She pulled her lips away and looked at me, her nails slowly releasing my flesh. Her blue eyes showed everything that I’d just felt, that the heat burned her insides too. Her mouth moved farther away as she took a knee in front of me.
Another breath of air was sucked into my lungs automatically. My hands tightened into fists. My dick throbbed in my sweats because he wanted to feel the lips I’d just kissed.
She got to both knees on the rug then hooked her fingers to the insides of my bottoms and slowly dragged them down, letting my cock come free.
My face might be stoic, but my dick gave me away.
Thick. Hard. Long. Drooling at the tip.
She dragged my bottoms to my ankles then gripped the outsides of my thighs as she brought her mouth to my head. Her slightly parted lips pressed a kiss to the tip, a little tongue swiping over the drool.
I sucked in another breath because…fuck.
If I could have any woman in the world on her knees, it would be her.
Always.
Her mouth moved to my base, and she stuck her tongue against the bulging vein that rivaled the ones in my arms and neck, and slowly, she dragged it up, closer to the tip, taking her time.
I stopped breathing.
She made it back to my tip and gave it another swipe of her tongue. With her eyes on mine, she whispered, “Je t’aime…” Her mouth opened wide, her tongue flattened, and she slowly pushed her throat over my dick, taking her time, eyes on me.
I shut my eyes and let out an unstoppable moan. My dick slid across that wet tongue and deeper into her throat, saliva immediately spilling from the corners of her mouth and dripping to the rug below. My hand slipped into her hair, and I started to move with her, eyes on her, her eyes on me.
Nine
The Most Beautiful Woman
Melanie
When I went downstairs, his office doors were open.
I stepped inside and saw him sitting behind the large desk, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in French. “Magnus a essayé de lui parler?” He listened to the voice on the other line before he said, “Bien,” and hung up.
My French was a little better, so I translated that to, Magnus talk to her? It took me a few seconds to figure out the subject of their conversations. Her was definitely Raven, and Magnus was clearly staying away from her.
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to save her.
When Fender realized I’d joined him, he stared at me from his seat behind his desk, his gaze always hostile.
Things were getting better, but at a snail’s pace.
I held up my book then moved to the couch, hoping he would allow me to sit there quietly and read.
His eyes followed me, but he never issued a protest.
I sat down in my old spot near the fire and flipped through the pages until I found my spot.
He walked over a moment later. His large body lowered to the couch across from me, his stomach chiseled even in a seated position. Winter, spring, or summer, he was dressed exactly the same, choosing to wear as little clothing as possible.
I looked up, expecting him to say something.
“I’m leaving in a few minutes.” He leaned back into the couch with his fingers interlocked behind his head. Knees apart. His chiseled thighs stretching the cotton of his sweats. His enormous size dwarfing the couch that supported him. He was like a Clydesdale.
“Oh…” My hands moved to shut my book.
“Wait.” He leaned forward and ripped off a pink rose petal from a flower in the vase on the coffee table then extended his outstretched hand to me.
I hesitated before I gave him the book.
He inserted the rose petal between the pages, the pink color sticking out at the top, then closed it. He left it on the table then leaned back into the couch once again, one arm resting over the top of the couch, the other on his thigh.
“Thanks.”
His shoulders were relaxed, but his gaze was sharp like the tip of a drill. He constantly dug into my surface, burrowing deep down below.
“Where are you going?”
His expression didn’t change.
“Sorry…just trying to make conversation.”
Dark. Observant. Powerful. He looked at me exactly the way he used to. We could sit together in silence for hours and not speak a word, and he seemed perfectly content with that. As long as his eyes were on my face, that was all he needed.
My eyes dropped down from his face to his body, over the two slabs of concrete forming his chest, the bricks of his abs, the flesh that had remained untouched despite his violent affairs. Even if I’d never seen him before, he would be exactly what I described as a perfect man. If we’d met in some other way, the second I looked at him, I would never look away. He stared at me like I was the work of art—but he was.
If he had somewhere to be, he was clearly in no rush. Unblinking. Potent. Deep. That stare was endless.
I left the couch and came around the coffee table toward him.
His eyes followed.
I stopped in front of him and reached for the zipper at the back of my dress. Slowly, I pulled it down, letting the delicate fabric release its hug from my body, and felt it slide down around my heels on the floor.
His eyes dropped to my free tits. He never seemed to think they were anything less than perfect.
My thumbs hooked into my panties and pushed them over my ass and down my thighs until I was in nothing but pumps.
He inhaled a slow breath, his eyes darkening even more.
I lowered myself to my knees in front of him and gripped his bottoms with both hands.
With his eyes on me, he lifted his hips and allowed me to pull down the sweatpants, reveal his cock that was ready to go. It lay against his stomach, the thick veins matching the ones in his neck.
I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his balls, which were groomed at all times like he could get head at the drop of a hat.
After a few seconds, he released the breath he held.
My tongue dragged up his length to his tip then I positioned him upward, giving his head wet kisses, just the way I kissed his mouth. Slow. Wet. Deep.
He watched me, his eyes heavy and lidded with pleasure.
I released his heavy dick and watched it plop back against his stomach like a heavy rod before I crawled up in his lap and got on top of him, my thighs over his, my hands planting against his chest for balance.
He’d only taken me with my face down lately, but he didn’t try to stop me. His arms remained restrained in his refusal to touch me. He wanted me, but he only wanted to take, not give.
I grabbed his base and slowly slid down, getting his thickness past my entrance in a gentle glide. When I had a good hold, I slowly sank farther and farther, getting every inch of that thickness inside of me.
He closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath accompanied by a moan, and then his hands were on me. They gripped my ass, his large fingertips kneading my cheeks. When he looked at me again, he was there with me.
In this moment.
Together.
My hand cupped his face, and I started to ride him slowly, rolling my hips just the way he liked, pressing my face close to his. “Tu m’as manqué.” I missed you. “Tu es le seul homme pour moi.” You’re the only man for me. “Je t’aime…”
Things got better.
Change was slow with Fender, but it did happen. It was like the blossoming of a rose. It started with a green bud that blended with the vine, but slowly, it finally started to open. Then it opened wider and wider until it was in full bloom.