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And still it’s not enough. She’s given me so much—her body, her trust. Yet I want more. I want everything she has, everything she is. And I will have it. Eventually. For now, I’ll keep pushing for—and keep taking—everything she wants to give me.
And so I kiss her. Wickedly. Crazily. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her, until I can’t tell where she begins and I end. Until her lips
are swollen and so are mine. Until her mouth and this moment are the only things that matter.
And then I kiss her some more.
She moans deep in her throat, gasps, and I revel in the sound.
Revel in each moan and cry that leaves her lips and enters mine.
Revel in the way she opens to me, sharing her secrets and her pleasure.
I’m learning her with each glide of my tongue and nip of my teeth, unlocking her mysteries with each stroke of my hand and press of my hips.
I know now that a quick slide of my tongue across her lower lip elicits a warm sigh. A stroke of my hand against her breast evokes a deep-throated gasp. A pinch of her nipple gives me a whimper. And the thrust of my tongue deep inside her mouth makes her moan, low and sultry and dirty. So dirty.
I like that sound most of all, and so I do it again, sliding my tongue against, over, around hers.
And still it’s not enough. Aria’s pleasure is a song and I want to hear every note.
I press gently on her throat, just to feel her sharp intake of breath and the low, shaky exhale that follows. Her head rocks against the glass then, her hands twisting in my hair just enough to cause sharp frissons of pain to wind themselves through my scalp. It feels good, really good, and as a reward I suck her tongue into my mouth, let her explore me the way I just explored her.
She makes a new sound of pleasure, half-whimper, half-laugh, and I add it to the list I’m keeping. And then I give myself over—to her and to the power of this thing that arcs between us.
Eventually it gets to be too much—too much and not enough and everything in between. I rip my mouth from hers, and she moans, whether in protest or relief, I’m too far gone to tell. Shifting slightly, I rest my forehead against the window, my cheek next to hers, as I drag in great gulps of air.
She does the same and for long seconds the only sound in the room is our shaky inhalations. But then Aria turns her head and smiles at me, a sleepy, sexy thing that makes me forget why I needed oxygen in the first place.
She lifts a hand to my chin, runs her fingers over the light stubble there as she blinks at me with those midnight eyes of hers, dark and deep and just a little out of focus.
She’s back in subspace now, her mind and body totally attuned to mine. To what I want. To what I need. As if my dick wasn’t hard enough at this point, that realization has my body pretty much screaming for relief. Instead, I force myself to stand there, motionless, while she learns me. It’s a little late considering the state she’s in, but it’s that state that makes it impossible for me to push her. That state which has me longing to give her anything, everything, I can.
She’s slow and a little clumsy—more signs of how far under she is—but she still feels amazing as her fingers stroke my jaw, my ear, the back of my neck. Then they’re sliding down my chest to the waistband of my pants, slipping beneath my suit jacket and skimming my sides, until she’s tracing light patterns on my spine that have me growing impossibly harder.
I reach behind me with my free hand and grab hers. I bring it to my lips, press long, lingering kisses to her palm before licking my way slowly up her lifeline. Her fingers curl into her palm and I nip lightly at their tips before sinking my teeth into her mound of Venus, the fleshy part of her hand at the base of her thumb.
That cuts through her haziness and she squeaks—in protest or invitation, I’m not sure. So until I am sure, I settle her hand next to her hip, pressing her palm against the glass. And then I’m kissing her everywhere, trailing my lips across her cheek, over her jaw, down the long, slender column of her neck.
When I reach my fingers—fingers I’ve used as both a collar and a mind game tonight—I release the hold I’ve had on her for so many long minutes. Aria makes a sound of protest at the loss and it’s a beautiful sound, maybe the most beautiful one I’ve heard from her so far.
I spend a long time on the hollow of her throat, on the delicate hills and valleys of her collarbone. Kissing, licking, tasting her. Breathing her in. Claiming this part of her.
Trying my damnedest not to claim every part of her as instincts I didn’t know I had are screaming for me to do.
Instead, I nose at the indention at the base of her throat, lick a long, deep stripe against her skin there. She tastes as sweet as she smells and I want to spend hours, days, learning every inch—every millimeter—of her skin.
But she’s shaking, strangled cries coming from deep in her throat, and I know I’ve pushed her as far as I can right now. Pushed myself nearly as far. Weeks from now, hell, maybe only days, I’m sure I’ll look back at this moment and think how far we still had to go. But for now it’s enough. More than enough.
“I’m going to undress you,” I tell her, my fingers going to the buttons of her crisp, white shirt. “I want to see you.”
“Yes.” It’s half-order, half-plea, and my hands start to tremble as I work the first button through its hold.
My hands never tremble. The fact that they’re doing so now—I’m not sure what to think, how to feel.
Because I can’t do anything about them, I ignore them, choosing instead to get to work on the rest of the buttons. And while there’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to rip the blouse straight down the middle and to hell with the consequences, I find the control not to. More for Aria’s sake than my own.
In seconds, her shirt is on the floor beside us and I’m reaching behind her, unfastening the lacy white bra that is about as useless and flimsy as an undergarment can get and still be called a bra. Not that I’m complaining. I can see her areolas through the thin lace—dark pink and aroused and so, so gorgeous. The sight shoots straight to my dick, ratchets up my own want another level or ten.
