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Victor turns his head to look up at me, his beard scraping against my skin. “What do you think this is?”
“I succeeded?”
“You overperformed.”
He returns to the task at hand and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. Twice in two days, Victor has focused more on my pleasure than his own. It’s not what I would have expected. Perhaps it’s because he has to be in control, but if this is what Victor in control is like, well…
Bring it on.
A large, impatient hand on my knee spreads me wider and I give up any pretense of stroking him through his pants. There’s no room for concentration when he sucks my clit into his mouth. “Victor,” I whisper. “Victor, I can’t, not here.”
He doesn’t stop, and in the rising tide inside of me, my body says something different. It can, and it will. This is my husband. This is our car driving us home to our apartment. And it’s my pleasure to take.
So I dig my fingers into his hair and focus on nothing but the sensation of his tongue, flicking back and forth. “Like that.”
There’s a hum against my clit as he agrees, and a few seconds later, the orgasm sweeps over me. I turn my head against the headrest to keep from moaning, fingers tightening in his hair. He doesn’t stop licking me. Doesn’t take his mouth away until my legs relax against the leather seat and my hand slides out of his hair, resting on the nape of his neck.
“That’s right,” he murmurs. “You can’t tease me like that, Myers, if you can’t take the consequences.”
“Cecilia.”
He presses a close-mouthed kiss to my sensitive clit. “Cecilia,” he agrees, and pulls the hem of my dress down.
Dazed, I look out the window. “We’re standing still.”
“We have been for a few minutes.”
“Oh. We’re home.”
“That we are,” Victor says. He reaches down and rearranges himself, a frown on his lips. “Can’t wait to get inside.”
“Inside what, exactly?”
His eyes light up. “Inside who, I think.” Victor knocks on the partition and raises his voice. “Night, Steven.”
A muffled voice comes from the other side. “Night, Mr. and Mrs. St. Clair.”
My cheeks burn. I’d forgotten him completely, but it seemed Victor hadn’t. And he’d still done what he did. “Oh my God,” I whisper to him, out on the sidewalk. “Steven just… he was there the whole time.”
“He didn’t hear or see a thing,” Victor says. His arm wraps around my waist and I’m half-carried, half-escorted through our lobby. Good thing, too, because my legs feel weak.
“Let’s give him a raise.”
“Will it ease your embarrassment?”
“Yes.”
Victor slams the button to the elevator. “Then consider it done. Now come here.”
His kiss tastes like me and ignites the same fire he’d slaked just minutes earlier in the car. My body burns for his.
I’m the one who unlocks our apartment with the keycard tonight. Victor steps in behind me. Without letting myself hesitate, I push him against the closed front door. His eyes meet mine, but the flash of confusion turns to surprised approval when I drop to my knees.
“Myers…”
I undo his belt buckle and slide down his zipper. It’s difficult to get it over the hard bulge beneath, but with heroic effort, I manage. I slide my fingers beneath the elastic of his boxer-briefs and tug them down. He springs out, hard and swollen and gleaming at the tip. “You don’t think you’re the only one allowed to tease?”
His eyes tell me he’d thought just that. They flutter closed as soon as I grip him, skin hot and firm to the touch.
