“Then I can’t leave here without having you in my mouth, Mr. Noire.”
He stands, peering down at me and scratching his jaw in indecision, either about the time commitment or some line he’s refusing to ignore. The wet spot on his pants indicates a clear direction, but his internal debate ensues.
Unwilling to part ways without having a chance to ingrain myself on him the way he did for me, I bite my lip and bat my lashes, not above playing into his dominant fantasies. “Surely, I’ve earned a taste, sir.”
His eye crinkles appear right along with his chuckle, and it tickles my throat with a fondness I need to be wary of.
“You coming so beautifully for me earned you just about anything you want. I wish I had all night.” He smooths my matted hair away from my face and cradles my chin. “Wait here for me.”
He disappears into his bedroom, and I stay put. Naked and on my knees.
Humiliation has my cheeks aflame.
Part of me frets that I’m being manipulated or going soft or that Axel is a weakness I can’t overcome. In the ten years I’ve been an assassin, I’ve faced every type of man in the underworld. None have defeated me. I’ve held their last breaths and their secrets and hoped their soul didn’t cart those sins into the next life, and then I carried on. But with eyes that sparkle like an evocative ocean, power that emanates from a penthouse family night, and perception that sees me instead of my shadow, I am disarmed.
Seconds later, he returns with an expression that is the last snow dissolving into green pastures. And a rectangular leather throw pillow.
He drops it on the floor, with its hefty, threaded seam facing up. “Straddle that for me, darling. Ride it while I fuck your throat.”
My mouth waters.
And just like that, I’m a slut, at his service.
AXEL
We don’t have much time before I need to leave, and my mind keeps trying to pull me away. To remind me that there are countless issues I need to attend to.
But nothing matters with Zara at my feet. Ardent, pliable, and more submissive than I anticipated. Every inch of her is stunning—so far past pretty. I can’t quite find a word that’s adequate.
She straddles the pillow without argument, and her pussy is so wet and swollen and responsive that the second her clit brushes over the seam, an unsteady breath puffs from her.
“Take me out,” I order. It’s hoarse and low, and I wonder if she can hear how close she has me to snapping.
I’m never this untethered. I’m fucking this all up.
She unfastens my belt, but before she lowers my zipper, I grip her wrist.
“I should have given you a safe word. I … we should’ve discussed limits and …” I latch on to the green gaze that has held so much realness tonight, and I catch a flicker of hurt. “Are you sure you want this?”
“I’m on my knees and salivating for you, so that should be your answer. I very much want to be hereforyou.” Her tongue darts out to wet her pouty lips, as if to emphasize her point. “Safe word or not, I don’t do things if I don’t want to.”
She glances out to the city as if her current situation is slamming into her. As if she fears that statement will be proven false soon enough.
I don’t address that because there isn’t time and there’s too much muddy reality to wade through. Sliding a knuckle beneath her chin, I lift her radiant face to me. “That was the perfect response. Having you here like this—willing, needy, confident—is everything. I’ve never craved anything as much as I want your mouth on me right now.”
Her whole demeaner brightens from my confession.
“If you need to stop, tap my thigh three times. Like a tap-out in a martial arts match.” I see the agreement in her eyes, but it’s not enough. “That’s your only way out, so use your words right now.”
Her chest heaves, and her hips roll over the leather pillow. “I’ll tap your thigh three times if I need to stop.”
“Good girl. But don’t grind that clit until I’m slamming into the back of your throat and I give you permission.” Without waiting for her verbal compliance, I issue my next instruction. “Keep going.”
She finishes with my zipper and rolls down my boxer briefs. My cock springs free—eager and angry for attention—curtained by my shirttails.
Without hesitation, she wraps her heavenly fingers around my shaft, pumping once before she arches a sassy brow at me with a sexy smirk that has my dick jerking in her small palm. “Pierced? That’s … unexpected.”
It was for me, too, but the story will have to come at another time.
