Perilous, striking, steadfast, and insatiable.
And fucking mine.
“We’re gonna come together, Zara.” When her eyes flash with a plea, I about lose my damn mind. I cradle her chin, keeping her head at the angle I want it. “Hold my cum in your mouth. I expect to see it on your tongue before you swallow. You can let go now.”
I allot her about thirty seconds to accelerate to her peak as I thrust into her phenomenal mouth, her throat quaking around my tip defensively, which only seems to rile her up more. And once she’s tipping, writhing, grinding, and sucking with everything she is, my climax strikes me like a clap of thunder, jarring and violent. All my muscles contract, seizing with a pervasive spasm as I plunge into her and spill onto her tongue.
My heart is thrashing against my sternum, my lungs empty, and her feline eyes are glued to me with an awe that penetrates as deeply as the lingering tingle in my balls.
I drag my knuckles down her cheek, allowing myself a second to soak her in. “So goddamn beautiful.”
Reluctantly, I pull out and cup her chin. “Show me.”
She sticks out her tongue to reveal a white river of my cum, and I swear to fuck, it takes everything in me not to let my knees buckle.
I curl my fingers around her neck, sweeping my thumb over the point of her frenzied pulse and readying myself for the eroticbob of her inhaling my release. “Such a good girl for me. Swallow every drop. Let me feel it.”
She does, her throat rolling against my palm, and it’s clear this simple act is as mind-altering for her as it is for me.
After tucking myself away, I crouch before her, tug on the pillow so she shimmies off it, and regard how her juices are glazing it. “You made a mess, darling.”
Her attention darts to the glistening leather before her lips part, her translucent thirst layered with raw huskiness from my cock branding her vocal cords. “I really did.”
If we had more time to play and for proper aftercare, I’d test her limits harder, but due to our constraints, I settle on an implied order to see how she receives it. “A polite houseguest would clean up after herself. Do you have good manners, Zara?”
“The best,” she whispers. Then, without further prompting, she ducks her head and drags her tongue along the seam where her pussy just was, licking up every pearly droplet she left behind with those haunting emeralds yoked to mine.
“Christ,” I hiss, feeling jealous of her mouth and crazed that I can’t keep her in this room for the rest of our days.
I’m so fucked. How the hell do I get us through this when every solution includes torment?
She must’ve seen that pass over me because she’s frantically searching my face.
“You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Scooping her up, I cradle her against my chest and breathe her in for a beat.
Then I cart her to my bathroom to wipe her off with a warm cloth and spread some soothing salve on her sore ass as she eyes me skeptically in the mirror. With her in my arms again, I stride back out to the living area, grab her a bottle of water from the fridge, and settle into the chair with her on my lap.
“Drink this.” I uncap the bottle and hand it to her. “All of it.”
Her lungs inflate, and it makes my chest ache. She’s not used to being taken care of. I want to keep her here and dote on her until she’s so spoiled that she never settles for anything less. But things will only be worse for us if I don’t make my expected appearance.
“This isn’t how I would’ve done this if we’d planned … I don’t want to leave you. I’d tuck you into my bed until I got back, but that’s—”
“No.” She shakes her head, swallowing a sip of water. “It’s fine. I need to go back to my suite.”
It’s for the best, so I let it go. But I hold her, and she nuzzles her face against my neck, all naked and spent and smelling like vanilla, cherries, wine, and sex. She keeps drinking while I scratch up and down her arm and string my fingers through her hair and will myself to do what I need to do.
There’s no music playing. It’s silent, save for our calming breaths and the sweet sound of her swallowing. But she reminds me of a candlelit orchestra, where the notes and whimsy and rumbling bass of synergy seep into the crevices that light can’t reach. Astonishing art, gleaned in the dark. I hope she maintains that because I’ve made things exponentially worse for her tonight. And there are too many constraints on me to sufficiently detail the darkness that lies in front of us.
She finishes her water, pecks my cheek, and climbs off my lap to retrieve her clothes. I switch my suit out with a fresh one from my closet while she’s getting dressed, and by the time I emerge back in the sitting room, with my cuff links in hand and my suit jacket draped over my arm, she’s buckling her high heel.
“Why tonight? Why here, if you don’t …” She’s rarely bashful, so I relish the sight of her satiated and nervous.
“Because of you,” I repeat her words from earlier. “Because I wanted this.”
A soft smile blooms on her cheeks, along with the sweetest blush as she parrots the response I gave. “Good answer.”
It’s not a good answer. This was selfish, and as much as I adore that unusual innocence mantling her, I have to let her go.
