When he stands up, his dick is pressing through his jeans. I don’t think; I just do. I do what my instincts tell me to do. Act without second-guessing myself.
I reach for his jeans and undo them. He stands perfectly still, looking down at me with curiosity. I push him back against the glass window and fall to my knees. There’s something freeing about pushing a man with as much money and power as he has against the window.
With one big tug, I bring his jeans and boxer briefs down to his ankles. I nearly lose my balance. His dick is even bigger in person.
I’m slightly afraid that it’s too thick to fit into my mouth.
He cocks a knowing grin. “It’ll fit, Mel.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this, but I feel completely safe with him.
My hand reaches up and wraps around his base. My fingers can’t wrap around all of him, but I do the best that I can. He flinches the second I touch him. It’s odd to see him so affected by me.
I feel powerful.
Then I open my mouth and circle his tip with my tongue. He growls a guttural sound deep from his chest, then runs his hands through my hair and grabs a fistful of it.
He doesn’t pull on it or force me, but he squeezes like he needs something to anchor him.
I move the tip around the outline of my lips, letting the bead of cum that drips out to cover me like ChapStick.
“Fucking hell, Mel.”
I smile, then wrap my lips around him and glide him all the way to the back of my throat. His head falls back against the window for a second, like it’s too much to watch.
But I don’t stop. I suck as much of him as I can while my hand remains at the base, stroking the part that doesn’t fit. I try to get him so far back that I gag several times, which only seems to spur him on more, making him cuss and moan.
“I’m gonna come,” he says through heavy breaths.
I meet his eyes and continue to suck so he knows where I want it. When he sees my approval, he explodes inside of my mouth. I take it all down greedily like a starved animal, swallowing every last drop, and then I back off him and wipe my mouthand chin.
I slowly lift my gaze up to him, still catching my breath.
He isn’t smirking. Isn’t teasing.
He’s just … staring at me. Like he’s trying to memorize the sight of me kneeling here, in his penthouse, hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes dark with a flicker of wonder.
His jaw is tight. His pupils blown. One hand curls at his side, like he doesn’t trust himself to touch me again just yet.
And for a moment, I feel powerful in a way I haven’t in years.
Not because of what we did, but because of the way he’s looking at me now. Like I’ve shaken control loose inside him. Like he’s realizing he can’t go back to who he was before he touched me.
He exhales slowly, a rough sound that makes my chest ache.
“Come here,” he says quietly, not as a command this time, but an invitation.
I step into him, and he presses his forehead to mine, lingering there like he needs the contact to ground himself. Like he’s holding on to this moment instead of rushing past it.
And as his hands settle at my waist, they are warm and steady. I realize I’m not as broken as I thought.
This isn’t simply about desire.
It’s about being touched again. Being wanted again. Letting myself feel alive in a way I was terrified I’d lost forever.
I close my eyes and let myself stay right here, in the space between who I was … and who I might be becoming.
Chapter Twenty-Four
