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“Are you wet for me?” I asked, looking up at her but not touching her to confirm.
She tipped her hips in my direction.
“You want my mouth, baby girl?”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m not your baby girl.”
“Sure, you are, sweetheart,” I insisted, loving how I riled her up, physically and mentally. “If you want my mouth on you, you’re going to have to tell me.” I wanted her to be honest with me. I wanted to hear that she desired me. That this wasn’t a power play. I needed to know she wanted me as a man.
Gia narrowed her eyes on me. “Silas, touch me—”
I raised a brow, needing to hear the dirty words.
Her hand rested lightly on my hair. “I want your mouth on my pussy.”
“Fuck. That word on your lips.” Heat rushed to my cock as I hooked my hands in the band of her lace panties and tugged them over her hips. The sweet smell of her arousal spurred me on as I spread her legs with my shoulders.
Her fingers tightened in my hair as I breathed her in.
“I like you on your knees for me.”
Without responding, because I loved it, too, I dove in, licking and sucking, devouring her sweet taste. She relaxed against the door, her hands an anchor in my hair as she tipped her hips toward me, and I added a finger.
I looked up at her, wishing I’d taken the time to remove her bra. “I want to see you. Feel you.”
Gia got the hint because she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. Her hard nipples and pert breasts had me harder than a rock.
She was gorgeous. The hottest woman I’d ever had the pleasure of being with. In my lust-filled haze, I had a feeling it was because there was something else between us. Not just desire but mutual respect, an attraction that went beyond the physical, but I wouldn’t explore that. This was a release of tension. An unraveling of pent-up desire. I wouldn’t let it be anything else.
I wouldn’t let the tenderness swirling in my chest soften my touch. In my wildest dreams, I never thought I’d be pleasuring Gia Giovanni in the closet of my hotel. Knowing this might be my only chance with her, I wanted to make it good. I wanted her to think of me long after her orgasm had faded. I wanted to ruin her for all other men.
I wanted her to light up only for me. A sense of possessiveness struck me while I added a second finger, mimicking how I’d fuck her with my cock. I sucked her clit and reached up to cup her breasts, rolling her nipple with my fingers.
She bit her lip and arched into me, whimpering with desire and need.
I wanted to make her feel good. I wanted her to call out my name. I found that spongy spot deep inside her and curled my fingers.
Her nails scraped my scalp as her muscles tightened, and she cried out. Her walls spasmed around me, and I held her up as she came down.
Her eyes were a little unfocused as she looked down at me.
“Next time you come for me, say my name,” I growled.
The fog in her eyes lifted. “There won’t be a next time.”
She snatched up her bra and hooked it, covering her breasts and pulling her dress around her, not bothering with her panties. She tied the ribbon with jerky hands and straightened her hair. Then she turned away from me, her hand on the doorknob.
“You don’t want to return the favor?” I asked, unable to resist taunting her.
There was something hard and uncomfortable in my chest I couldn’t seem to dislodge. I didn’t want her to leave.
“I have no words except this”—she gestured in my direction—“was a mistake.”
She turned the knob and was gone, leaving me in the dusty storage room that was filled with spare towels and cleaning supplies. I stuffed her panties into my pocket, pleased to have a memento from our time together. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be happening again.
