And then, her plush, silky lips are wrapped around me.
She sucks me into her mouth, and a deep groan escapes my lungs from how fucking good it feels. It’s heaven, being inside her mouth, and the only way I can distract myself from coming right on the spot is to taste and lick and lap at her clit.
But when she starts to suck me deeper and moan at the same time, I can feel my climax building in my fucking spine.
She’s drenched, so gloriously wet, and her hips start to thrust against my face in erratic movements as my mouth starts to take her to the edge.
I don’t know how she does it. I don’t know how it happens. But Hannah follows through on her demand, and we come together at the same time.
It’s better than anything I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. But it’s not because coming inside her mouth feels amazing or feeling her come on my tongue is the epitome of heaven.
It’s because it’s her. It’s because it’sHannah.
6:00 a.m.
Hannah is sound asleep, her naked body curled up against mine. It only takes one glance at the clock beside her bed to make me realize I’ve been sitting here, in her bed, wide awake for the past few hours just looking at her.
The pastel hints of sunrise are starting to filter in through her window, and if someone could take a photograph right now of how the soft light reflects off Hannah’s gorgeous hair and skin, it’d be memorialized for eternity.
She’s beauty, inside and out. She’severything.
Because you’re in love with her.
The thought should pull me up short, but it doesn’t. I already know. Trust me, I’m fully fucking aware.
I’ve crossed more than a few lines when it comes to Hannah. Hell, as of tonight, I’ve barreled through the giant wall I should’ve never crossed like the damn Kool-Aid Man.
As carefully as I can, without waking her up, I slide out of the bed and get my phone out of the pocket of my jeans. I send a single text to the only person who knows just as much about my clusterfuck of a situation as I do.
Me:You’re right. I’m in too deep.
29
Hannah
Monday, May 20
8:30 a.m.
“Morning, Margo,” I greet my boss as I step onto the floor, passing by the Emerald and Sapphire booths. Margo stands beside Lana, a ciggy hanging out of her mouth, and she blows a billowing cloud of nicotine-tinged air toward Lana’s face as she chats with her.
“Mornin’, honey,” Margo says, sounding throaty in the way only a woman who smokes two-plus packs a day can.
Lana flashes a playful eyeroll behind Margo’s back, and I counter that with an amused grin, but when my ears latch on to the wordscastration play, I’m certain there’s nothing I’ll gain from hearing more, unless I want to add to my ongoing CMA-trauma list.
I pass by the other cubicles until I reach my red-lit Ruby one, and I almost want to laugh at myself for how early I’ve managed to get here.
Once Lovie got to the house this morning, I was already dressed and ready to head in to work. For the past several weeks, waking up in the morning to the reality of being stuck in my sex cubicle, chatting horny men into orgasm, hasn’t exactly felt like rainbows and sunshine.
But today feels different.
Because of Dom.
Okay. Yeah. I’ll admit my obvious truth. After the weekend with Dom, after what happened late Saturday night, everything feels different. He left pretty early on Sunday morning, and I was half asleep when he said goodbye, but my lips still remember the gentle kiss he gave me before he walked out of my bedroom, and my skin still remembers the way his touch lingered on my face.
I still don’t know what came over me or how I mustered the confidence to guide him into my bedroom in the wee hours of the night. But I don’t regret it.
All day yesterday, I was tempted to text him and call him, and this morning I had to stop myself from reaching out to him on my way to work. But I don’t want to come across as clingy. Clearly, I’m going to see him today. He knows my schedule. And, like clockwork, he and Shane show up to listen to my calls.
