Page 45 of Untether

He takes a step towards me like he’s sleepwalking, hiseyes still trained on my body, his hand still palming that erection.

I hook my arm around his neck and cover his hand with mine. ‘Let me… I want to take care of you.’

That seems to jerk him out of whatever aroused stupor he’s in. ‘Nope. Not today. This was about you.’

‘Yeah. And you did a great job on that,’ I tell him. ‘And now I want to make you come.’

‘Aida.’ It sounds like he’s pleading with himself, with his self-control, more than with me. ‘Another time. You don’t need to.’

‘Cal.This isn’t about reciprocation, or manners. This is about me wanting to get my hands on that gorgeous dick of yours.’ I smooth my fingers over the hand that’s standing between me and said dick.

He makes a pained sound. ‘How do you know it’s gorgeous?’

‘Are you seriously going to tell me it isn’t?’ I bend my head and drag my lips over his beard, gratified at the shiver I feel in response.

‘Well, obviously not.’

‘I need it, Cal.’ I shimmy to one side and push off the bed, dropping straight to my oiled-up knees beside him. I can tell he’s trying to be noble. Professional, even. And it breaks my heart. Hopefully, actions will speak louder than words.

He turns so his hand-covered cock is level with my mouth and gazes down at me, conflict written all over his face.

‘Aida,’ he says through clenched teeth. ‘I’m just—it’s better if I take care of this myself.’

‘I want your dick in my mouth,’ I tell him in my most imperious newsreader voice. ‘I’m not messing aroundhere. Seriously, just fuck my mouth. Show me you want me.’

It’s always struck me that giving someone a blowjob and having them fuck your mouth are two eminently different things, the latter involving head-grabbing and thrusting, and while my experience of this more aggressive form of fellatio is limited to dark romance books with morally grey, oversexed antiheroes, I know I need it from Cal.

Because it’s been a long time since a man has looked at me like my very presence is a threat to the layers of self-control that house his inner beast, and it’s even longer since I’ve met a man so beautiful. So unashamedly sexual. And so generous with his skills.

In any case, it seems like my slutty little plea works, because he chokes out a strangledfuckand lets his hand drop, defeated, to his side.

‘You sure?’ he whispers hoarsely.

‘I’m certain,’ I whisper back, looking up at him and placing my palms flat on his thighs. His quads contract as soon as I make contact. His eyes are dark, impenetrable, their thick lashes casting a fan of shadows over each cheek as he looks down at me on my knees before him. His hand cups my jaw before sliding around to entangle its fingers in my hair.

‘Okay then,’ he manages. ‘Take it out, sweetheart.’

29

CAL

“To do aught good never will be our task, but ever to do ill our sole delight.”

—Milton,Paradise Lost

Fantasising about someone is a poor man’s game, but you never quite realise it until they’re right there in front of you.

Warm flesh and hot blood.

Wet cunt and willing mouth.

Golden limbs and chocolate eyes.

Hair to pull and tits to suck and skin to inhale.

Thisis Aida. Not the Aida of my shower fantasies, but the living, breathing woman who lets me massage every inch of her glorious body and hold her down and eat her out. Who comes like a champ on my tongue and then slides to her knees and begs me to fuck her mouth.

Begs me to show her I want her.

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