Page 114 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

He dresses me in a tank and thin gray joggers and tells me he wants my feet bare. Meanwhile, he’s put on a dress shirt and another pair of pajama pants. On the coffee table next to the couch, he drops a few condoms and a tube of lube.

“Your hair,” I warn him as I get into position.

“I’m getting to it. They won’t start the meeting without me.”He disappears into the adjacent bathroom. When he comes out, he still hasn’t shaved, but he looks perfect. I’d be willing to bet he used some eye drops, too, because he appears wide awake. Settling behind his desk he fires up his screen and logs onto the meeting with the link I sent him.

I open up the notes app on my phone and stare at him until he looks over at me. He gives me a faint nod of approval and begins the meeting.

Gibson locksthe office door while I stare at the condoms and lube. My dick plumps behind the thin sweatpants, as eager as the rest of my body for whatever comes next.

He hasn’t fucked me since our scene in his club, and I haven’t begged—much. The first time really did a number on my asshole, and the bruises on my ass were no joke. I hope this means we’re trying again. Frotting is great and all, but it’s not the same as feeling him move inside me—to the degree that he can.

I run a hand over the back of my neck, the memory of the burn making my hole twitch. I want to ask if this is a scene, but I’ll know soon enough.

“I’d like you on your hands and knees,” he says in a low voice.

“On the floor, or…”

“The couch. Hands on the back, knees on the seat.”

I don’t argue or hesitate even though his delivery makes this feel like I’m at the doctor’s office. Once I’m positioned as instructed, I feel his hands on either hip, peeling the sweatpants down to reveal my bare ass. He makes a low noise as his hands caress my healing flesh.

“I don’t ever stop thinking about this,” he tells me.

My eyes close, and I bite my cheeks so I don’t parrot the words right back. Instead, I lower my face to rest on my folded arms, putting an arch in my back to present myself better.

“Christian…” he whispers.

He said my name like that at the desk earlier when I was being an idiot, and it felt so unfair then—like he was invoking our connection to use it against me—soften me toward him. It reminded me how much I want him and how that want only multiplies and expands. And now it makes me realize that I want access to all his time, which is an extreme desire and unlike me, but I can’t stop it anymore than I can stop the sun from rising.

“Relax,” he says with a few more gentle caresses. “I’ll be careful.”

It doesn’t sound like a scene. I hear the coffee table moving, and then I feel the press of his mouth on my hole—the heat of his warm breath gusting inside.

God, I fucking love this. I do relax, pressing my ass to his face and making a satisfied sound. His kisses are careful and long, his tongue lightly circling my rim and barely penetrating. It’s electric, slow, and I’m rock hard within a minute. He takes his time as he eats me out at a pace that makes me wonder if this is all he has planned. His hands knead my glutes, and his mouth soaks my hole, in no rush at all.

“Gibson…” I sigh as a spurt of precum hits the leather sofa cushion.

“So wet,” he murmurs, replacing his tongue with a fingertip. He traces the ring of muscle without overstretching it—lighting my body up with anticipation.

Moving in a half-circle, he massages the lower half of my rim, building pressure and stretching it over long minutes of drugging, repetitive motion that has my mind soft and blank and my body totally relaxed.

“Is this good for you?” I ask, worried he might be bored.

“I can’t have you swelling up every time I fuck you. I need you too often. I won’t even tell you how often because it’s embarrassing.”

I grin to myself.

“You’re tight,” he says. “Inside and out. These narrow hips of yours don’t give me a lot of space to work with.”

“Sorry…”

“Mm…no. Nothing to be sorry about. I like a challenge.”

“Do you know what you’re doing back there?”

“I know what I’m trying to do. No idea whether it’ll help or not.”

“I don’t mean to be so much trouble.”

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