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Instead of ruining her fun, he quickened their steps to the door where thick vegetation hid them. He placed his palm on the scanner, heard the click of the locks disengaging, and hoisted her up. Butter soft leather slid along his palms as she hiked herself higher on his waist. The heel of her shoes dug into backs of his thighs, but he ignored it in favor of her wicked mouth.
He tipped his head up to catch her smile. He wanted to taste that excitement. Formalities fell by the wayside as he climbed the stairs. Wine, whisky, water—he should have offered her something. He couldn’t wrap his head around the English language just then.
At the top of the stairs, she wiggled down. He felt along the wall to turn on lights, but she shook her head. “I like the moonlight.” She drew him deeper into the atrium. “I came out here that first night. You were asleep on one of the couches.”
He groaned. “I wanted you so much that night. I finished a bottle of whisky so I wouldn’t go in your room.”
She lifted his t-shirt and Logan grasped the material between his shoulder blades to help her. Up, and over his head, the sweat-drenched shirt dropped to the floor. She lowered her mouth to his belly and he hissed out a breath.
Silvery moonlight glinted off the curve of her cheek and made her eyes shine in the darkness. Otherworldly. Like a witch that had complete control of him. She smiled up at him and used the tip of her tongue to draw a line up the middle ridge of his abs, then over to his nipple.
She slowly turned them until a leather chair bumped the back of his knees. She pushed him down and knelt between his thighs. She raked the tops of his thighs through the microfiber material of his pants. With a flattened palm on his belly, she inched higher.
Moonlight teased the line of his silver chain, drawing her attention to it. She drew a half circle around the small charm that sat between his pecs. Many people asked about his necklace and he rarely gave an answer. But she didn’t ask. She trailed the back of her hand up his belly to the charm and then the pads of her fingers on the return trip down.
Two passes, and she was getting ever closer to the sliding hook of his dress pants. His cock was excruciatingly hard. He wished he was strong enough to hold back the groans, but what man could when a beautiful woman was teasing him within an inch of his life?
Finally, she grasped the material and peeled it open. She twirled her tongue along the thin line of hair that gathered under his navel. She lightly grazed her nails across his belly to his ribs and around his back.
“Lift.”
The word, so simple, and yet it spiked his temperature and sweat popped out along his brow. He wanted her mouth on him more than breath, but he was far too close to the edge right now.
When he didn’t move, her nails dug into his skin. “I want you in my mouth, Logan. Didn’t we agree to kick the gentleman side of you to the curb tonight?”
“Jesus,” he hissed and lifted his ass off the chair.
She tugged his pants over his cheeks and down his legs. Instead of letting the material pool to the floor, she whipped them off his feet and over her shoulder. She nosed her way up his legs, nipped the inside of his thigh which made him jump and his cock tighten painfully up against his belly.
Her breath fanned hot across his balls before she used the wide, flat of her tongue to stroke up his sac.
Part of him wanted to grip her hair and pull her over the aching head of his cock, but the other half wanted to know just what she’d do. To control himself through this delicious form of torture, he lifted his arms over his head to grip the cushion.
She turned her head so her lips hugged the base of his cock. Slowly, with excruciating thoroughness, she swirled her tongue along the vein that traveled the length of his shaft. Stroke, then suction, stroke, then suction until her tongue traced the ridge where his head met shaft.
He rolled his hips involuntarily until she finally circled his shaft with her fingers, pulling him away from the searing heat of his belly. Sweat sheened his body as he vibrated against the need to take control. To let her touch him on her own terms.
When she sucked him inside the recess of her mouth as deep as she could, he let out an agonized breath, letting go of the cushion to twine his fingers into her hair. Silky dark strands stuck to her cheek as she bobbed up and down on his shaft.
He pushed them back, tightening his hold at the base of her neck. She stared up at him as she allowed him to guide her up and down. His balls tightened with each stroke as she took him just a little deeper with each pass.
Finally, she couldn’t take any more of him and hummed around his cock and increased her suction. The atrium got slowly darker as he went from enjoyment to impairment.
The night sounds faded away, her moans dissipated, and there was nothing but the roar of blood rushing through his head as he jerked under her. She pressed the flat of her hand over his belly and milked him with her mouth, with her fingers, with her tongue.
When he came back to himself she was nuzzling along his belly and lazily licking his spent cock. He cupped her cheek, tracing the pad of his thumb along her lower lip. Her mouth was swollen, and smudged crescents of her mascara bruised the fragile flesh under her eyes.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
Pleasure ghosted over her face followed by a wry smirk. “You say that to any woman who—”
He put his finger over her lips to halt her words. Clichés were alive in his industry for a reason. What she’d done was different. It was given freely and without ulterior motive or showboating. And it had been the first time, in a very long time, that something had been really pure in his life.
Saying that to her would make her run for the door.
Because he’d have to explain the reasons behind that kind of statement. And right now she was untouched by his ugly life. He wanted her to stay that way more than he’d realized. Enough that he was willing to bury that side of him in favor of this new reality.
This woman that made him feel so much more than the void and anger he’d been swimming in.
