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His greedy little noises, his grunts and moans, touch an even deeper place inside me. They bring me to life, waking me up to something more intense, darker than mere pleasure. Hearing him, the way he clearly gets off on tasting me. The worderoticisn't one I've ever used when it comes to myself, but it's the word that comes to mind as I begin to writhe because I can't help it, I can't stay still, this feels too good to hold back.
He chuckles against me when I lift my hips, rolling them, and he responds by withdrawing from my cunt—only to replace his tongue with one finger, then two. Now he can go deeper. Now he can stroke my walls while using his tongue on the bundle of nerves threatening to kill me here and now. It’s aching, pulsing, demanding.
Little by little, one stroke at a time, he strips me of my resolve, of any ounce of strength I had against what is so clearly unfolding. I'm helpless, moaning with abandon now, the pleasure intensifying with every skillful, deliberate lick, with every pressing of his fingers against my inner walls. My head rolls from side to side as an unintelligible string of moans pours out of me.
The pressure builds and builds, my hips bucking frantically, hands sliding over the satin sheets, pleasure flooding my system. It's coming, I know it is, I feel it, and as much as a small part of me still doesn't want to give him my orgasm, a much bigger part of me needs to. Right now.
“Oh God,” I moan, my body tensing, my legs closing around his head. When he clamps his lips around my clit and sucks it up between them, that’s it. I'm gone.
My hips shoot up from the bed while my thighs clamp tight around his head as I scream it out—bliss, yes, relief, release.
But there's more, too, so much more. Everything that's inside me. Confusion, anger, frustration with myself and with him and the situation, all of it pours out of me as the waves of bliss roll on and on until, finally, I'm left sinking into deep, dark oblivion
And I welcome it. I welcome the escape, however brief it may be.
His low chuckle rumbles through me, his mouth still locked onto my pussy. Now he slowly, carefully licks me clean, swirling his tongue around like he wants to catch every last drop, moaning like he's consuming a delicacy he's craved for far too long. Is this for real? Does he truly feel that way?
Why me?
That question lingers longest, still with me when I open my eyes, and the world comes rushing back. My cheeks are damp with tears I didn't realize were falling. Now I know what it must feel like to live through a tornado because that's how I feel. Like my whole world has been shaken up and I don't know where to start putting it back together.
“See?” He lifts his head, wearing a shit-eating grin. If the word self-satisfied had a physical form, he’d be it. “Once you get out of your own way, you know what you want. All you have to do now is take it.”
I'm too ashamed and confused to do anything but close my eyes and turn my face away. He leaves me like that, letting out a knowing little chuckle as he walks toward the door. “Why don't you rest while I get you something to eat? And drink—your throat must be sore from all that screaming.”
He didn't have to sound so smug about it. Like this is exactly how he knew it would go.
“And by the way.” The teasing note is gone from his voice now. “Your apartment is gone. Your few possessions are gone. It’s time to start building a new life.”
At least I manage to wait until he’s out of the room before I start crying again.
6
WARREN
“Today?”Winter’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my announcement. “You want to go to the mall today, of all days?”
“Why not?”
“It's Christmas Eve,” she reminds me as if I had forgotten.
“What about it?” The fact is, she's taking longer to warm up to our arrangement than I expected. I'm not a fool. I knew it would take her a little bit of time to adjust, but it's been three days, and I can barely get her to say more than two words at a time.
She does seem to like the Christmas decorations in the house, though—she sits by the tree for hours, sometimes simply staring at it while wearing a wistful expression. I thought a trip to the mall might brighten her spirits, not to mention confirming I meant it when I said I would take care of her. That she can have everything she wants. The world is hers for the taking.
“But what about...” Her mouth clamps shut, but it's too late. I know what she's thinking. She can't hide anything from me, which she'll figure out soon enough.
“I sent your old clothes out with my laundry.” I place the stack of neatly folded items on the bed. “Get dressed. As for whether this is safe, let me remind you that you have nowhere else to go, and even if you were to find a security guard in the mood to do his job, who would they believe?”
She winces, and I'm sorry for saying it, but it's the truth. The sooner she figures it out, the easier it will be for both of us.
It kills me a little that she’s still thinking this way. About escape. What more can I give her? If I went from the verge of eviction to a mansion and the adoration of someone willing to give me everything, I doubt I’d consider running away.
I lead her to the Mercedes and ensure she's securely strapped in before taking my place behind the wheel. “When was the last time you went shopping without checking the price tags?”
“I think it was so long ago, I didn't know what price tags actually meant,” she admits with a snort.
“That ends now.” She only nods slowly, staring out the windshield. If this trip isn't enough to convince her how serious I am, I do have one final trick up my sleeve. That's her Christmas gift, one she's entirely unaware of.
