Page 47 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

I part my lips, allowing him access but forcing myself to not take control, to be still. Unlike last time when I practically assaulted his mouth, I let him lead and take what he needs from me, giving him just enough to let him know he can continue as long as he’d like.

It’s not easy. My semi surges into a full erection with the wet laps of his tongue against mine. “Mmm…” The sound slips out as we continue to kiss gently and slow. It’s perfect. Possibly the best thing I’ve felt in years. Almost in as long as I can remember. His taste is like nectar he’s feeding me, and I accept the delicious flavor of him. So new. So enticing. So fucking hot, it’s unbearable.

His leg shifts between mine as he moves into my mouth from a new angle. His body rolls in the rhythm of a sensuous fuck. My hips tilt involuntarily, stroking my aching length against his bent knee.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Nor does it seem to bother him. If anything, the kiss only gets wetter, sexier.

I don’t mean to, but I put my hand on his ass, holding him in place for my cock to use. Our languid pace makes everything more subtle, even the way I’m grinding as he uses his whole body to make out with me.

It’s the biggest turn on, even though this wasn’t what I had in mind at all. I can’t believe we made it back to this place. That we’ve maybe made it to abetterplace.

His sounds are more restrained as we continue to rock into each other, never breaking mouth contact, swallowing each other’s soft throat groans and satisfied sighs. They’re a second course of this buffet of him. I wonder if he realizes just how sexy he is—that I’ve seen women and men and sex of all stripes, and very little compares tothis.

Jesus Christ, I’m close.

I should stop, but I can’t bring myself to. I want to keep kissing him, and I desperately want to come. I move my grip from his ass to his hip, attempting to save myself the embarrassment, but it doesn’t do anything about his knee gently putting the exact right amount of friction on my cock.

Lust coalesces in my groin, aimed straight at that intense point of contact. Warmth pools in my core, and as his tongue slides over mine again, and his knee presses against my tight balls, I shudder out a breath that ends with a broken groan and cum gushing from my cock, enough to soak my pants in an instant.

I’m mindless as his lips suck mine. My hips jerk with each gush of my release. Everything feels softer. His lips, his body, this kiss that rocked my fucking world off its axis.

Out of breath, I retract my mouth, and he lets his fall to my neck where he leans his head against mine and breathes heavily.

“Was that okay?” he whispers.

Does he realize I came? Is he talking about kissing as aftercare?I can’t string a coherent thought together. All I’ve got is, “Of course.”

“We’re probably gonna have to talk about this at some point,” he says.

“We will.”

“How long until the car gets here?”

I check my watch. “Another hour.”

“I could fall asleep,” he says.

So could I. “Here?”

He nods.

“May I stay?”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s nothing—the privilege of sleeping in a bed with him. Yet, those two simple words rock me harder than the orgasm did.

We rearrange only enough to rest our heads on pillows. His knee remains in my wet spot, and I move my hand to his lower back where his shirt has ridden up. I splay my palm across his hot skin and let him nestle his forehead against my shoulder. Within moments, I’m in an utterly dreamless sleep.

15

CHRISTIAN

Gibson doesn’t want to talk about what we did on the flight home. He wants to meet with me once we’re back in our real lives with Rome solidly in the rearview mirror. I get it. I’m still raw, and I’m definitely reeling.

We work and sleep on the flight, usually in alternating shifts, which gives me plenty of time to stare at him. He could easily go lie down in the bedroom at the back of the cabin, but whenever he finds himself dozing, he reclines his seat, lifts the footrest, folds his arms over his chest and leans his head to the side as his eyes close.

I study his entire body with critical eyes, trying to find something to dissuade me from this growing attraction, but everything about him from his thick thighs to his flat abs and massive shoulders is God-tier. His face is a special case. It no longer looks like the face I associated with my father. It stands alone now—square-jawed and darkly handsome. His hair is untamed under these casual circumstances and roguishly sexy as it falls across his forehead.

He’s become an object of desire—no longer a benefactor orboss, and yet I am hyper aware of that connection between us. I can’t do anything to undo it, nor do I have any desire to stop working for him.

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