My heart hammers against my ribs as I lead her toward the stairs. Each step we climb feels heavy with anticipation. I’ve imagined this moment. Bringing her here, to my space, my bed, more times than I can count. But the reality of her hand in mine, her feet on my stairs, outshines every fantasy.
My bedroom takes up most of the top floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the bay just like downstairs and a large ensuite bathroom. The king-sized bed sits centered on one wall. Simple dark sheets made this morning without knowing they’d see her tonight. The moon is bright enough that we still don’t need lights, just silver-blue glow washing over everything.
Lila moves to the window, looking out at the water. “The view is incredible.”
I come up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist. “I know,” I murmur, but I’m not looking at the bay. I’m looking at her reflection in the glass, the way the moonlight catches in her hair, illuminates the curve of her cheek.
She turns in my arms, her back to the window now, face tilted up to mine. There’s vulnerability in her eyes, but nofear. Just trust and want and something deeper I don’t dare name yet.
“I’ve been thinking about this since that night at the club,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “About your hands on me. Your mouth.”
The memory of that night, her soft gasps, the taste of her lips. The way she came apart under my tongue sends heat rushing through me. “I haven’t thought about anything else.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft at first, then deeper as her hands find my hair, tugging me closer. I moan against her mouth, hands sliding down to cup her ass, lifting her slightly. She’s so fucking perfect in my arms, like she was made to be there.
I walk her backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. When her legs hit the mattress, I ease her down, following her body with mine, careful not to crush her with my weight. The feel of her beneath me, soft curves pressed against me. It's intoxicating.
“Too many clothes,” she murmurs against my mouth, tugging at my shirt.
I sit back on my heels, straddling her thighs, and slowly unbutton my shirt. Her eyes follow my fingers, hungry and appreciative. When I shrug it off, her hands immediately go to my chest, tracing the muscles there, fingertips ghosting over my skin.
She sits up enough for me to pull her dress over her head, revealing a simple black bra underneath. My breath catches at the sight of her. The full curves of her breasts rising above black lace, the soft swell of her stomach, the way her skin glows in the moonlight.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I breathe, unable to keep the reverence from my voice.
A shadow crosses her face. “Eli always said I was too fat.”
Anger flares hot in my chest at the mention of his name, at the knowledge that he made her feel anything less than perfect. “Eli was a blind, stupid asshole,” I say firmly, placing my hands on her waist. “Every inch of you is exactly how it should be.”
I lean down and kiss her collarbone, the soft skin above her breasts, the valley between them. Her breath hitches as I reach behind her to unhook her bra, sliding it down her arms and tossing it aside. Her breasts fall free, full and perfect, nipples hardening in the cool air of the room.
“God, look at you,” I murmur, cupping one breast in my palm, brushing my thumb over the nipple. She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.
I lower my head and take the hardened peak into my mouth, sucking gently, then more firmly as her hands find my hair again, holding me against her. The sounds she makes, little gasps and whimpers, drive me wild. I switch to her other breast, giving it the same attention while my hand continues to massage the first.
Her hips are moving restlessly beneath me, seeking friction. I slide one hand down her stomach to the waistband of her panties. She lifts her hips to help me remove them, leaving her in nothing.
I sit back again, drinking in the sight of her naked on my bed. “I’ve dreamed about this,” I admit, running my hands up her thighs. “About having you here.”
The sight of her completely naked makes my cock throb painfully against the confines of my jeans.
I slide down the bed, positioning myself between her legs, pushing her thighs gently apart and lifting her legs over my shoulders. She’s already wet, glistening in the moonlight. I blow softly against her core, watching her shiver at the sensation.
“Please,” she whispers, hips rising slightly.
“Please what?” I ask, needing to hear her say it. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
“Your mouth. I need your mouth on me. Don’t make me wait.”
I lower my head and lick a slow, deliberate stripe from her entrance to her clit. She gasps, body tensing at the contact. I do it again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her on my tongue. She’s sweet and perfectly Lila, and I could happily drown in her.
I focus on her clit, circling it with my tongue, then sucking gently. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head, her breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. I slide one finger inside her, then another, curling them forward to hit that spot that makes her cry out.
“Anthony,” she moans, the sound of my name on her lips sending a surge of pride through me.
I work her with my fingers and mouth, finding a rhythm that has her writhing beneath me. Her hands fist in the sheets, then in my hair, pulling almost painfully.
I love it.
