“That’s… wow.” He reaches over to take my hand. “That’s huge, Honeybee. Congratulations.”
“Nothing’s decided yet,” I say quickly. “They’re also considering William, of all people.”
Aaron snorts. “That pretentious dickhead? Please. You’d run circles around him.”
“He’s taking Korean language lessons, apparently.”
“I bet his pronunciation is terrible.”
“Guaranteed.” I squeeze his hand, grateful for his immediate support. “It will mean partnership for me, though, if I get it.”
Aaron nods slowly, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “When would you leave?”
“Next quarter sometime,” I say softly. “And it’sifI get it.”
“You’ll get it,” he says with such certainty that I almost believe him. “They’d be idiots not to choose you.”
I study our intertwined fingers. “Can we not talk about this anymore tonight? I just want to enjoy being with you. Just like old times.”
Aaron brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “Old times involved lots of sex. But hey, your wish is my command, Counselor.” He pulls into traffic, and we ride in comfortable silence for a few blocks, the city lights painting streaks of color across the windshield.
At his apartment, we fall into step with the ease of old lovers, not new ones. I kick off my heels as he hangs up my coat. He pours wine for both of us while I let my hair tumble free from its tight updo, sighing as the tension releases from my scalp.
“Better?” he asks, handing me a glass of red.
“Much.”
Aaron sets his wine aside and moves behind me, his fingers working at the zipper of my dress.
My dress pools at my feet, leaving me in my black lingerie.
“I can’t wait to taste you.” His hands slide up my thighs as he looks at me with dark, hungry eyes. “I’ve been thinking about this all night.”
The heat in his gaze is a touch all its own, sparking nerves I never knew I had. My breath hitches, turning shallow and ragged. The wine glass trembles in my grip, ruby liquid flickering in the light. Aaron notices—he always does—and with slow and deliberate grace, he takes the glass from my unsteady hand. The brush of his fingers against mine is electric, a silent promise.
He sets the glass on the coffee table, the soft clink marking the moment. His hands come back to me, one at my waist and one at my back, guiding me to the sofa with gentle pressure. The leather cushions feel cool at first but quickly warm under my skin.
Aaron kneels in front of me, making my heart skip a beat. The carpet cushions his knees as he moves between my legs, his broad shoulders gently parting them. His hands slide along my calves, pressing gently, then move up to my thighs.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. He lowers his head, pressing his lips to my inner thigh in a kiss so tender it makes my chest ache. The warmth of his mouth blooms against my sensitive skin, followed by the gentle scrape of stubble that sends electric currents racing upward. His hands slide beneath me with confident purpose, cupping my ass and drawing me forward until I perch at the edge of the sofa, vulnerable and exposed in the most exhilarating way.
His fingers find the lace waistband of my panties, tracing the edge with a light touch. My stomach tightens in anticipation, a reaction I can’t control. He looks up at me, searching for connection, confirmation, and consent—and finds all three in my gaze.
He hooks his fingers into the lace, the pressure of his knuckles on my hipbones making me shiver. The panties slide down slowly, each inch exposing more of me to the cool air and his intense gaze. The lace brushes my skin as it moves down my thighs, past my knees, and along my calves.
When they’re finally free of my ankles, Aaron tosses them aside, the black lace disappearing into the shadows of his apartment. He leans forward, his breath warm against my skin. “This pussy is so pretty,” he moans, the raw honesty in his voice making me throb with anticipation. His thumbs gently part me, exposing me to his admiring gaze. “And already so wet for me.”
The first touch of his tongue is a shock—warm, wet, and just the right pressure, making me gasp like I’ve come up for air. My head falls back against the cushions as I give in to the feeling, my fingers finding their way into his hair. The soft strands twist around my fingers as I hold on to him and to this moment.
He explores me with dedicated attention, as if memorizing every fold, every texture, every subtle variation that makes me unique. My hips rise to meet him of their own accord, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of the exquisite pleasure he’s creating.
“Fuck, yes,” I moan, the words torn from somewhere primal within me.
He responds to my abandonment by intensifying his efforts, slipping two fingers inside me with careful precision. The dual sensation—his fingers curling forward to find that perfect spot while his tongue circles my clit, making me cry out, a sound that bounces around the quiet apartment. My thighs begin to tremble against his shoulders, muscles tightening involuntarily as he increases his pace.
The world shrinks to just this connection between us, everything else fading away—the dinner, Seoul, William—all of itgone under Aaron’s touch. My body tightens around his fingers, wanting more, wanting everything he can give.
“The way you are clenching around my fingers,” he whispers against me, “I would say you’re close…” He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire but bright with something that looks dangerously like adoration. “But I’m only getting started.”
