Squeezed between her soft thighs with my dick buried in treasure, I dipped my head and kissed her.
She kissed me back with the hungriest lips I’d ever felt.
I rocked into her, unsure what I wanted more, her mouth or her body.
We rocked and moved, our lips staying together but slowly breaking apart as the breaths and moans filled the room. As sweat covered our bodies, we ached for the release we could both feel on the horizon.
She said my name not once or twice, but over and over. Not to claim me as hers, but to tell me I was hers, completely and utterly. She held me tighter, looked me in the eye when our kiss was broken, beautiful on the pillow with her hair splayed out on the rose gold silk.
I waited like a man, kept the bullet in the barrel with sheer determination, but my finger squeezed the trigger the second I saw her slip away. Watched her eyes moisten and then grow dazed as the euphoria rushed over her. With her tightness sealed around me, I pumped into her, giving her all I had while she took it with a begging hand.
I didn’t pull away. Chose to stay buried inside her, locked in her warmth and her slickness, my dick still hard because a buffet ofher felt like a canapé. I’d done long nights with women I couldn’t remember, but remaining hard after a wave of satisfaction had never happened to me before, let alone so consistently. But every hit of her was an increase in the dose of my addiction. There was no actual satisfaction, just another craving, and that was why we were still here a month later, and why we would still be here months and years into the future.
Her hand cupped my face, and she kissed me again, turned on because she felt my heavy load inside her. She gripped my arm and tugged slightly, like her patience had expired in just a mere second. “Luca…”
“Bringing Aliénor on Saturday?” Carvel approached me at the table near the fireplace at headquarters.
“Bringing her where?” I asked without taking my eyes off the computer.
“That charity gala. Is it a charity gala? Or is it President Martin’s birthday? I can’t remember. Can’t keep track of all that shit. The name socialite is well deserved because that’s all they fucking do…socialize.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled back through emails or texts. “Yeah, it’s his birthday.”
I must have forgotten. Didn’t have all the time in the world to plan parties and make public appearances because I was keeping this city safe for women and innocent people every hour of every fucking day.
“So, you going?”
“I guess.”
“And are you bringing?—”
“Yes.”
“Wow, it’s finally happening.”
I didn’t care for these schoolboy taunts, but it took a lot to get under my skin, and this shit didn’t make the cut. I turned away from my laptop and sent a text to Aliénor.We have a work party on Saturday night.I wanted to let her know now, just in case she made other plans with Dominic or had some kind of work dinner.
It was still early in the night, so she texted back.Sorry, who’s we? You and your boys, or are you asking me?
Was I unclear? I was really bad at this shit.You and me.
Oh, okay. What time?
I don’t know.
Do you even want to go to this thing?I could hear her playfulness even through a text.
Not really.
Okay, I’ll keep you company.She sent a bunch of emojis. Kissing emoji. Heart emoji. A girl dancing emoji. “Do I gotta get him a gift?”
“I don’t know,” Carvel said. “I know I’m not.”
“Bastien going?”
“Probably. He and Martin are still close.”
At least he’d be there. I would say a couple things to President Martin and then we’d do our own thing. “Who are you bringing?”
“Dunno.” Carvel took the seat across from me.
