Page 51 of The One-Night Heist

I’d assumed he was about to order me into the shower again, but then he leaned down and began methodically licking my chest and stomach.

Fuck.

“Even your cum tastes expensive… Jesus,” he complained before refocusing on his work, running his tongue through every dip and crevice until not a single drop remained.

When he sat back on his heels again, removing the plug along the way, I propped myself up on my elbows. “Are you going to fuck me now?” I asked, although I was also prepared to beg.

I need it.

Instead of replying, Rowen pulled his pants and briefs down his thighs so his cock sprang free before opening his mouth and releasing a mixture of saliva and cum into his palm.

Then he began to stroke.

He laughed when he caught me gaping at the sight. “Yeah, I know you probably have another bottle of that 14-karat gold lube in your drawer, but it’s so much filthier this way, hmm?”

“The lube you stole from my hotel room,” I replied absently, falling back onto the mattress but keeping my eyes locked on the mesmerizing sight of his long fingers encircling his dick.

“Borrowed, you mean” he countered, his breath hitching. “Thanks for that, by the way. It’s truly elevated my nightly jerk-off sessions.”

My brain was short-circuiting, not just from the visual aid of how his “jerk-off sessions” might go, but at how physically close he was, how if he just leaned forward, he could⁠—

“I’m not gonna fuck you today, Giano,” he rasped as he increased his pace, the wet sound of spit and more against skin making me feral. “But I would like to see my cum in your ass. Would that be okay?”

I nodded before realizing he probably wanted verbal confirmation. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Fuck, I love it when you say please,” he mumbled, moving closer so that his dick nudged against my opening. “Such a needy little slut…”

I need you.

“Please, Mr. Quincy,” I whimpered, proving his point ten times over, because my desperation was absolutely genuine when it came to him. “I need you inside me.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure if he would agree, but then he muttered “fuck it” before shoving just his crown into my hole—continuing to stroke as he released a guttural groan and unloaded in jerky movements, filling me up and claiming me as his.

Because I am.

I whimpered again as he withdrew, which earned me an amused huff. “You liked that, huh?” When I nodded dreamily, he smirked—the only warning I got before I felt something being pushed inside me.

“What…” I raised myself up onto my elbows again, watching in shock as the teal butt plug was secured back into place. “What are you… doing?”

Rowen gracefully slid off the bed and tucked himself away. “Nothing you won’t like. I assume you need to start getting ready, right? Go ahead and shower, but leave this in.”

He tapped the base of the plug for emphasis, but when I continued to simply gape, he crawled back onto the bed, hovering his mouth over mine—taunting me yet again. “That’s right, Moneybags. I want to watch you at your little press conference today, all buttoned up and lying to everyone while my cum is still in your ass.”

I should have said no, since this “little” press conference was actually an incredibly big deal, but instead, my entire body went lax once again. “Yes, Mr. Quincy.”

A soft smile spread over Rowen’s perfect face. “Good boy. Can I borrow a jacket?”

What?

“W-why do you need a jacket?” I asked, gingerly sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, knowing I needed to focus.

He shrugged and turned to face my full-length mirror to readjust his clothing. “I thought I’d have time to zip home before the press conference, but my boss wants to talk to me about something first.”

Yes, she certainly does.

I stood and strode to where my robe was hanging on the en suite door, knowing it was only a matter of time before Rowen was annoyed with me for my meddling.

Desperate measures.