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She leaned in and ran her tongue along the length of him, a shiver working its way through her body. She’d never felt so powerful. Had never felt so supremely comfortable in her own skin. On her knees, in front of a man, she might seem like she was the submissive. But she knew she had the control here. That she’d taken it from him. A good thing, because he badly needed the control stripped from him.
Ferro looked down at Julia, pleasure ripping through him. He was lost. He was past the point of regaining control in the situation. Past the point of thought and reason. He was lost in his needs, in the pounding, insistent need for release, and the need for her to keep going forever.
As she took him deep into her mouth, he lost the capability to think. To breathe. No woman had done this for him before. It was the ultimate in giving pleasure, while taking none. And she did it as though she could feel what he was feeling. As though she was just as lost in it all.
But he wasn’t in charge here. He was at her mercy. And it felt like he was hurtling toward the edge of a cliff, with no choice but to go over. Flame roared through him, pushed him further, faster, dangerously close to the edge.
“Enough,” he bit out. “Julia, I can’t last.”
She moved away from him, her face pink, her eyes bright. “Okay,” she said, her breathing labored.
He moved to her then, undoing the buttons on her top while she finished discarding his pants and underwear. “I have no protection,” he said.
“I, uh…I do.”
“You do?”
“Thad,” she said. As if her assistant’s name explained things.
“What?”
“He slipped some in my purse before I left. He wants to make sure I play safe. And of course I couldn’t tell him that we weren’t…because he has to think we are. And anyway, now we are.”
She shoved at the center of his chest and his legs gave easily, his body sinking into his office chair. Julia pulled her shirt off the rest of the way and unhooked her bra, tossing it to the side. Then she shimmied out of her skirt, leaving her in a pair of black panties and heels.
He’d thought a more vampish image would make her less appealing to him. He was wrong. He liked her like this. Aggressive, sexy. She pushed her panties down and kicked them to the side, then started on her shoes.
“Leave them,” he said.
Her face turned pinker, and she smiled. “Okay.” Then she reached into her purse and produced the condoms, walking to him slowly, her hips swaying. She was the very image of temptation. Of all the things he’d been denying himself for so long.
He was tired of denial. He just wanted to feel her, tight and wet around him, pushing him to release.
He didn’t need a fantasy to stay hard for her. She was the fantasy.
She opened the protection and slid it onto his length, her fingers clumsy, delicate and arousing. “I’m hoping this will work,” she said, putting one knee to the side of his thigh and gripping his shoulders, then bringing the other knee up alongside his other leg.
He put one hand on her lower back, the other around his erection, guiding himself into her body as she lowered herself onto him slowly.
Her hold on him tightened, her head falling back. “Oh, yes, this works.”
He couldn’t speak. He could hardly breathe. He had never wanted with such intensity. Had never had the arousal in his body mirror the desires in his heart like this. It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. And he didn’t care.
He clung to her while she rode him, pushed them both higher. He lifted his face, caught her nipple between his lips and sucked her in deep, the hoarse cry that escaped her mouth sending a shock of need through him.
His lowered his hand, gripped her butt. The answering tightening of her hold on him, told him that she liked it.
And then he couldn’t think anymore at all. His control was back in the distance and he didn’t care. He could do nothing but feel. Could do nothing but chase his release, the pleasure blinding, burning, ravaging old scars and laying them open.
He felt like he was being torn to pieces. She arched into him, her internal muscles pulsing around him. No, this wasn’t like being torn to pieces. That had already happened. His mind and body, his emotions, torn raggedly, violently into separate entities so that he could survive the indignity of his life. Survive the shame.
