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I deepen the kiss, while his hands explore underneath my shirt. Goosebumps pebble along my skin, and I push my hands through his thick, wavy hair, just so I can hold on while he stares at me with an intensity that I’m not used to.
It’s grief, revenge, spite, and lust, all rolled up into that stare.
“You look good wearing my shirt,” he rasps against my skin, while he kisses, sucks, and nips his way along my neck. “But I like it better when it’s on the floor.” His voice is hoarse, like the crackling of the fire, and I raise my arms so he can pull it over my head. The warmth from the fire feels nice against my bare skin, but it does nothing to stop my nipples from turning into tight points, begging for his mouth and his teeth.
He leans back to look at me, taking in my breasts and my body as if I am something to be worshiped. Running his thumbs over my nipples, he watches as the sensitive skin around them reacts to his touch, turning into an intricate pattern, like a maze. He pulls a nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling, sucking, as he palms each breast, and I squirm on his lap, grinding into him harder, feeling his growing erection against my dampening panties. I close my eyes and tip my head back, holding onto his neck.
He releases my nipple, and I open my eyes to gaze down at him. He looks as if he’s drunk, but not from the whiskey. “You’re like a drug, Evangeline.” he rasps. “I want to bury myself in you until there is nothing left of me.”
He moves his hand to the base of my neck, his palm warm and grounding, pulls me to him, taking my lips in a deep, searching kiss.
I break away from the kiss, pulling on his lower lip as he hisses, and I place my hands on his chest to keep him from pulling me back in. He protests by reaching for me, his eyes searching mine, and I slide off his lap to kneel in front of him.
“You can’t look at me like that,” he croaks, his voice raw as if he can barely speak.
“Look at you like what?” I smile innocently and sit back on my heels, toes tucked under my backside, as I place my hands on either side of his thighs.
“Like I’m someone to be saved.”
I lift his shirt, and he pulls it over his head, throwing it to the side while I unbuckle his belt. The sound of the metal clanking sends a pulse bright and eager at the edges of my womb. I can feel his hardness underneath the expensive material of his pants, and I run my hand up its length, eliciting a groan from Darren who sits patiently watching me.
He likes to watch me.
“Who said anything about saving?” Slowly, I unzip his pants and feel his hands tighten in my hair – desperate, but trying to stay in control. His stomach muscles flutter when I pull out his cock, thick and dark – pre-cum already beading at the top. I look up at him through my lashes and notice his hooded eyes, the hazel now buried deep.
Using my hand, I move up and down his shaft, causing more pre-cum to spill over the top, and I lick my lips, eager to have him in my mouth.
“Jesus Christ, Evangeline,” he breathes, a strangled mess. “You’re going to make me come without even taking me in your mouth.”
Smiling up at him, I use my tongue to lick the tip of his cock, making sure to dig into the slit, causing his thick shaft to jump in response. I take him in my mouth, slowly moving up and down, until I feel Darren’s hand in my hair.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, his hand tightening in my hair, pushing and pulling, making me even more wet. I waste no time, sucking hard, taking him deep, and digging my fingers into his thigh.
His pelvis thrusts upwards as if he can’t stop himself from fucking my mouth, hitting the back of my throat, and losing himself to me completely.
“Jesus,” he pants as he starts to unravel. I want it – I want him to give it to me – but he pulls out before he comes, and I sit back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Catching his breath, he stares down at me with hooded eyes and grabs my arms, pulling me up and placing me easily onto the piano, the keys making a discordant sound as my feet slide across them.
“You’re too good at that,” he says while his fingers grip my waist.
“At least you’re getting your money’s worth,” I remind him.
He smiles, gripping my panties on either side, causing me to lift my hips so he can pull them off.
“Open your thighs for me, Queenie,” he says, and I do. I didn’t like the use of the nickname before, but tonight, while he’s sitting in front of me at eye level with my pussy, I shiver in response. The cool air hits my bare, wet cunt, and I shiver again. Running a finger up my center, he hums as if he’s pleased with how wet I am, and I squirm for more.
“Did sucking my cock make you wet?” he asks in a deep, seductive voice.
“Yes,” I answer honestly while I spread my legs further apart to give him more access. He parts my lips with his thumbs and licks up the center, making me squirm for more.
“Do you know how fucking sweet you taste?”
The sight of his dark head between my thighs threatens to unravel me, a tremor starting in my stomach, and the more he sucks and licks, the more my thighs shake. It doesn’t take much to push me towards the edge, because I was already wet and throbbing with his cock in my mouth.
My moans seem to echo, like the piano, musical and haunting.
“Are you going to come for me?” he asks, kissing the bare spot above my clit while he pushes a finger inside me, hooking just right to press against my wall. My palms push against the smooth surface of the piano, and I can only moan my response while he pumps his fingers inside me, sucking and nipping his way over my thighs and my cunt. My stomach shakes every time his tongue runs over my clit, keeping my orgasm at bay.
“Darren,” I whimper for more.
