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He shoved his chair closer until he was settled comfortably between my legs. I could feel his breath against my sex as he looked up at me through his lashes. It was an intoxicating thing to behold.

His mouth twisted up into some self-deprecating version of a smile. “I didn’t come here for dinner, Noura,” his voice rumbled deeply from his chest into my core. “I came for dessert.”

His words barely registered as sound. But they were felt. Oh. God. Were they felt.

“Open your shirt,” he ordered, nuzzling into me.

With trembling hands I unzipped my hoodie. All I wore beneath it was a bra.

“Take your breasts out,” he told me.

I obeyed.

“Cup them,” he rasped into my skin. “Pinch your nipples. Rub them. I want you to fondle yourself while I,” he licked, “tend to you. Got it?”

I rubbed my aching, sensitive breasts, rolling my nipples against my palms.

His eyes followed the movements for a long beat, two, three. He looked enraptured. It was very much mutual.

“Good,” he murmured and started to feast.

He ate me out like he was indeed deprived. I responded likewise.

He got me off like it was his job instead of vice versa.

Afterward he rose, setting me on my feet directly in front of him.

I had to hold onto the back of his neck to keep from falling down. Or lying down.

He tilted my face up to him with a light touch. The barely there contact somehow sent a shockwave of awareness through me. “Look at me, Noura.”

The sound of my name on his lips made my knees try to go full liquid.

I looked at him.

“Undress and wait for me in our bed,” he ordered brusquely. “Don’t touch yourself.”

I couldn’t even hide the shiver that visibly moved my body at those words.

I obeyed.

I’d forgotten I was bare from the hips down until I started to undress. I forgot everything when he put his hands on me. His mouth. Oh God, that mouth.

I lay naked on the bed, pulling the sheet up to my chin. I was shivering, head to toe, but not from cold.

He made me wait a solid half hour before he joined me, a bourbon in hand. He set it on the nightstand.

He pulled the covers to my ribs, smoothing it flat along my skin.

His eyes were dispassionate on his hands as he played with my breasts. He was arousing me like it was his weapon.

It was like a different man had entered from the one I’d just shared dinner with. And dessert.

Abruptly he rose, shrugging impatiently out of his pullover and the shirt underneath. He dragged his jeans and boxers briefs off like they’d personally offended him.

He was fully aroused, his hard dick bobbing with his every move as he dragged my sheet off.

“Get up,” he said, the words cutting out of him angrily.