Page 46 of Cruel Fate

Isaid I didn’t want him to break down in front of me. I was too scared I couldn’t handle it when he did, but he makes it easy—doesn’t ask me for anything but to be there and rub his back as he cries.

He’s had to be strong for Zarah, for the public, for his employees, for the company’s future and reputation, but he doesn’t need to be strong for me. I’m strong for myself, and I haven’t given myself enough credit.

I can handle more than I think.

Feeling weak and being weak are two different things. I can now, I think, spare him some of my strength. He cries for a long time. Misery and despair have built up, and he’s had no one to share them with.

A sad love song plays during the credits, and it floats around us. I knew I’d fall for him, but I wish it hadn’t happened so fast. His love swept me away, and I’m powerless to fight it.

He finally stops long after the credits are done and the TV has faded to black. Sniffling, he lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot,his face splotchy. He looks tired, oh, my poor baby, he looks so tired.

I click off the TV and lead him to my bedroom. I know sex can’t fix everything. Zane’s tried to find peace between a woman’s legs and it didn’t work, but slowly, I think, no, I pray, I’ve come to mean more to him than a quick fuck.

Reaching onto my toes—without heels, I’m shorter than he is . . . by a lot—I brush my lips over his. He sits on my bed, and it’s easier to kiss him. I slick my tongue against his lips, and they taste of salt and sorrow.

Zane pushes his hands under my t-shirt and runs the tips of his fingers down my spine. I shiver, and he smiles under my mouth.

I want to go slow. Show him the difference between eating me out in his office and making love in my bed.

He cups my ass, and I move his hands to my waist. “Slow, Mr. Maddox,” I say, kissing him again, but not releasing his wrists.

Faint hints of ice cream and coffee linger in his mouth, mixing with his own flavor. I’m swollen and needy, and my breasts grow heavy, desperation humming through me.

After he accepted my invitation, I bought condoms. I didn’t want to worry about that part of it. I want to enjoy him and help him forget about all his responsibilities, even if it’s just for an evening. Unbuttoning his shirt, I whisper kisses down his neck and over his chest. At twenty-five, his body isn’t quite filled out—he still possesses a lankiness his youth hasn’t left behind—but I like his slim build, the way his flat belly trembles as I kiss his abs.

He looks sexy sitting on my bed, his white shirt hanging open.

“How slow is slow?” he asks.

“Slow,” I mumble against his lips, raking my fingers through his hair. I don’t want to stop kissing him, but an inexplicable need writhes inside me, begging for more. I pull my top off andhe buries his face between my breasts. I wore the cutest bra I own. I didn’t buy everything I wanted at Donna Karan, and I’m glad it’s dark in here and he can’t see that well.

He seems more interested in what’s inside my bra, and his tongue teases my nipple through the lace. They harden under his touch, and smiling, he says, “I don’t think we’ll be going as slow as you want, Miss Mayfair.”

I skim my fingers over his jaw, and his whiskers scratch deliciously at my skin. I meet his eyes, and I know I will never tire of being with him, spending time with him, making love to him. We could be together for a million years, and I would feel the same as I do right now.Don’t get too ahead of yourself,I warn myself, and I focus on tonight. It’s nice to have time to enjoy each other.

Laughing, I say, “Probably not.”

He chuckles low and smooth, and my heart melts.

He peels my yoga pants off my legs, and I kick them aside. I don’t want to be the only one without clothes on, and I nudge his shoulder.

My impatience amuses him, and his mouth twists into a wry grin. He stands, and I unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. His cock strains against the fly, and my fingers graze his erection as I pull the zipper down. He shudders. I push my hand into his briefs and encircle him, the thick veins pulsing under my touch.

“God, Stella,” Zane moans and releases a deep sigh.

I know how he feels. Tonight will be special. Tonight will change things.

I can only hope for the better.

For both of us.

He wriggles out of his pants, tossing them near mine on the floor, and tugs off his socks. I kneel and pull his briefs over his strong thighs down to his feet. He steps out of them, and I throw them in the direction of our other clothes. His cock is thick andheavy, and gazing up at him, I lap at the pre-cum welling at the tip. Salty, like his tears, tangy like the rest of him.

He growls and tangles his fingers in my hair, but that’s all he does, and I relax.

Trying not to let my teeth graze his skin, I suck him into my mouth, and the tip of his cock touches the back of my throat. I pause, controlling my gag reflex. I want to make this good for him. I did this while he was sleeping and I could work at my own pace, but he’s awake now and in control. He doesn’t know I haven’t done this very many times, how inexperienced I am.

I caress his balls, and his cock surges in my mouth. His hands yank at my hair, encouraging me, but my jaw starts to tire, and reluctantly, I release his cock and lean away. I don’t want to disappoint him, but my face is starting to ache. “I’m sorry. I haven’t done that enough.”

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