Page 58 of A Song for You

Others have come before her, but no one could ever come after.

Tonight is all about her.

She makes me want to be better. And so much worse. I want to give her everything. If that means a public act in a seedy club, then so be it. If it means giving her my blessing to experiment with other women, I’ll make it work. Witnessing her pleasure is enough for me. I still have a rock-hard erection, and while I wouldn’t turn her down if she wanted to address that, I’m so focused on tasting her, on watching her come again, I can’t think straight.

My pleasure is derived from hers alone.

Cat moves around the kitchen, her heels echoing against the hardwood floors, while I settle on the couch, running my thumb against my lip, watching her.

“Here, you look like you could use this,” Cat says as she hands me a glass of amber liquid.

“Whiskey?” I ask, clear amusement in my tone.

She nods, settling next to me, watching me, her eyes bright in anticipation. I bring the lowball to my lips and take a sip, grimacing when I recognize the James brand immediately and cough obnoxiously.

“Jerk,” she mumbles through a laugh, pushing against my arm.

“It’s terrible,” I say, smirking back at her.

Cat rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her water. She sets her glass on the side table and unzips one of her knee-high boots, then the other.

“You didn’t want to have a glass of terrible whiskey like me?” I ask in mock horror.

She laughs, tossing a boot to the floor. “I don’t drink whiskey.”

With my free hand on my heart, I fall back against the couch. “You wound me, Catherine Bouvier. Wound me!”

The smile that lights up her face is worth millions.

“You’d change your mind if you tried my whiskey,” I tell her, hauling myself up and setting the whiskey on the table. I don’t need the buzz, anyway. Not when I have her by my side.

Cat moves so she’s sitting on her knees and leans back against the couch. “I prefer vodka.”

“And how do you like it, Kitten?”

She bites on her plump red lower lip. “Extra dirty,” she purrs.

At the innuendo in her voice, I haul her onto my lap so she’s straddling me, her skater skirt riding up and the fucking suspenders over her white T-shirt straining against her tits. Fuck, she’s perfect.

“After tonight’s little performance, I don’t doubt that,” I tease as my hands find her bare ass beneath her skirt. I groan at the contact. She’s smooth and soft and all fucking mine.

Without hesitating, she cants forward and presses her red lips against mine. Automatically, I open for her, ravenous and dying to taste her again. I knead her ass with both hands, rubbing her against me until she moans into my mouth. I want to eat up all her little sounds. Hear her scream my name. Make her come again and again. I want everything with her.

Cat arches back, her hands on her thighs as she watches me, a coy smile playing on her lips. If only I could read her mind. Instead, I settle for rubbing my thumb against my bottom lip and holding her stare, waiting to see what she’ll do.

“Let’s go swimming!” she cheers.

I cock a brow in surprise. “Swimming?”

She bounces in excitement, the friction and the way her tits shake making me go impossibly harder. “Please?”

And damn if I can say no to her when she looks this happy. It’s official. I’ll do anything to keep that smile on her face.

“Okay, Kitten, let’s go swimming.”

Cat lifts herself off me and offers me her hand. When she pulls me to my feet, I immediately find the smooth skin of her waist and let her lead me to the roof. “Don’t we need towels?”

I take it bathing suits aren’t an issue.