Page 35 of It's Not All Fake

I break our kiss, reclaiming my tongue, and refocus my attention on her neck. Chloe’s head drops back as she allows me access to her sensitive skin. I feel her fingers entangle in my hair.

I kiss down her neck, over her collarbone, and further down. She arches into me, offering herself up. I knead her flesh, pinching and rolling her peak between my fingers, desperate to hear every variation of pleasure I can pull from her throat. My mouth closes over her other breast, eliciting another moan that vibrates straight to my core. My cock is aching to be free, but I push that need aside. I want to savor every inch of her first.

Chloe’s moans crescendo as my tongue flicks her nipple, rolling her other nipple between my thumb and forefinger. For a second, I think that people working late in other offices may hear us, but then I realize that I truly don’t give a damn.

I want to make Chloe lose control and not care either.

I switch to her other breast, taking my time, each pull of my mouth making her quiver.

Soon I think I can’t take it anymore. I need to have more of her.

"Liam..." Chloe whispers, but I'm already moving.

With one arm, I scoop her up just enough to pivot her body sideways, laying her down on the couch. Her breast makes a wet sound as it leaves my mouth, and I turn my attention to her skirt, which needs to come off.

She watches me, her head on a pillow, as I slide the fabric down, revealing her silk panties. I allow my fingers to caress the smoothness of her legs as I draw the skirt down, slipping off her ballerina shoes, and tossing them aside without a second glace.

Now, half-kneeling on the couch with my other foot planted on the floor for balance, I take in the full view of her body, laid bare except for her panties. The vulnerability in her posture calls to something primal within me.

The way she looks at me, it's like she knows what she does to me—how she makes my heart race and my body ache for hers.

Her sudden movement catches me off guard. One moment she's a vision on the couch, and the next she's sitting up, her face level with the bulge in my jeans. Her fingers find my belt, eyes locked on mine, as if signaling that she is taking control now. I won’t argue.

Chloe works at undoing my belt and I grab my wallet from my back pocket. I quickly fish out my emergency condom as she undoes the button and unzips me.

She hooks her fingers on either side of my jeans, ready to pull them down. But she pauses to look up at me, as if wanting that moment of connection before going further. Our eye contact emboldens her, and she pulls down my jeans and boxers simultaneously.

My fully erect cock springs free centimeters from her face and I hear her suck in a breath. The sound she makes shoots straight through me.

I rip open the condom wrapper and move to put it on, but Chloe gently catches my hand. Her eyes flick to mine as she coaxes the condom from my grip. Her touch is deliberate as she places it against the head of my cock. She rolls it down, her other hand encircling me, her strokes a firm pressure that drags a groan from deep within my chest.

With the barrier securely in place, I step out of the denim pooled at my feet. Chloe lays back on the couch and I move over her. I kiss her deeply, urgently, before shifting my attention downward, brushing my lips over her skin, mapping the route to her breasts. They rise and fall rapidly, heaving with every shallow breath she takes.

I trail wet kisses across the valley between her breasts, savoring the warmth of her skin against my mouth.

Descending lower, I let my tongue glide lightly down her stomach. Chloe's muscles contract under the teasing touch, her abdomen tensing with pleasure. She squirms beneath me, the anticipation building with each deliberate caress. My name falls from her lips again, a plea mingled with the sweetness of her arousal.

"More," she gasps.

And I intend to give her exactly that.

The silky edge of her panties meets my fingers, and I pause, looking up at her. She looks at me intensely, allowing me to expose her. Trusting me with her.

I hook my fingers under the fabric, tugging it down over the curve of her hips. She lifts slightly, aiding in her own unveiling, and it's like unwrapping a gift—slow, deliberate, savored.

The fabric slides down, and Chloe obliges me by pointing her legs straight up to the ceiling.

I kneel on the couch above her, pulling the thin material finally off her feet, and tossing it aside. But as she starts to drop her legs, I catch her calves in a firm grip, halting her motion.

Her eyes flash up to mine, wide with a flicker of surprise that I'm not done calling the shots. Not yet.

"Trust me," I whisper low and rough, holding her captured legs in place, still locked together, and pointed skyward.

I lock her gaze, hold it. She nods, biting her lip, and I can almost taste her excitement.

Then, with my hands wrapped around each of her calves, I slowly pull them apart, spreading her legs until I can just fit in between. I drop a kiss on the soft skin of her inner calf. It's a tease, a promise. I hear Chloe’s breathing turning ragged.

"Liam," she pants, and there's a hint of plea in her voice. But I'm nowhere near done.

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