As heat blemishes my cheeks, I lock my eyes with Isaac’s. “Do I really need to be naked for every conversation we have?”
I imagine precum beading on the crest of his cock when a sultry smirk etches onto his mouth. “Yes, because you don’t give an inch unless I’m inside you.”
Wetness would dampen my panties if I weren’t in the process of tugging them and my trousers down my thighs. Everything is in the background of my mind, my needs forever outweighing my moral compass when it comes to this man. I can’t get enough of him. I’ll never get enough.
Excitement darts down my spine when the lowering of Isaac’s zipper is quickly chased by him pulling me toward him by a white-knuckled hold of my shirt, and even quicker than that, the crown of his cock is piercing through the folds of my aching sex.
He hasn’t entered me yet. He’s just letting me know he’s thick and heavy beneath me. To an outsider, his actions would appear as aggressive, but my submissive side relishes how unhinged he gets when he wants me. My inner vixen and I love being dominated by him.
“This is the only time you’re exposed, unguarded, and raw, Isabelle. Where you’re the most open and honest.”
Buttons being popped open boom over my pulse shrilling in my ears, then, not even thirty seconds later, my breasts are exposed from him tugging down the cups of my bra. Once he has one of my bouncing globes in his big, manly hand, he raises his eyes to me.
“Tell me why you were spying on me today.”
I lick my dry lips, my mouth parched from his arrowing toward the budded peak sitting high on my exposed breast. “I wasn’t spying,” I call out with a cry, loving the sting of his teeth sinking into my areola. “I was monitoring a target a few houses down when I spotted Roger.” His tongue circles my nipple, pleased enough by the honesty in my tone to soothe the burn his bite made. “He was reading a newspaper. We all know what that means.”
My sentences are broken up by the big breaths I suck in to stop my mind spiraling out of control. Isaac’s prowess has always been wondrous, but it’s even more profound when we’re in small confines, such as a car in the middle of peak-hour traffic.
“What did you hear?”
I try to act nonchalant. “Hear?”
My lie is awarded in a way that shouldn’t be brilliant but is. He bites me again, but not on my nipple this time. On the lips he warned he’d bite from the day we met. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it sends a clear warning to my lusty head that he isn’t playing.
“Lie to me again, and I’ll have Roger take us to Hyde instead of our home.”
Both excitement and hesitation cross my features. I hate being teased, but when Isaac does it, I’ll suffer the injustice as the reward always far exceeds the annoyance.
“You leased your fuck pad. It’s no longer empty.”
Eagerness overtakes my annoyance when he growls. “I own the building. I’m sure I can find a vacant apartment to utilize for a few hours.”
He’s not impatient to take our gathering to a private location. He wants to sustain my orgasms like he did the day he heard Alex’s groggy voice sound down the line. This isn’t just about what I witnessed earlier this evening. He knows Brandon is back in town.
“How do you know—”
When he enters me without warning, my nails bend harshly from jabbing them into his thick shoulders. His entrance was unexpected but highly craved.
His hot breath fans my neck with air when he says, “Let’s finish one conversation before starting another.”
I don’t know how he’s expecting me to talk. Almost every glorious inch of him is inside of me. Talking is above my caliber right now. Hell, even breathing is.
“Isabelle…”
His growl makes things ten times worse. Sweat rolls down my back from the stifling energy zapping between us, and all my muscles tighten.
“I didn’t hear much. Something about your file being forwarded to Dr. Jae, and that you didn’t want to put me through something.”
“And?” He fucks me as if he isn’t interrogating me at the same time. The pumps of his big cock are relentless, and they soon have me seeing stars. “What else?”
My voice is as high as my wish to come. “That’s all I heard. The rest of your conversation was garbled by your car door.”
After weaving his fingers through my soaked-at-the-roots locks, he demands my eyes to his. When he gets them, he slows the grinds of his hips. He’s still fucking me, just not at the uncontrolled, manic pace he was doing mere seconds ago. It’s a beautiful mix of speed and talent that has the coil in my womb twisting quickly.
The cogs slot into place as he strives to work out how to ask his next question without starting a fight. We’ve fought enough and had way too many outside influences come between us, so we agreed to no more fighting. If we want to know something, we ask. We don’t spy, snoop, or keep secrets.
That knowledge frees me to ask, “Why were you visiting an oncologist today? Are you sick again? Is that why you’ve been acting funny lately?”
