“Christ, feral Cece,” he chuckles when my mouth drags along his neck. “Let me open the door first, baby.”
I barely hear the distinct click of the digital lock. Or the alarm system engaging again. My brain keeps itself hooked on those two words.
Feral Cece.
I believe I’ve become a bit feral for him lately. Especially when he keeps finding new reasons to kiss me silly.
I make him a cup of coffee with his favorite beans? Kiss.
I run a preliminary financial audit for election preparation? Kiss.
I touch my ring on his little finger? Kiss, kiss, kiss.
So now, I’m just addicted to them. And it’shisdamn fault.
There’s one thing about this feverish need that has enveloped me since he visited me in my office. It all feels new, yet deliriously familiar.
And I realize, just like with everything else, this non-medicated Cece is an entirely different breed when it comes to sex.
She’s less restrained. Less doubtful. Less cautious. And more… well,feral.
I wonder if it’s because I’ve been stripped of the lens with which I saw our relationship. Shadowed by that clause that’s no longer a part of our lives.
I inhale his musky scent as he carries me to our bedroom. His hands frantically untuck my shirt, roaming aimlessly around my back.
He’s mumbling something about my lip gloss when he lets me down near the edge of our bed. Capturing my lips in a searing, near-desperate kiss. “Cece, baby, you gotta be sure,” he rasps, yanking his blazer off and pulling his shirt over his head. “Because I’m not sure if I can hold back tonight.”
I hurriedly take off my own shirt and pants, leaving myself in just a pair of teal underwear.
His one hand wraps around the back of my neck again, the metal of my ring cool against my heated skin. The other fumbling blindly with his belt.
My mouth is already parted, as usual, when I have a sudden vision of a way evenhecan evolve this signal of his.
My confidence wavers for half a second before I shove him lightly. He lands on the edge of the bed with a dull thud, eyes wide. He’s already shirtless now, his eagerness palpable even through his questioning gaze. “What are you—”
In a blink, I drop to my knees, hooking my fingers around the waistband of his pants and boxers, and the damn man helpfully lifts his hips, letting me strip them off.
There he is, completely naked, bared to me with his undeniable, glorious muscles. And irresistibly mine. His hard cock rests against his stomach, but Idon’t touch him immediately. He’s watching me now, waiting, with his hooded eyes gleaming with need.
Lightly trailing my fingers up his thighs, I stop just shy of his eager, rigid length. I grin when it twitches, his face pinching with a mix of frustration and sheer desperation.
“Fuck, you’re killing me, Cece,” he exhales sharply, desire thick in his voice.
A wicked smile touches my face when he takes a deep, ragged breath.
Settling down further between his wide legs, I grip his thighs, slowly dragging my tongue from the base of his cock to the glistening drop of pre-cum at the tip.
His groans echo through the room, spurring me on. Finally, he does what I hoped he would. Leaning back, he props himself on one elbow and then locks his other hand behind my neck, guiding my mouth gently. “Oh fuck,” he grits out when I grip the base of his cock, and envelop the head with my lips, sucking maddeningly. “Fucking hell, baby!” he gasps with a tormented whisper when I groan while taking him deeper. “Jesus.”
Tears well in my eyes as his length meets resistance. But I don’t look away from his face twisted in pleasure, his own gaze never wavering from mine.
God. I’m doing this to him. I’m making him lose and surrender the control I thought he always carried.
“Baby, I don’t wanna—come down—your throat. Fuuuuck,” he manages between breaths, even as he thrusts up to meet the back of my throat.
Reluctantly, I release him with a pop. But not before edging him to his blissful release.
He nods as a wild smirk takes over his face. “Isee… that’s how it is, huh.”
