“Tired?”
“Yes.” No, but I just want to get to bed. With him.
He nods. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
I know. I’ve been watching every street, every turn, for the past half hour, wishing them to go faster.
The taxi finally pulls up, and I’m out the door as soon as it clicks open. Alex fetches our bags, not waiting for the cabbie, and walks into the building without a word to him.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Good night, ma’am.”
Alex hears; his shoulders tighten. But he doesn’t turn around and punch the man, so I take that as a win. I follow him in.
The elevator ride is swift, but there’s tension between us, tangible in the air. I don’t know what it is. Sexual? Angst? The pendingconversationwe need to have? Which one, if so—the one where he’s going to try and kill people, or the one where he’s furious at me for offering myself to Fournier?
I bite at my lip, and it’s not a relief when the doors open.
Alex strides down the hallway, unlocks his apartment and enters, dropping the suitcases inside.
I step in after him, uncertain.
He’s on me before the door closes, shoving me against it, using my body to force it closed. The impact at my back, mild pain. His mouth’s on mine in a bruising kiss, his hands pushing my coat from my shoulders. He kisses like he’s just crawled out of a desert, hungry and desperate. His tongue pushes in aggressively, seeking me, claiming me.
Alex’s hands find the top of my dress and he tugs sharply. The straps snap off, the zipper pulls into my back, then the seam rips. That’s fine; I don’t think I’d ever want to wear this one again.
He pulls down, and my breasts spill out. He bends, taking a nipple into his warm, wet mouth, tongue rubbing over the nub, and I gasp as I arch. His hand is on my other breast, clutching it, squeezing, finger and thumb finding that nipple and twisting. My gasp becomes a cry.
“On your knees,” he growls, pushing me down with one hand on my shoulder.
My legs buckle and I sink before him. It’s not theforce; it’s his words. The moment. The rapid and sudden escalation of sensuality. The sheerneedin his voice.
I’m wet; I have been for the whole damn cab ride. He knows; I know. I’m going to do what he tells me, even though he’s never fucked my mouth like this.
Strangely, I’m willing, despite him giving me no choice. My worry is about pleasing him. I’m not practiced in this art. I fear I’m going to embarrass myself.
The floor is hard beneath my knees. His hands fall to the buckle of his pants, right before my eyes. I take a breath, considering what I know about using my mouth. Not much.
His pants open and he pulls his cock out. It’s already hard, long, thick, and smooth, perfectly shaped. I know it of old, but not like this, not up close. Not since… whatever’s between us… changed.
He doesn’t wait for me to move, but grips the back of my head, pushes his cock against my lips, and thrusts, forcing his way in. It’s silky over my tongue, but he’s not gentle. He presses into the back of my throat, and I immediately have to struggle not to gag.
I struggle to open for him, both hands braced on his thighs. His fingers push into my hair, holding me as he fucks my mouth with sharp, strong strokes. And that’s what he’s doing: taking my mouth like he would any other hole. It’s controlling, it’s dominant, it’s awkward.
Yet it’ssogoddamn arousing.
I’m nothing more than his toy, on my knees beforehim. His cock invading my mouth, pushing into my throat, drawing tears to my eyes. I choke around him, body jerking, and he withdraws only enough to let me gasp in a breath, then drives in again.
It doesn’t get any easier. I can’t find a rhythm. My jaw aches, stretched by his girth. My throat’s already sore. I want to please him, I just don’t knowhow.
“You’re taking it so well,” he murmurs, surprising me. “Breathe through your nose. Lift your chin. Try to relax. Open your throat to me.”
It’s exactly what I need to hear. I look up at him in gratitude through teary eyes, and there’s compassion and tenderness in his face. Not what I expected at all. But he doesn’t slow, he’s not gentle. He’s taking me, because he wants to. Because he can.
I fight to relax, to breathe, and it does help. It’s easier and easier to open myself to him. His cock sinks deeper. He’s too large to go all the way in, and the base of him remains frustratingly out of reach. It’s almost a challenge to take more of him.
Lifting my chin, I swallow around him as he thrusts forward, and push into him. His cock sinks deeper, into my throat. It’s an odd sensation. I immediately gag, even though it’s not actually unpleasant.
