He lets out a low, throaty noise but says, “You don’t have to.”
“I know. I want to. Please.”
He nods, and I tighten my grip slightly. His shaft pulses beneath my touch, and the immediate sensation only spurs me on.
Ambrose’s eyes close, and his head falls back as I begin to stroke him slowly. I linger at the tip, teasing the sensitiveridge with the pad of my thumb, which causes him to suck in a sharp breath.
I sink to my knees before him, desperate to taste him, to give him the same carnal pleasure he gave me. Leaning in, I drag my tongue along his length, loving the low growl of approval it elicits from him.
When I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock, he groans softly, and I’m emboldened to ease him deeper into my mouth. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, and much longer since I’ve done it with this much desire. My throat constricts around him as I slowly find a rhythm, taking him as deep as I possibly can.
“That’s right, baby. You’re doing so fucking good,” he praises, as if he can hear the insecurities lingering in my mind, and his words shoot straight to my core. I don’t even remember the last time I was this aroused, let alone after already having one orgasm.What is this man doing to me?
He shouldn’t make me feel this good, yet he does. But right now, I can’t find it in me to care.
I pull back for only a moment, taking a deep breath before suctioning my lips around him and sucking his cock like my life depends on it. My head bobs back and forth, and his fingers tangle in my hair once again, the slight pressure from his hand enough to guide me but not enough to be forceful.
Ambrose’s hand tightens in my hair, his breathing becoming more erratic as he thrust his hips to meet me. I manage to glance up at him, and he’s the perfect image of beauty and sin—his eyes are hooded, his dark, wet hair falling over his face, and streams of water running down his torso as he fucks my throat.
“Brielle, I’m going to come in your mouth if you don’t stop.”
I don’t pull away. I want to watch him come undone because of me.
With a low moan, his cock pulses and he comes in my mouth. I swallow eagerly, reveling in the lewdness of it all.
When his grip loosens in my hair, I slowly withdraw, wiping my mouth with my forearm and grinning up at him. He watches me as I stand, his dark eyes filled with lust, satisfaction, and a fleeting array of emotion that I can’t quite understand.
He pulls me in for a long, slow kiss, caressing my skin with reverence before pulling away.
With a playful smirk, he leans in to murmur, “Want to know a secret? I’ve wanted to feel your lips wrapped around my cock from the first moment you walked into this house, and that was a million times better than it was in my dreams.”
Pride swell inside me, and I shake my head at him feigning disapproval at his statement, though I can’t keep the smile off my face.
It takes a moment for us to come back down from the high, though our return to reality is quickened by the water cooling down with every passing minute.
Ambrose steps out of the shower first, quickly drying himself off and wrapping a towel around his waist before grabbing another. I wring as much water out of my hair as I can before stepping onto the bath mat, then hold out my hand to take the towel from him.
“Let me,” he says.
Ambrose closes the small distance between us and drags the fluffy towel over my shoulders, my torso, my legs. He covers every inch of skin before standing back up and wrapping it around me. I can’t help but stare into his eyes as he tucks the top piece of fabric in to secure it. He’s so close, anda part of me still can’t believe this is real. The exhaustion is hitting me hard, making me wonder if this is all a dream.
It’s not like this would be the first time he’s made an appearance in one of my dreams.
I don’t know if it’s reassuring or not that this is undoubtedly real. His caress is too tangible, his features too clear. His eyes are heavy with a combination of awe and affection, and it constricts my heart with unexpected emotion.
This is what it’s like to be cared for, I think. To feel safe and—dare I say—loved.
God, I shouldn’t even start thinking like that. To admit to loving him would mean admitting to a connection in spite of our circumstances—circumstances thathecreated. Could I ever truly love someone who took away my choice, who forced me into servitude like this?
I wish the answer weren’t so complicated.
Interrupting my thoughts, Ambrose surprises me by asking, “Will you sleep in my bed with me tonight?”
I immediately answer yes without considering what more it could mean.
Tonight, I don’t want to consider the consequences of my choices or the implications of our actions. All I want is to sink into bed beside him, forget the outside world, and pretend like this is the life I’ve chosen for myself.
So, that’s exactly what I do.
