Page 49 of Surprise Me Tonight
“You’re so hard for me,” she mirrors my own words back at me, her eyes never leaving mine. “Always so ready.”
“Always,” I echo, my voice thick with desire. I position myself at her entrance, teasing her with the tip, watching her eyes flutter closed as she bites her lip. “Tell me what you want,” I whisper, my lips brushing hers.
“I want you,” she breathes, her hands gripping my hips. “Inside me. Now.”
I don’t make her wait. I thrust into her in one smooth motion, filling her completely, and we both groan at the sensation. She’s so tight, so warm, and I can feel her pulsing around me, her body already responding to mine. I hold myself above her, giving her a moment to adjust, and she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. “Move,” she commands, her voice urgent.
I oblige, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, setting a steady rhythm that has her moaning beneath me. Her nails dig into my back, her body moving with mine, meeting each thrust with one of her own. “This feels so perfect,” I groan, my lips finding hers in a desperate kiss. “So right.”
Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as our kisses deepen, our breaths mingling. I can feel her building again, her body tightening around me, and I quicken my pace, driving into her with purpose. “Come for me,” I whisper against her lips. “Let me feel you fall apart around me.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, her body trembling as she teeters on the edge. “Together,” she gasps. “I want to come with you.”
I nod, my thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. I can feel my own release building, the tension coiling tight in my abdomen. “Fuck, Stella,” I groan, my voice raw with need. “You’re going to make me—”
Her body clenches around me, her cry of pleasure spurring me over the edge. I thrust into her one last time, my body shuddering as I spill into her, my name on her lips. Her hands grip my back, her nails digging in as her orgasm washes over her, and I hold her close, my lips pressing to her shoulder as we ride it out together.
We lie there for a moment, our breaths evening out, our hearts slowing. I roll onto my side, pulling her with me, cradling her against my chest. She snuggles into me, her hand tracing patterns on my chest, and I kiss the top of her head, my fingers threading through her hair.
“That was…” she starts, her voice soft.
“Perfect,” I finish for her, my lips brushing her forehead. “Just perfect.”
She smiles, her eyes closing as she relaxes against me. “We should probably get up,” she murmurs after a moment. “We have to get back to Little Hadlow.”
I groan softly, not wanting to leave this moment, but I know she’s right. “Shower first?” I suggest, my hand sliding down her back, pulling her closer.
She nods, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Together.”
I grin, kissing her soundly before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. She follows, her hand lacing with mine as we head to the bathroom. The shower is hot and steamy, and we take our time, washing each other slowly, our touches lingering, our kisses tender. It’s a quiet,intimate moment, one that speaks volumes without a single word being said.
As we dry off and get dressed, the silence between us is comfortable, filled with unspoken promises and understanding. We don’t need to say it yet, but we both know. This is more than just sex, more than just a fling. This is something deeper, something that scares me and excites me all at once.
The pan hisses as I add the garlic. Not burned.Just catching, as the recipe says. It smells like I vaguely know what I’m doing. A minor miracle.
I swirl the olive oil with a wooden spoon I definitely didn’t buy myself and glance at the oven. Salmon’s in. Roasted potatoes halfway there. The sauce still tastes like cream and effort, but it’ll do.
It’s quiet in the house. The low hum of Stella’s voice drifts down the hall from the little conference room across from mine. She’s been on a call for nearly an hour now — something to do with the event next month. Admins. Venue logistics. Spreadsheets and stubborn opinions. The kind of meeting I usually avoid at all costs.
She, on the other hand, sounds like she’s running the place.
And she probably is.
Funny how much can shift in a few weeks.
We’ve stuck to the rules. Mostly. During working hours we’re clipped, professional, borderline boring — but itworks. She keeps my diary cleaner than it’s ever been, filters my inbox like a bouncer at an exclusive club, and somehow manages to not flinch when I bark about things that aren’t her fault.
And the moment the clock hits five? We change. No announcements. Just something that happens.
She closes her laptop and walks into my office like she’s walked into my life.
Every time I think I’ve got a handle on it she catches me off guard. It’s not just the way she looks at me. It’s the way she sees through me. The way she disarms my broodiness with one arched brow and a dry remark. The way she lets me kiss her slow, like we’re not in a hurry.
And somewhere in between that night at the Shard and now, something’s settled.
Not defined. Not confessed. But solid.
I stir the sauce again, check the timer, and slide open the drawer for cutlery. I’m setting the table. Like this is something I do. Like this is somethingwedo.
