Page 74 of The Vow Thief
I caught my reflection in the window. Charcoal slacks, a white button-down rolled to the forearms, no tie. Clean shave, hair still damp from the shower. The kind of effort that women loved. A little bit of style and a little bit of bedhead.
I poured two fingers of bourbon and let it sit while I adjusted the lighting, low enough to look accidental.
She was meeting me here before the show for a drink, some small talk, something easy to step into before pretending to care about art.
When the knock came, I felt that flair of anticipation before I opened the door.
Julianne stood there in a deep green pantsuit that followed her shape like it had been tailored by someone who understood temptation as a craft. Her hair fell in soft waves, and her lips curved in a smile that felt too genuine to be rehearsed.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
For a beat, neither of us moved.
“Are you going to invite me in,” she teased,“or should I start appreciating the doorframe?” Funny, I thought. That’s something I could hear myself saying.
I stepped back.“Come in.”
She glanced around the space as she walked inside, her eyes catching on the view again. Good. I want her drawn to every part of what’s mine.
The bourbon glass was still waiting on the counter. I handed it to her, poured another for myself, and nodded toward the balcony.“Want to see the clouds before we pay to look at them?”
Her laugh was quiet and warm.“Lead the way.”
We stepped onto the balcony. The air was warm enough to tolerate but carried just enough bite to make her step a little closer. I set my drink down and took both of her hands, holding them out to get a good look at her.
“You. Are. Wearing that suit.”
She laughed and spun once, giving me the full view, like she wanted me to appreciate every inch of it. When she stopped, she rested a hand on her hip.“Right? You know, I love a good tailor.”
My smile said everything it needed to. Her reference wasn’t lost on me.
I closed the distance, erasing what little air had dared to exist between us.
“Since we’re being playful,” I said, my voice low,“that suit would look a thousand times better on my floor, just beside my bed, in a perfectly convenient little pile.”
Her smile turned slow and deliberate.“Now that Mr. Taylor is what I call modern realism.”
Our mouths met in a fevered kiss. It wasn’t careful or tentative. It was hunger meeting hunger, and neither of us wanted it to end.
We stumbled through the balcony doors, still kissing, our hands finding every place they shouldn’t and then going back anyway. The taste of her, the heat of her skin through the suit’s fabric, was all too much and not nearly enough.
By the time we reached the bedroom, we had started taking our own clothes off, fast and graceless, clothes hitting the floor in a line that marked our path.
Then there was nothing left to separate us.
The need was immediate, reckless, a collision that felt both inevitable and right. Every touch fed the next. Every sound drew us closer. There was no patience, no distance, just the sharp edge of wanting and the relief of finally giving in to it.
I buried my face between her breasts and plumped each one in my hands, rolling her nipples between my thumb and finger. She pushed me back on the bed and dropped to her knees. The lust in her eyes made my cock jerk. She pushed my legs apart enough to move her mouth to my balls. She ran her tongue across my sack and sucked each one into her mouth. I growled and convulsed at the same time. She was going to devour me and I was going to let her. She took my cock in her hand while her mouth worked my balls. Without warning, she moved her mouth to the base of my cock, trailing her tongue up the shaft and then around the head. She put the head in her mouth and sucked, hollowing out her cheeks and making a popping noise as she let it fall out of her mouth. Then she went down on me, filling her mouth with my cock, then sucking up to the tip. She began moving her head up and down, sucking, bobbing. I was moving with her, thrusting into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, gagging her. She kept going. I was going to come. But then she stopped, crawled up my body like an apex predator, and positioned herself over me. I could feel the heat from her core and her arousal spreading across my tip. She slid down me until she was fully seated. Then she fucked my brains out. Her breasts were in each of her hands as she rode me.
She kept going, sating her appetite, taking what she wanted from me.
Her stamina was impressive.
A thin layer of sweat was forming on both of us as our bodies continuously banged against each other.
First, it was up and down, and then she rubbed her clit against me while my cock fucked in and out of her.“Julianne… FUCK. I’m comi.. FUCK!”
