Page 47 of Choosing the right Man

“Don’t!” His voice is a low growl. “We have something together, something that doesn’t happen every day. I’ll admit it scares the shit out of me. I’ll even admit I saw you and branded you, instantly wanting you. But that has changed. You’re not a whore. Don’t ever say that again!”

“What do you want from me?” I ask. I know he wants sex, but it seems he wants more. I’m confused and vulnerable.

“I don’t know what I want,” he says, his voice rising. He’s angry, but it isn’t me he’s upset with; the situation is throwing him off balance, something he isn’t used to. He isn’t sure what to think about it, what to do about it. I completely understand how he’s feeling.

His heart thuds against mine, and he leans forward, placing his forehead to mine. It’s such a gesture of submission, of vulnerability; my heart melts. He’s as scared of these feelings as I am. To see this man who can have anyone, but wants me, come unglued, act vulnerable is more than I can handle. He’s giving me power here, he’s giving me more than words. He’s giving me what I need more than anything else.

I’m terrified because I’ve developed real feelings for him. I never expected that to happen. I should feel more guilt, but suddenly I don’t. I feel too good with him. It feels right. Can I be in love with two people at once? What kind of a person does that make me? It doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Even with all of the pep-talks I’ve given myself, this one moment of vulnerability he’s showing me is enough to break through all of my self-doubts and guilt.

I wrap my arms around him, and we stay like this for several moments. Neither of us thinks about the food waiting for us. Neither of us is thinking about anything outside of this embrace. I can’t walk away anymore. It seems I can’t walk away from anyone even when I should.

“Kiss me,” I say. I’ve made up my mind. I don’t even care anymore if I’ll hate myself for it later. In this moment, right here and now, I can’t walk away from him.

He pulls back and looks in my eyes. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve decided, and unless he rejects me again, we’re moving forward. Maybe I’ll regret it, but I can’t walk away from him.

Fire is always brewing beneath the surface with him, lighting his eyes. He wraps his hands beneath my butt and pulls me up as he moves toward the couch. His lips settle on mine. It’s a gentle kiss — a relieved kiss.

But as soon as he lays me down and covers my body with his, all gentleness evaporates. It’s been too long in coming. We need each other too badly. My clothes are shed in a rush as he fights with buttons and zippers.

His mouth trails across my neck, down my chest, and over my trembling stomach. I look at him as he sheds the last of his clothes, needing to taste him as he’s tasted me. His body is sheer perfection, not a single pinch of extra flesh on him. He’s solid and smooth, tanned and beautiful.

I lower my head, and my mouth trails across his chest, my tongue circling his nipples. He moans as I suck one. My core tightens and tingles. I’m on fire. He tastes as good as he smells.

I pull his pants off, gasping as he springs free, his thickness greater than I imagined. He’s smooth and hard, thick and long, and absolutely beautiful. I wrap my fingers around him and slide them up and down, the shiny gleam on him giving me lubrication to pleasure him.

I have to taste him. My mouth circles his thick crown, and I groan around him as my fingers squeeze. He’s delicious. His fingers clench in my hair, tugging hard as I move my mouth up and down his length. His body is tense, his legs tremble.

“Enough,” he groans, pulling on me. I want more. I want his hardness buried deep inside me.

He flips me over to my back, no clothes between us. I’m mesmerized by the passion in his eyes as he lies over me. He kisses me, and I hold on tight, our mouths colliding.

His hands are on my hips. He moves his head as if he’s going to explore my body more, but I cling to him. I don’t want that. I want him buried within me.

“Condom,” I pant. “I want you now.”

“Yes.” He reaches for the table next to the couch, pulls open the drawer, and the beautiful sound of a condom packet ripping open is a symphony to my ears. He quickly sheaths himself, then positions his body over mine.

“Look at me,” he demands.

I open my eyes and gaze into his. He clutches my hips, and I can’t turn away. Our bodies are damp with arousal. We’re both ready. He kisses me one more time before leaning back. Then he begins pressing into me.

He’s so thick, so hard, so big. I stare at him, completely lost in his gaze as he buries himself deeper. He rests for a moment as my body adjusts to him. We fit beautifully.

Then we move together, both of us frantic to know each other, to complete this journey in an explosion of pleasure. Our moans ring through the room as he thrusts in and out of me. Pressure builds. He kisses me, hard and rough, as he pushes harder and harder, faster and faster.

I can’t do much more than hold on tight and pray I’m not lost forever. The orgasm takes me by surprise, ripping through me,leaving me bare and vulnerable without any defenses. He follows quickly behind me, crying out my name as he finds his release.

It takes a long time for us to come down from the high we’ve reached together. He doesn’t let me go, doesn’t disconnect from me. I cling tightly, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting to return to the real world.

But reality settles in. There’s no other choice. We disconnect, finally part from each other, and both of us dress. I’m unable to talk, not sure how I feel. Can we walk from his office without either of us saying a word to the other?

“This is right, Chloe. Don’t think it isn’t,” Mason demands.

I turn and look at him. Do I have regrets? Shockingly, I don’t.

“Thank you.” He gave me a gift I didn’t realize I needed.

“This has just begun,” he promises.

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