Page 94 of The Perfect Mistake

She hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her leggings and tugs them down her gorgeous legs, kicking them off, but leaving her panties on.

“And after we’d kissed, after I went down on you…” I shake my head. “I replayed it in here. Over and over again. Now take the rest of your clothes off, sweetheart.”

She reaches for her bra but pauses with a smile. “Is that an order, boss?”

“Yes.”

Isabel tugs the bralette off, and it joins the rest of her clothes on the floor. I groan. She has the best tits. Small, just barely a cup to hold, firm, with taut nipples. They’re like the rest of her. Perfect.

She plays with the elastic of her panties. “Let’s see… did you ever fantasize about me joining you in the shower?”

My voice is hoarse. “Yes.”

She tugs the panties down and steps out of them, and I growl at the sight of her pussy. I grab the base of my cock tightly to stifle the release. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”

Isabel steps under the stream with me. It dampens her hair and sends droplets over her bare shoulders. I let go of my cock and move my hand to my balls, rolling them.

“If I’d have joined you,” she says and runs a hand down my chest, “I would have gladly taken over the morning duties.”

Her hand replaces mine. It’s smaller, and the grip is less firm, but it feels much better. I groan and rest both of my arms against the wall. It cages her in and lets the water break upon my back, away from her face.

“Just like that,” I mutter. “Just a little tighter, sweetheart.”

She adjusts and speeds up, and then she’s pressing tiny kisses to my jawline, to my neck, her naked body wet and right in front of me. I can’t tear my eyes away from her. Can’t stop myself from cupping her tits and tweaking her nipples.

“Did you come in the shower?” she asks.

“Yes.” I slide my hand between her legs and stroke her silky skin. I nudge her entrance. “I’d think of coming inside you, of filling you up right here.”

Her breath whooshes out of her on a soft exhale. One of her hands keeps stroking my cock and the other is rubbing my balls, pressing up at the base of my shaft. “You thought about coming inside me.”

“Isa, I’ve thought about it a million times.” I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes. Fuck, her hands on me feel too good. “It’s all I’ve thought about. My hand on my cock, thinking about your mouth, your tits, your pussy.”

Somehow her grip gets tighter, better, hotter. “Come for me now, then,” she murmurs against my cheek. “Come all over my stomach.”

Shit. I feel painfully hard, and something has to give, and something does give. I throb in her hand, and then I’m coming. My release pulses out of me and over her stomach and chest, while she continues to stroke me through it all. I groan against her temple and let the fire roar through me.

It feels like I just lost ten years of my life.

“And here I was planning on giving you a blow job,” she murmurs. “Shame you didn’t last longer.”

I glide my hands down to cup her firm ass, giving one cheek a soft smack. “There’s always later,” I say. “How old do you think I am?”

She giggles and leans back in my arms. A few drops reach her and mist the crown of her head with warm beads of spray. She looks lovely, with her dark hair plastered around her head, and her lithe body in my arms. Her cheeks bloom in a rose hue, and her skin looks dewy.

Too good for me, I think again. I spin her around, pulling her back against my chest, and turn us to face the spray of water. She giggles again when I grab some soap and start washing us both, taking extra care over her breasts and stomach, rinsing all of my remnants away.

“I wanted you, too,” she murmurs, leaning her head back against my shoulder. “For months, before this.”

I close my eyes against the softly spoken admission. My plan was to ruin her for all future partners, to be the best sex she’s ever had, even if I can’t be the man for her.

I never anticipated that she’d ruin me too.

Isabel

I’m nervous before Antoine arrives, sitting at a table in a downtown restaurant. Candlelight sconces illuminate the room, dancing over the faces of other guests and the servers weaving between the tables like they know each placement by heart.

He is a legend in the ballet world, and the New York Ballet Company has employed him for two consecutive seasons. This is his last one, with the final show in December, and then he’s off elsewhere. From what I’ve heard, it’s back to his native Paris.

---