“I don’t know. Anything you want to do. Just…anything,” she pleads.
I hook a finger on the elastic of her thong and pull it down to her knees. “Step out.”
She manages to obey despite quivering legs.
“Good girl.” I kiss the slope of her breast.
She reaches for my belt, but I take half a step back. She raises her eyes, a question burning in them.
“We aren’t doing that.”
“Wh-what? You can’t stop after getting me all worked up,” she protests, as though I just told her I’m taking away her favorite toy.
I laugh softly at her unvarnished greed. “Who said anything about stopping?”
I slowly drop to one knee, leaving a trail of wet kisses from her breastbone all the way to her belly. Her stomach muscles jerk, her breathing shallowing. She leans forward, bracing her hands on my shoulders. Her breathing hitches, her entire body trembling, caught somewhere between anticipation and hesitation.
I run my hand down her soft inner thigh. “Relax, Freckles. You’re beautiful.” I press a kiss to her pubic bone and inhale. “And you smell amazing.”
Her fingers dig deeper into my frame. I drop my other knee and lift my eyes so I can look into hers as she gazes down. They’re dark with desire but also flash with a hint of apprehension. Her throat works as she swallows and runs her tongue over her lower lip.
“It’s going to be good, I promise.” I close my mouth over her, swiping my tongue along her folds like she’s the most delicious treat in the world.
Her fingers tunnel into my hair. They tense, making my scalp sting a little. I love the slight pain, reveling in her every response. She trembles like a flower caught in a storm. She’s so wet and sweet, and I lap her up. I can’t get enough. She’s driving me crazy.
She begins to pant, her arms and legs taut and shaking, and then something snaps inside her. She lets out a low groan and moves her pelvis against my face, shamelessly chasing her orgasm. Triumph surges in my chest like a tsunami at her loss of control. She chants my name as though it’s the only thing keeping her anchored.
My tongue moves over her swollen, quivering clit. She rocks faster and faster, and I grip her hips hard to give her stability. Then her entire body tenses and she screams. Finally, when her breathing settles, she slides down the wall into a well-satisfied puddle at my feet.
“What was that about?” she says, still breathless.
I grin. “Welcome home,” I say.
Her eyes drop to my still hard, throbbing length. She bites her lip, her lashes fluttering, then reaches down—
The security alarm beeps.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Max
“It’s a good thing I dropped by.”
Seated at a massive dining table big enough for twenty, I smile, my heart still racing. I barely had enough time to put the dress back on and smooth my hair. Sadly, there wasn’t any time for the thong, so that poor thing is in hiding under one of the numerous vases. I’m still slick between my legs. An aching emptiness lingers as my body remembers what it’s like to have Rhys pound into me.
Stop thinking about that.
The man who stopped by introduces himself as Frederich. Wiry, with a high forehead and slicked-back silver hair, he looks like a Victorian literature professor, especially in a starched white jacket and matching slacks.
“What are you doing here?” Rhys’s voice is gravelly. His lips are dry, but his jacket sleeve glistens with the juices from earlier.
I place a hand over my eyes, but that only serves to bring back the vivid image of him on his knees in his bespoke three-piece suit, devouring me. His glasses are back on his face, making him look calm and collected.
“Bringing your dinner?” Frederich responds with a cocked eyebrow, seemingly unperturbed by Rhys’s terse tone. He lays out a platter of calamari fritti and lasagna from two sizable thermal containers.
Rhys rubs the spot between his eyebrows. “Of course.” A pause. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy. By the way, Ellie will be in charge of housekeeping from tomorrow, to replace Renata, who’s on maternity leave.”
