Page 59

Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

My knees stutter forward before I can even think. I follow. Like a fucking animal, like a pet, like I’ve never been given something more powerful than this—than her. My palms drag across the carpet, fingers curling into it like traction might save me, but my legs feel weightless, buzzing, every nerve shot through with heat.

She’s ahead of me in the dark hallway, hips swaying beneath that sheet, feet silent against the floor. I’d follow her anywhere. Into fire. Into hell. Into every part of myself I thought I’d buried to survive this job, this life, this version of me that didn’t even know I could kneel for someone and like it.

She pushes her bedroom door open. The room is shadowy, dim, lit only by the faint spill of hallway light. I crawl across the threshold and pause, breath shaking, forehead damp.

Without a word, she lets the sheet fall to the floor. Then she climbs onto the edge of the bed and spreads her legs, bracing herself on her palms. Her thighs part wider. Her pussy glistens in the low light, bare and wet.

My nails dig into the carpet, trying to anchor myself to sanity.

She was naked. The whole fucking time.

Holy shit.

I stare, brain short-circuiting… The slope of her collarbone, the dusky line of her sternum, the curve of her waist, the shadow between her thighs. She’s fucking beautiful, and she owns me, and I think I’m going to die.

“You coming, or do I need to drag you the rest of the way?”

I surge forward on hands and knees, heat pulsing in my cock so hard it’s almost painful. My head swims, everything blurring at the edges except her—her, her, her—and the way she’s watching me like I’m prey already snared.

She lifts one bare foot and taps the air between us with a flick of her ankle. “Crawl closer,” she murmurs, head tilted. “Put your mouth to use.”

Yes. Fuck, yes.

My palms drag me forward, knees following. I reach her, breath caught behind my teeth, and don’t wait for another order. I press my mouth between her thighs and drink her in. She’s already wet. Already warm. My tongue licks a slow line up her and she opens for me, soft and slick and perfect. I press closer, soaking my lips in her taste.

“Don’t stop,” she hisses, reaching down to tug at my hair. “Right there. Stay right fucking there.”

Her leg hooks over my shoulder, pulling me in tighter until I’m smothered in her. Mouth soaked, nose brushing her skin, breath shallow. I can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe—but I never want to stop.

Her thighs are slick and trembling against my cheeks, the taste of her everywhere—on my tongue, on my lips, dripping down my chin. I suck her clit into my mouth, slow and deep, and a muffled, hungry whimper rattles its way through my chest.

She gasps, hips snapping up against my mouth, and I chase it like a fucking animal. God, I chase it. Tongue greedy, jaw aching, breath stuttering out of me in hot, desperate bursts. I grind down into nothing—rubbing against the mattress, the air, the sweat-damp fabric clinging to my cock like it might be enough, fucking the space between us with no relief, hard and leaking, soaked through my sweats. I can’t stop moaning into her, can’t stop chasing every twitch of her hips, every broken sound that slips out of her mouth.

“Such a mess,” she says, breath hitching on a laugh. “So fucking needy.”

I groan into her—louder this time—half-lost, tongue flicking in desperate, greedy circles. I can feel it in her thighs, in the tremble starting to take her over, in the way her hips snap forward like she can’t help it. She’s close. Fuck, she’s so close.

I grip her thighs tighter, sucking harder until she comes with a cracked, raw moan, her whole body curling forward. Her thighs lock tight around my head, one hand clawing at the sheet, the other fisted hard in my hair, holding me right there as she grinds herself against my mouth and rides the orgasm out on my tongue.

And I don’t stop. Not even when her whole body starts to shake. Not even when her gasps turn sharp. Only when her hand suddenly shoves at my forehead do I finally pull back, panting, chin soaked.

She sits upright with a slow exhale, her chest rising hard, skin glistening under the lamp like heat’s still clinging to her. Her eyes flick down to me—still on my knees, still fully clothed, panting.

Her mouth curves up into a smirk. “You’re still dressed,” she murmurs, breath still catching. “That’s cute.”

I blink, heat flooding up the back of my neck. “I—do you want me to… I mean, I⁠—”

She nods once.

My hands fumble with the hem of my hoodie. I peel it off, then the shirt beneath, dragging the fabric over my head with shaky arms. My skin prickles in the cool air as I stand to hook my thumbs into the waistband of my sweats and shove them down, my boxers going with them in one ungraceful tug. My cock springs free, flushed and angry, pre-come already leaking from the tip. It aches, heavy between my thighs, twitching in the open air as I stand there, naked in front of her and so painfully hard I could cry.

Her gaze drags over me slowly as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “Top drawer,” she says, nodding toward the nightstand. “Condoms. Under the underwear.”

I scramble toward it, yanking it open with shaking hands. My fingers fumble past neatly folded black lace and cotton, a few twisted pairs of socks, until I find the box and snatch out a foil wrapper.

When I turn around, she’s moved. She’s further up the bed now, body stretched back against the pillows, one leg bent at the knee. Her skin’s still glowing, still flushed, and she’s twirling something between her fingers. Long. Black. Silky…