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“How many made you moan their names? How many made you beg for it?” he continues, ignoring my protest.
None. Not a single one. Ever.
“How many do you think about when you touch yourself? How many are you dying to have again?” His expression is knowing—and I hate that. This man is an abject stranger, but somehow he manages to push my buttons.
Gus rises and strides elegantly until he’s standing in front of me. He raises his hand slowly and cups my chin in his big palm.
“How many do you picture when you fuck other men?” he continues, his gaze now heated to a thousand degrees.
None.
Gus shifts his hand so his thumb rubs along my lower lip. He’s not entirely gentle either. He pushes on it hard, smearing my lipstick in the process.
“How many have you thought about since the night you met me?” He presses his thumb between my lips now.
I loathe myself for sucking on the tip of his thumb, for groaning when he pushes it on my tongue. I can’t resist though. I can’t think clearly when the pad of his thumb scrapes my teeth and then swoops down to trace the inside of my lower lip. The exploration is slight and yet invasive at the same time. My lips are open for him—and he barely had to lift a finger to make it happen.
“After we fuck,” he goes on, speaking slowly without letting his focus on my mouth waver, “I’m going to be the only honest answer to any of those questions. ‘Just you,’ is what you’ll say to me. ‘Just you, Gus.’”
A million snarky responses yearn to pass through my lips, but I can’t string any together. I’m too tipsy. I’m too off-kilter. I’m too caught up in his proximity, his voice, his taste.
My silence pays off, however, when Gus gives in. Roughly, he tugs his thumb from my mouth and clasps my jaw hard, holding me by my chin. Gripping it. Handling me.
Then finally, like he can’t hold back any longer, he kisses me.
Chapter 6: Gus
I’ve never tasted anything so delicious in my life. Julia is decadence embodied. She moans when my lips part hers, giving me passage into her sweet mouth. She fucking moans. I’ve never heard a more exquisite sound than the mewl of pleasure that escapes her. It’s melodic. Needy.
It’s exactly what I’ve yearned to hear all these nights.
I sink into the plush cushion next to her, keeping my lips tied to hers the entire time. The heavy sigh she releases is confirmation that my efforts are appreciated. She leans into me, taking advantage of the angle to suck on the tip of my tongue, probing and exploratory.
I’m many things, but I’m not a patient man. I’m not a nice one either. And yet I waited months for this moment—months to make this woman fall apart with pleasure. Normally during my first time with a new partner, I pace. I figure out her limits and her wants.
Tonight? No chance.
Tonight, Julia is going to get fucked whatever way I see fit.
Tonight, she sauntered into my penthouse wearing this tease of a black dress that does wondrous things to an already wondrous body. It leaves nothing to the imagination: a clear view of the round curve of her ample breasts, the slender arc of her waist, and the glorious slope of a near-perfect ass. Near-perfect? Yes—because it would look a hell of a lot prettier with my hands gripping it. Or my mouth licking it. Or my cock inside of it.
Imagining unfettered access to every inch of her shapely body strikes regret deep in my chest. One night won’t be enough. Already, I know I won’t have time to do every messed-up thing I want to her. Her hands roaming nonstop over my body don’t help the situation. She paws at me greedily. Such a spoiled brat. So used to getting everything she wants.
While I plan my next move, I toy with the hem of her minuscule dress, inching the silk up her lush thighs with my palm. One thing I know: I’ll grip these thighs tonight. I intend to clutch them as roughly as she’ll let me. Redden them. Bruise them, maybe—if she likes that. Something tells me this mouthy hellion absolutely would. After all, she had no qualms when I put my fingers in her mouth just now—when I tugged down her lower lip so I could see her pretty pink tongue—the very tongue I’m sucking on at the moment.
My hands weave around her little waist and tug her into my lap so she straddles my thighs and faces me.
A smile? She’s killing me.
Her lower lip fixes in her teeth and she loops her arms around my neck. Her desperate, lithe body melds to mine, growing more pliant with each passing second.
For four months, I’ve wanted her. Craved her. This. Touching her. Debasing her. Hell, defiling her. She really is the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I brim with smug satisfaction.
I get everything I want. Everything.
Julia is dying for it, even if she refuses to admit it. Pink flushes over her skin and she takes up a quick, but almost undetectable grind against me. Her hands roam over my shoulders and my arms, tracing my muscles and drawing me closer to her. When her soft lips touch my neck in frantic, messy kisses, I can’t do anything but groan. She’s greedy and unabashed. She takes what she wants.
It’s perfect.
