Page 47 of Was I Ever Here

A spike of pleasure makes me clench around my fingers as I stroke my throbbing clit with my other hand. I’m hypnotized by Byzantine's steady gaze and the increasingly urgent strokes of his hand.

“You’re so beautiful like this, little sun,” he groans out.

I whimper, having trouble even concentrating while he continues. “Look at you. Your cheeks flushed, your pussy so wet for me, so fucking perfect.”

I’m barrelling towards the edge as he continues to pump his cock into his fist at the sight of me.

“Are you going to come for me?” His hips jerking up as he strokes his shaft, my eyes rolling back in pleasure.

“Yes…yes,” I moan. “Byzantine, I…I’m…”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, my orgasm rips through me and I implode. I push my fingers even deeper trying to chase the feeling while I cry out.

I hear Byzantine’s low groan and my eyes fall back to him just in time to watch his cock twitch and spill out onto his hand. His eyes squeeze shut and then quickly open again, his breaths heavy and ragged as he slows down giving his cock quick jerks, chasing his own release.

Finally, our gazes lock. Enraptured.

A loaded silence fills the room as a residual tremor of pleasure wracks my body. I continue to watch him from across the office, both speechless and breathless.

Finally, a slow pleased smile appears on Byzantine’s face and without breaking eye contact he reaches for a tissue, wipes his hands clean, shoves himself back into his jeans and stands up.

“Come, I’ll drive you home.”

Chapter 27

Sunny

IfIwouldletmy wet tongue slip out of my mouth and taste the air right now, I’m sure I would get zapped by all the electricity crackling in the air between Byzantine and I.

Shockingly, we’re both as closed off as ever as I sit in the passenger seat of his car, the music filling the void we can never seem to fill with our own voices. Byzantine seems to only be vocal when his voice is hurtling me over the edge.

I mean, I’m not complaining, I guess.

Still doesn’t change the fact that we’ve been avoiding the subject of our kiss and the one time I tried to bring it up he made me come instead.

Now I can’t help but wonder if the kiss was just that—a kiss. Was it really that big of a deal? Did I imagine everything else besides the kiss? The way he stroked my hair and murmured soothing words into my hair. The way it felt like free falling. And not the good kind of free fall. More like the kind where you know you’re about to die as soon as you hit the ground.

So…kissing Byzantine felt like dying? That’s pretty macabre.

I shuffle in my seat, looking out the window with a sigh. It’s late—or early—depending on how you see it. We’re on the precipice of dawn, not quite but you can still feel it in the air with the birds chirping the upcoming sunrise. I should be rather relaxed after what happened in the office, but my brain is rattling off every worry I’ve ever conjured up at a neck breaking speed.

What if? What if? What if?

But then, Byzantine turns left on Billow street and my head pops up.

“My apartment is the other way,” I say.

“I know,” he replies as he shifts gears.

Annoyed, I glower at him.

“Let me guess, you aren’t going to tell me where we’re heading?” I ask.

Byzantine smiles while keeping his eyes on the road.

“What's the fun in that?” he answers, amusement lacing his tone.

I’m too tired to argue so I just settle back against the window in a huff. After longer than expected, having driven outside the city, he finally parks—a large field of wildflowers sprawling in front of us. He kills the engine and leans back into the seat, his hands laced together across his chest, looking straight ahead seemingly unbothered.

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