Page 83 of Every Promise Broken

Relaxing my jaw, I wait with anticipation as he brings the bottle up to my parted lips. Tipping it just so, he fills my mouth with the bubbly liquid. I swallow as he pours, our eyes trained on one another. The act of him feeding me this champagne is erotic, and it sends an inferno of need rippling along every inch of my body.

Conrad pours heavy, a steady stream of champagne dribbling out of my mouth and down my chest. Smirking, he stops, setting the bottle on the table beside him.

With his gaze locked on mine, Conrad pats his thigh once, then twice, and without even uttering a single word, I know exactly what he wants from me. My insides flutter, and I bite the inside of my cheek as I lay my head in his lap. Pulse roaring in my ears, my mouth waters as I feel the thick ridge of his growing erection against my cheek.

His hands find their way to my hair, threading through the strands gently. It feels heavenly.

“Such a good boy you are,” he rasps. “Is this what you wanted?”

Warmth spreads in my chest, going down into my stomach, and then lower. His throaty voice, his hand in my hair, the feel of him, it’s all overwhelming in the best way.

It’severything.

I nod, my hands clenching into fists on my lap, the need to touch myself becoming stronger.

“This isn’t theonlything you want, though, is it, kitten?”

Fuck no, it isn’t.I shake my head.

Conrad hums to himself, fingers tightening on the short strands of hair atop my head. Tugging gently, he lifts my head until our gaze meets. “Stand up for me, baby.”

It’s not a suggestion or a request. It’s an order. One that heats my blood and makes my cock twitch. Standing up, I gaze down at him as his eyes sweep down my body, appreciation and adoration taking over his expression. Warm tingles spread through my veins as his tongue pokes out, wetting his lips. “Beautiful,” he husks. Sitting up, his hand comes to my chest, dragging his fingertips down until he reaches my waist, and then he pauses, flicking his gaze up to mine.

Tucking my chin, I whisper a faint and desperate, “Please.”

I’m standing before him—Conrad Strauss. My ex-husband. The man I have loved for more of my life than I haven’t—and I watch as he admires my naked body. His gaze might as well be a physical touch. I feel it in my chest, in my stomach, my groin. I feel his eyes along my limbs, down my abdomen. Everywhere. Like he’s trying to memorize it all over again.

Stiff and throbbing, my cock bobs in front of him, arousal dripping from the slit, balls tight and begging for attention.Hisattention. Conrad drags his index finger along the tip, gathering up the moisture. “My kitten is so wet for me already,” he hums, bringing the soaked digit up to his mouth, and while holding my gaze, he sucks it clean. A whimper slips past my lips, brows clashing together, and my cheeks heating at the sight.

Conrad sits back in his chair, big, rough, calloused hand pressing over the outline of his impressive erection, stroking himself through the denim material as my knees collide with the floor, mouth watering as I wait for my next instruction. Eyes dark and filled to the brim with desire, Conrad peers down at me, lips parted in pleasure.

I watch in rapt silence as he unbuckles his belt, seamlessly sliding it from around his waist and letting it fall to the floor.

“Take them off me, kitten,” he growls, my heart kicking up a notch at those words as his gaze flicks down to his jeans.

Fingers coming to the button, I waste no time popping it open and sliding the zipper down. Conrad lifts his hips, letting me drag the denim down his thick, muscular thighs until his girthy, stiff cock juts out, slapping his stomach with the weight of it. No matter how many times I’ve seen him like this, I’ll never get over the sheer size of him. Conrad is a big man, in more ways than one. He’s tall, wide, and solid, with an impressively thick cock and a heavy set of beautiful round balls.

Conrad Strauss is all man, and words like “handsome” or “beautiful” don’t even come close to describing him. He’s a rugged type of beauty with rough, weathered skin, deep lines around his eyes from age that he wears so goddamn well, sharp lines, and a thick, cropped black beard speckled with gray.

He is remarkable.

He is a rich, smoky, top-shelf whiskey aged to perfection.

And he’smine.

A thick black brow arches as he watches me. “Do you want it?” he asks, wrapping a hand around his cock. The tip is red and slick, and I’m practically salivating with a need to taste him.

“Yes.” My voice is hoarse, the single word nothing more than a mere croak.

His lips curl up, and a bolt of arousal shoots through my bloodstream, my cock twitching.

Conrad wraps a hand around himself, pumping lazily a few times before saying, “Give me that mouth of yours, kitten.”

Bringing the crown up to my lips, he drags it along the bottom one. Like a fiend, my tongue darts out, gathering up the salty mess left behind, the flavor erupting on my tastebuds.

A groan rumbles in his throat. “You like that, don’t you, baby?”

Closing my lips around the flared tip, I peer up at Conrad from beneath my lashes and nod as my tongue swirls around.

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