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Chils would never agree that this is an actual relationship, so I need to find a way to stay close and let her come to the same realization as me. To accept we’re good together.
There is more to our partnership. Being more involved with her work these past two weeks, I figured out a way to make sure we stay close even after I return to Chicago.
And before she knows it, she’ll be in a genuine relationship. I wanted to tell her today about my plans, but I need to let her grieve.
“Madeleine was lucky to have you. You made her last days here better.”
I flip her to face me, but London squeezes her eyes shut, only a lonely tear escaping. I grab her wrists and drag them above her head. Her heart beats against my chest and my erection throbs between us.
I have half a mind to fuck the sadness out of her. To give her all she needs to forget. She lost someone today, and I want to give her the chance to cope.
“Look at me, Chils,” I growl.
She pries her eyes open. Scowling. That’s my girl.
“Your visits made her happy. Brief moments of happiness are better than no joy at all. Do you understand?” I bark the last question because I swear the woman needs to break that vicious cycle of not-enough.
She glares at me as the silence ticks away and the sexual tension grows. The way her naked skin feels against my body is addictive.
“Yes,” she rasps finally, her chest heaving.
“Good girl.” I kiss her gently, but she bites my lip, and the kiss turns desperate quickly.
I grip her wrists with one hand and explore her body with the other. I’m familiar with every inch of her, all her sensitive spots. Like when I feather the hollow around her hip bone with my finger, barely touching her, her nipples harden.
Despite that, it’s always new. Every time I touch her, her body responds differently, letting go more. Letting me in more. At least physically.
I pinch her nipple and she sucks in air. Roaming farther down, I slick my fingers through the swollen lips of her wet pussy. Her hips buck and she arches, asking for more.
“Thank you for round one. I needed to feel in control, but can you fuck me now?” She wrestles to free her hands. The fiery dragon is back. She wraps her legs around my waist and lifts her hips, seeking friction.
Something dark and satisfying spreads through me when she asks me to take control.
“I’m going to release your wrists, but you keep your hands up there. If you move them, you get punished. If you move, you get punished.” I search her eyes for her consent.
Desire and defiance war in her eyes, but as she licks her lips, I know which is winning.
“You should tie me up then.” Her breathing is labored.
“No, Chils, you need to control yourself if you want to come.”
Her face constricts into that mask of contempt she wears so well, but her eyes sparkle with excitement. I chuckle and let go of her wrists.
She keeps them above her head and her body relaxes beneath me. She looks almost innocent. Fuck me.
“Good girl. Don’t you dare move.”
I take my time, slowly trailing her curves with my lips, my tongue and teeth. It hits me that I’ve never felt this alive with any other woman before. I thought she just helped me find my mojo, but it’s more than that.
Being with her is better than winning a case. More thrilling than a new car. Just consuming. Wonderful. Scary. All I never wanted, yet can’t get enough of now that I’ve had a taste.
I’ve never had a long-term partner, and I appreciate now how the familiar could be more exciting. How taking care of Chils is rewarding for me. I want to be less selfish because her pleasure is mine.
It makes me feel more alive than I’d ever felt before my collapse. When my life was full of things, money, prestige and women. And empty at the same time. Giving seems to be the theme since I came to New York, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good.
To her credit, Chils stays still, but she channels her feelings into a series of sounds—moans, groans, exasperated sighs—and colorful invectives to curse me.
But she doesn’t move, and I plan to reward her. Delaying her satisfaction for the most explosive effect.
