," she admitted, and the vulnerability in that single word nearly stopped my heart. "I like knowing I can make you feel this way."
I wouldn't last. Not with the heat of her skin against mine, not with the visual of my cock disappearing between her breasts, not with the knowledge that she was letting me use her body for my pleasure without asking for anything in return.
It was too much. She was too much.
"Spit," I ordered, and when she looked confused, I clarified, "On my cock. The next time it comes up."
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and the next time the head of my cock emerged from between her breasts, she leaned forward slightly and let a string of saliva fall from her mouth onto the sensitive tip. The added lubrication, combined with the erotic sight of her mouth so close to my cock, sent electricity down my spine.
"Fuck, yes," I hissed, increasing my pace. "Just like that. So fucking perfect."
My rhythm grew erratic as the pressure built at the base of my spine, as heat coiled tighter and tighter in my groin. I was close,so fucking close, and some dim part of my brain recognized that I should pull away, should finish somewhere else, but I couldn't bring myself to stop.
"I'm going to come," I warned, voice strangled. "All over these perfect tits."
Cecelia's eyes locked with mine. "Do it," she said, and that simple permission was all it took.
My release hit me like a freight train, pleasure exploding behind my lids as I emptied myself onto her chest and neck. Wave after wave crashed through me, leaving me shaking and gasping her name like a prayer. For a moment, my vision actually whited out as the intensity of my orgasm stole my sight and left me reeling.
When I came back to myself, Cecelia was watching me with a small, satisfied smile, as if she'd just discovered some great secret. I looked down at the mess I'd made of her and felt a strange mixture of pride and tenderness.
Without speaking, I reached for her underwear in my discarded pants and used it to gently clean her off. My hands trembled slightly as I wiped away the evidence of my pleasure from her soft skin. This part felt almost more intimate than the act itself—this careful tending to her afterward, this unspoken acknowledgment of what we'd shared.
"I think," I said, voice still not quite steady, "it's time to go home."
She caught my hand as I finished cleaning her and pressed it flat against her chest where I could feel the strong, steady beat of her heart. "That was incredible," she said softly. "You're incredible."
Something shifted between us in that moment, something fundamental and irreversible. This wasn't just physical anymore, wasn't just a marriage of convenience or an arrangement of mutual benefit. This was something elseentirely, something that scared the hell out of me even as I craved more of it.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers in a gentle kiss that bore none of the earlier savagery. "Let's go home," I repeated against her mouth. "Our home."
The word felt different now. Home. Not just my penthouse where she happened to stay, but our space, our sanctuary. As I helped her dress and put myself back together, I knew with absolute certainty that nothing would ever be the same. Whatever boundaries I'd tried to maintain, whatever distance I'd insisted on keeping, it was all gone now, swept away by the tidal wave of what had happened between us.
And for the first time in my life, I didn't mind losing control.
Chapter 23
Cece
