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“So you’ll think of me, even when I’m not here.”
I touch the pendant and worry my bottom lip. Evan doesn’t strike me as the romantic type, so his words surprise me. “You are so sweet,” I finally say.
“I’m many things, Madeline, but ‘sweet’ is not one of them.”
I smile, reach out and fiddle with the button at the base of his throat. “It will be our little secret, then.”
His eyes drop to the necklace at the base of my neck, and he runs a finger along the chain. “I’m glad you like it. You deserve pretty things. You shouldn’t hide yourself under old jeans and faded T-shirts. Or even a borrowed dress.”
I frown. How had he guessed that the dress had been borrowed?
“I wasn’t hiding myself,” I say in a whisper, unable to meet his gaze.
His hand moves to my chin, to lift it up, forcing my eyes upward until they are trapped by his beautiful blue gaze. “There’s something that wasn’t in the contract but I would like to exist between us at all times—complete, open honesty. Can you do that?”
I nod.
He smiles, bends his head, and his lips are on mine. The kiss is unusually tender, heartfelt. His mouth doesn’t claim me or dominate me. This kiss is like an honest conversation, a give and take. He advances, then recedes, and I follow him. Our tongues touch and it is electric. Something I can’t name sizzles between us, and I’m afraid to think it’s something more than mere desire.
When he pulls back, he’s smiling down at me. I return the smile and lick my lips. My heartbeat is racing.
He fingers the necklace again. “A statement of who you belong to.”
His smile fades, and I sense something in him shift. Like a blind coming down over his features, closing them off. Then, he brushes his thumb across my lips, pushing the very tip of his thumb between them.
“Such gorgeous lips.” His voice is suddenly harsh. “I’m going to come inside this pretty little mouth.”
Something stirs inside me. The thought of taking his cock in my mouth makes my heart race and my core ache. He raises a brow at me, as if belatedly asking the question.
“Yes,” I breathe.
His lips curl up with satisfaction. He glances at the ground between us. “Get on your knees, then.”
That command in his voice compels me to obey, and without hesitation, I sink to the ground. I look straight at his crotch, noting the outline of his swollen cock through his jeans. I draw an unsteady breath.
I want him. Been craving him since the morning he left me sleeping in that Exeter House bungalow. I want him so damn bad it hurts.
Slowly, he unzips and frees his erection from his boxers. As I remember, it’s huge, the thick, swollen head already beaded with precome. Leaning forward, I lick my lips and gently press my mouth to the very tip.
He lets out a long breath and pushes my hair back from my face so he can see what I’m doing as I bend over his cock. Very slowly, my mouth slips down over the tip, my tongue rolling up the underside of his length, savoring the salty, earthy taste of him.
He groans and threads his fingers through my hair, cupping the back of my head to begin guiding my movements. He won’t even cede control to me here. But I’m quickly losing myself in the moment, closing my eyes in concentration. There is only the feel, the taste of him as he slides in and out of my mouth.
I take him in greedily, my tongue sliding over his velvety softness. He fills me. And then he holds my head firmly, refusing any give as his hips thrust forward and he fucks my mouth, his deep, guttural groans echoing off the walls. I feel powerful with him in my mouth, at my mercy.
“Christ, Madeline,” he moans. “Your mouth feels so good.”
I pull back a little and run my tongue along the underside of his cock, then swirl it around the swollen tip, before taking it back into my mouth.
His grip tightens on my hair, and my eyes water with the pain. Moisture and arousal gather between my legs and I moan. He pushes deeper into my mouth, his cock hitting against the back of my throat. I can only breathe in between his thrusts. And he seems aware of this, varying the length of his thrust, sometimes pushing all the way in and holding it there on purpose. It reminds me of that second time on the dining room table when he had the tie around my neck, getting off on the fact that he had control over my everything, even my breath. And, strangely, giving him that control has excited me, too.
“I’m going to come,” he moans. “Swallow it…”
Holding my head still with one hand and my jaw with the other, he pumps in and out of my mouth, his thrusts clipped and frenzied. Desperate.
His cock swells even thicker, and he stills, letting out a long groan. He comes in a hot, powerful rush. I savor the taste of him, continuing to suck as the contractions of his orgasm fade in intensity. With my mouth, I’m squeezing his cock until he lets out a low, tormented growl of pleasure.
His breathing is hard and ragged as he pulls out of my mouth, recovering. I sit back on my heels, swallowing everything. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, already missing the feel of him filling me up.
