Page 56 of Hunt You Down

A few days later, I woke up alone in bed. André had done as much as he could from home, but he was working on a sale that had been stressing him out, and had meetings with clients that day.

I had yet to find out what my place was in New Orleans. I couldn’t work; not until Regan was caught. Not that I would have any idea on what I would want to do anyway. I hated my bank job, and didn’t want to go back to that, but anything else seemed meaningless compared to my millionaire real-estate boss boyfriend.

So, I did what I knew how to do: I tended to the house. Clutter had built up over the apartment again, and I hated clutter. I knew it had to be taking a toll on him as well. He’d gotten tense, often burying himself in work when he thought I was sleeping. He never let me see it, but I knew how stressed he was.

I collected all the trash, washed what laundry I could, and gathered his suits together to be cleaned. My energy wavered as I was cleaning the master bathroom, but I at least wanted to have a meal ready for him when he got home.

That was when he walked in the door. The food was nearly done, and I had a drink poured for him and sitting on the side. André kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag, and went into the bedroom. He must have expected me to still be in bed, because he doubled back to the kitchen with his brow furrowed. “Someone’s been busy,” he remarked.

I handed him his drink, accepting the kiss he offered me. “Well, it’s the first day I haven’t felt like death, so I figured I’d take care of you tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Well, thank you.”

I tipped my head back, silently requesting another kiss. André was a physical person and with my skin being so sensitive, I hadn’t wanted to be touched. He never made me feel guilty about it, but I knew he missed it.

Pulling off, I dragged my teeth across his bottom lip. André groaned and swayed, lightheaded. My chest swelled. I could do that with just a kiss?

“Sit down,” I told him. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

André seemed to shake himself back to reality, sitting on one of the barstools. “How’s it going with that big sale?”

André spun his glass around on the marble, sighing. “I don’t know if I’ll get this one. The guy is being really indecisive. It could be the biggest deal of my career.”

I filled a bowl with the pasta dish I’d made, setting it in front of him. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”

André watched me tidy up the kitchen. When I’d returned from handling the trash, he was closing up the dishwasher.

“I’ve got that,” I said. “Take your drink and go sit down.”

As I suspected, he didn’t fight me. That dishwasher was the bane of his existence.

I found him lounging on the couch, one arm draped over the cushions. He stared at the TV, but I got the sense that he wasn’t taking any of the show in. Sitting next to him, I sidled close to his side, arresting his attention. His arm carefully dropped, draping across my back. “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

I rested my head on André’s shoulder, hand on his thigh. Finishing off his drink, he leaned forward to place the empty glass on the table. My hand slid up, reminding me how long it had been since we’d had sex. Though André didn’t comment. He only relaxed, head falling to the back of the couch—but his legs fell apart. Eyes on the TV, I began to rub his thigh. My fingers tickled across sensitive skin, creeping higher with each pass. When I brushed the head of his thickening cock through his sweats, he let out a low groan, squirming. “You don’t have to,” he panted, as if he were holding onto his last thread of control.

“Oh, trust me, I want to.”

I lunged, grasping the bulge between his thighs. André moaned, louder this time as I squeezed.

“I know it’s been a while.” I shifted to lift myself to my knees on the couch and leaned into his neck. “You’ve been so good to me. Let me be good to you.”

André didn’t protest anymore, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. I massaged his shaft while he watched through heavy-lidded eyes. His hips rolled against my palm. Pressure built low in my belly, but I ignored it. It was André’s turn right now.

Grinding against his hip, I leaned in to suction my lips to his neck. Heat pooled beneath my tongue. I lapped and sucked at the skin until André writhed against me, begging for more. I happily obliged, knocking his legs apart and kneeling between them.

Muscular thighs twitched beneath my fingertips. I ran my hands up his legs, hooking my fingers behind his sweats and tugging them down. His hard cock sprang free, all but leaping into my palm. Clear liquid leaked from his slit. My thumb brushed it away, massaging it into his skin as I gave him one long stroke. André lifted his hand, spearing his fingers through my hair and urging me forward.

My tongue darted out to lick across his cockhead. André’s taste flooded me, spurring me onward.

I sucked, lips chasing the path of my hand. His legs quivered to either side of my head. André clenched his hand tight in my hair, encouraging each firm suck. A whimper pressed through his lips, and I smiled around his cock He’d reduced me to a whining, whimpering mess more than once. It was well past time for a little payback.

André fucked into my mouth, tightening his grip until my scalp stung. Precome leaked from my slit, slicking up my pants but I didn’t care André thrusted, and the soft moans gave way to rapid pants. He was close, and with the press of my tongue against his most sensitive spot, he erupted. His hips bucked, his cock pulsing his release down my throat. Eagerly, I swallowed it down, palming my own erection to ease the pressure.