My breath catches. The moment feels like a held note waiting to break.
I close the gap.
His lips open immediately, and I taste him, savoring him. The feel of his tongue against mine, battling for space. I move until I straddle him, my hips rolling into him. Heat floods my chest. The closeness feels overwhelming, intoxicating.
My cock rubs against his hard length enclosed in his jeans, making my pulse race. The need to feel him is sharp, consuming, impossible to ignore. I pull down his zipper, my hand finding his cock, hot and heavy, already leaking pre-cum.
I pull him free and hold his gaze as I stick my tongue out, licking a long stripe of spit from my palm to my fingertips.
“You fucking tease,” he moans as he watches my tongue wet my hand.
I give him a small smile, keeping my eyes on his as I wrap my fingers around his dick and give him a long, slow stroke. His head drops to the back of the couch, and I feel him start to move beneath me.
I can’t get enough of this man. I want all of him.
CJ’s breath catches, and he grunts. The sound sends a rush through me, my whole body responding before my mind can catch up. I run my thumb over the tip of his cock, flicking my wrist to rub the sensitive spot just below his tip. I feel his reaction under my hand, feeling him let go.
“Baby Boy…” he breathes, “I need to touch you.”
His words send a rush through me. I lift my hips, and his hands pull my zipper down, pulling me free. I watch as he spits on the tip of my dick. His hand is unsteady as he gives me a long tug.
My head drops back as I let out a moan of pleasure.
“More,” I whisper, my hips moving, my dick punching harder and faster into his hand.
He pushes my hand out of the way and grabs both of our cocks together. With pre-cum and spit acting as lube, he strokes us in tandem. The friction is perfect, the grip sending me straight to heaven, and I moan.
This is absolute. A feeling of pure, undeniable need runs through me.
I reach down and kiss him deep. The taste of him feels like something I’ve been starving for. I nip along his jaw, down his neck, then lick my way back to his lips. Our breaths mingle, our hips thrusting, dicks moving against each other in perfect rhythm.
I drop my head back and moan his name. I realize then, with my dick pressed against his and his hand holding me firm, that I want him. I need him.
The truth hits hard: heavy, certain. It scares me how much I mean it.
He feels perfect in my arms. The thought settles deep inside me as I look at him, impossibly perfect, his name leaving my lips like a prayer I was already devoted to.
I watch as CJ cries out, and I follow him right over the edge, moaning his name into the quiet room.
* * *
The morning starts normally. Wake up, flirt, walk to work, grab coffee. Normal.
I know I’m starting to feel safe because I watch my surroundings less. I don’t scan every tall, dark-haired man for Adrian anymore. I just exist in the moment, in CJ. My chest loosens. For the first time in years, safety feels real.
But safety doesn’t stay real. Not for long. It bursts like a balloon, and the bubble I didn’t even realize I was holding collapses around me.
It starts that morning. I hear CJ on the phone as I watch the receptionist walk toward me.
“Morning, Eli.”
“Hey, Jackie.” I smile, glancing at the courier parcel in her hand. “That for me?”
“Sure is. Special delivery. I was told to hand-deliver it straight to you.”
A cold ripple moves through me. My fingers tighten around the parcel before I even open it.
I take it, frowning slightly. “To me? That’s weird.”
