Page 16 of Wishing Stone

“I need you, Alex. Take me. Right here,” I breathed.

Pulling back, he looked into my eyes. I was able to see the visible shift in his demeanor when those sapphire blues darkened with unfulfilled promises.

Not wasting a moment, he nudged me back until I was horizontal on the loveseat, then gripped the waistband of my yoga pants with both hands. Yanking both the pants and my underwear down over my hips, he shimmied them over my thighs and calves until my bottom half was completely bare.

His gaze was dark and primal as he moved to place open-mouthed kisses up my legs, stopping just before he reached the apex of my thighs. Parting them slightly, he slid one finger along my waiting slit.

“Oh!” I gasped as he softly grazed the pulsating bundle of nerves.

“My angel is already wet. Good,” he said appreciatively.

Then, without warning, he stood, bringing me with him by lifting me until my legs were scissored around his hips. There was no denying the hardness of his erection straining through his pants and against my naked heat. He wanted this as much as I did.

Moving me to the empty wall next to the sofa, he pressed me up against it. His eyes never left mine the entire time, reminding me of the eternal connection we shared. His gaze was full of fire and lust yet transfixed with reverent intensity.

“Tighten your legs around me and hang on, angel.”

Doing as he asked, I squeezed my legs around his hips and gripped his hard biceps with my hands. I felt his rippled muscles bunch beneath his black cotton t-shirt as he worked to unfasten his belt and the fly to his jeans. A moment later, I heard a thud that signaled his pants had fallen to the floor. Wrapping one arm tightly around my waist, he used his free hand to notch the throbbing tip of his cock to my slick entrance.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” he asked in a guttural tone.

“Always.”

In one quick thrust, he plunged his shaft through my tight clasp until he was completely sheathed. I let out a groan of pleasure, fully surrendering to every sensation only Alexander could make me feel. He impaled me over and over again until my moans turned into borderline screams.

When I finally came, the rushing release was all-consuming. But Alexander didn’t stop there. He continued to sink deeper and harder until I could feel nothing but the delicious pulsing of his seed bursting forth.

7

Alexander

“Riverside Grille too? That’s the second tenant we’ve lost this week,” I said irritably to Bryan, even though I knew none of this was my accountant’s fault.

Bryan didn’t deserve my ire, but I didn’t care. The economic times we lived in coupled with my easily irritable state was a bad combination. It had been four days since the therapy session with Dr. Tumblin, and I’d been feeling edgy ever since. I didn’t like the way Krystina was pushing me and it seemed as if even the littlest thing had the ability to piss me off.

“You could always cut out Christmas bonuses for the staff to make up for the lost revenue,” Bryan replied.

“I’ve already said that wasn’t an option,” I barked.

“I think they would understand if—”

“Bryan, I said it wasn’t an option. Think of something else.”

“I’ve considered what Riverside’s current income flow might look like. The ratios for takeout business versus indoor dining are different for each restaurant, but they might be able to handle a monthly payment plan option to get caught up on past due rent,” he suggested.

“I don’t think that will be realistic. Restaurants were hit the hardest, and they still aren’t seeing the customer flow they once had. People are finally just starting to come back to the city. You should know that after everything Matteo has said,” I pointed out, reminding him of the many struggles my best friend, Matteo Donati, had gone through with his restaurant, Krystina’s Place. “How many months of rent does Riverside owe?”

I heard some shuffling of papers before Bryan responded, “Eight months.”

Jesus.

That was the most any restaurant tenant of mine was behind in rent. While I didn’t have any particular loyalty to the family-owned restaurant, I felt obliged to help them out for some reason.

“Eight months isn’t going to break the bank. If there’s a chance that they can stay in business, erase the debt and let them start fresh. I can’t stomach to see another restaurant in Manhattan close.”

“Whoa. You want to erase it completely?” Bryan asked incredulously. “We’re still dealing with the loss of revenue at Stone Arena. We’ve only just started booking large events again, and then there’s—”

“Don’t argue with me on this,” I stated firmly. “Erase the debt, and when you report back, I want to hear they decided not to close their doors.”

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