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She hummed around me, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. Pulling back, she looked up at me, grinning with a sense of accomplishment before speaking in a tone dripping with desire, “This is just the beginning.”
And with that, she rose above me, positioning herself over my throbbing length. In one fluid motion that spoke volumes of her need, she sank down onto me, taking me in fully, completely. My hips bucked up involuntarily, seeking even more of that exquisite tightness that enveloped me as she began to ride me with a fervor that matched the madness of our lust.
“Fuck, yes,” I hissed, overwhelmed by the sight of her above me, her body a perfect instrument of seduction. Every roll of her hips, every clench of her inner muscles, drew me closer to the edge, but this dance was hers to lead. It was a dance of power, of giving and taking, and I was all too willing to follow her steps.
“Tell me how much you want this,” she demanded, her voice laced with authority and need.
“More than anything,” I groaned, the truth of my words echoing in the depths of my soul. “I want you—every inch, every moan, every climax.”
“Then take it,” she urged, her movements becoming more frenetic, her passion unrestrained.
We moved together in a rhythm as old as time, our bodies speaking a language that needed no translation. With every thrust, we climbed higher, chasing the culmination of our desire, seeking the blissful oblivion that awaited us just beyond the next peak.
“Look at you,” I growled, my hands reaching up to slap her breasts, watching them bounce with each collision. The sound mingled with her lascivious cries, forming an obscene symphony. “So beautiful, so fucking perfect.”
“Harder,” she breathed out, her eyes glinting with untamed desire. “Talk dirty to me, Cass.”
“You’re my insatiable little slut,” I replied, my voice hoarse with arousal. “You can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”
“Never,” she gasped, picking up her pace. “Fill me up, Cass—mark me inside.”
I couldn’t resist her any longer, the primal urge to dominate, to claim, roared within me. With a swift motion, I pushed Mila onto the bed beneath me, pinning her down with the weight of my body. I began fucking her brutally, reveling in the way she begged for more.
“Please, Cass, don’t stop!” Her pleas were music to my ears, spurring me on.
“Mine,” I grunted, each powerful thrust punctuating the word. Our bodies slapped together, the sound carnal and raw. The tight heat of her enveloped me, drawing me deeper into her essence.
“Yours,” she confirmed, her nails digging into my back. “Always yours.”
The world narrowed down to this singular moment, the inescapable vortex of our passion pulling us toward the inevitable climax. We raced towards it together, her body trembling beneath mine, my name tumbling from her lips in a litany.
“Come for me, Mila,” I commanded, feeling the familiar tension coiling at the base of my spine.
With a cry that pierced the stillness of the room, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own. I poured myself into her as we crested the wave together, our release a cataclysmic force that left us both panting and spent.
In the aftermath, as we lay entangled in each other’s arms, the realization settled over me like a soft blanket. This—her body slack with satisfaction, her breath warming my skin, her heart beating against mine—this felt right. More than right; it felt like destiny.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mila
The inevitable happened. A couple of days later, I walked into Breadcetera to meet Josie and Melody and stopped dead in my tracks as my eyes caught the front page of a tabloid on a nearby table. There we were—Cass and me—plastered beneath a bold headline: Billionaire’s Wet Affair with Community Center Maid!
I snatched up the paper, heart hammering in indignation as I scanned the article. Words like ‘sordid’, ‘secret tryst’, and ‘hidden agenda’ leaped out at me. They twisted our connection into something squalid, something bought and paid for.
“Can you believe this?” Josie gasped over my shoulder. “They’re making you out to be—”
“I know what they’re making me out to be,” I snapped, anger surging through me like a current. “And it’s all lies.”
My hands trembled as I folded the paper into an angry square and shoved it back onto the table. They didn’t know anything about us—about the truth of our relationship or what Cass meant to me.
“It’s just trashy gossip, Mila,” Melody tried to console me with a gentle hand on my arm. “Anyone who knows you knows better.”
But her words were small comfort against the roaring injustice in my head.
***
The early morning light barely peeked through the curtains, but already, my phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand. A sinking feeling settled in my stomach as I read the headlines splashed across the screen, each more sensational than the last. My life, once a private struggle, had become a public spectacle.
