Page 95 of Never Let You Go

I moan.

“I see,” he whispers in my ear. His teeth lightly worry my earlobe, then his tongue does some exploring behind my ear, and the shivers it sends down my spine curl and heat up between my legs.

I press my hips to the tops of his thighs, my stomach to his erection beating through his sweatpants.

And I moan again.

“So you’re saying…” he stops talking to lick his way down my neck to the other ear. “You’re saying,” he whisper-repeats once on the other side, “odds are, you’re going to get under my skin, but the kind where I’ll be relieved to see you leave?” He dips down to worry my nipple through the dress’s fabric. I lose the connection with his cock but gain the pleasure of his mouth on my breast. God.

“Un-hunh,” I answer, then, “Oh god,” as his mouth works my nipple harder.

His strong neck is bent over me, and I trail my fingers through his thick hair, my other hand raking his naked, muscular back.

“Guess we’ll find out,” he says as his hand deftly unzips my dress and he comes back up to face me.

The way he handles me, strong and gentle at the same time, exploring what I like, making me come alive under his hands, placing me before him, I know one thing.

He’s under my skin, and he’s here to stay.

I’ll deal with the consequences later. Right now, I can let go.

The dress drops to my feet. He grabs my ass and hoists me to his hips, twirling me around. “Fuck, baby, you’re beautiful.” He kisses me deep again, walking us to the reading nook. He places me on the bench under the window, my back to him.

“Get on your knees,” he says, “and hold on tight.”

“C-can’t people see us?”

“Kneel.”

I do as he says. My hands grab the windowsill and my knees spread apart on the pillows. My back arches, my ass begging for Christopher. I turn my head, and for a beat, our eyes lock. In the half-light of the streetlamps, I see him reach inside his pocket and throw a condom on the windowsill.

Then, he kicks his sweatpants off, freeing his thick, bobbing cock. My mouth waters and gapes at the beautiful sight, and my center clenches. I drink him in.

This.

This is a man.

His jaw tenses, and his breathing is heavy, but his hands are warm and comforting as he traces my back and cups my hips. I tilt my face back to the window and look at his reflection as he positions himself behind me. He caresses my ass with one hand, a breast with the other, then makes his way along my bodice, kneading his thumbs at the sides of my waist then fluttering his fingers along the length of my torso.

Slowly, he plucks one single ribbon open from the dozens that line the back of the bodice. He could have chosen the buttons in the front, where I could see him. There’s also a faster way.

“There’s a zipper,” I whisper, pushing my ass against him, desperate to get him skin to skin.

“Lovemaking is like breadmaking, Alexandra. If you rush the preparation, if you skip some steps, you won’t have the right result.” He tightens a ribbon sharply. “Understood?”

“Understood.” I squirm.

“I’m going to knead every inch of your body until you’ve lost the capacity to talk.”

His heat warms my back as he slowly unties my bodice. He sets one foot on the bench so his cock grazes my shoulder while his hands are occupied behind me. I tilt my head, licking my lips at the sight of the precum on his tip.

For the first time in my life, I’m getting soaked at the idea of giving head.

“If your pretty little mouth gets any closer, I am going to lose it.” He groans. “Look outside,” he orders.

I swing my head back, and my hair gets caught on his erection. I linger there.

“Witch,” he says, removing his foot from the bench.

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