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Half an hour passes. I want her to give in.
She won’t.
I wait another five minutes before my own willpower finally crumbles. When I return, she’s seething. To my alarm, her wrists are red and angry, swollen where she tugged on the belts. It takes everything I have not to climb over her and tenderly kiss each of the marks…
No. Don’t give in.
Instead, I sip from my glass, watching her.
“You got a drink?” she demands when she notices me in the doorway.
“It’s a normal afternoon for me. I’m not going to change my routine simply because I’ve got a sex-crazed hellion tied up in my bedroom.”
Julia kicks out at me in an exercise in futility. “How dare you leave me up here.”
“If you hated it so much, you should have used your safe word.”
“Fuck off.”
“What’s the capital of France, love?”
She narrows her eyes, trying so hard to burn a hole right through my chest. “It’s your limp dick.”
Cute. “And where would I go to see the Mona Lisa?”
“I heard she’s up your entitled, arrogant ass, August.”
“And where would I take you on our first date if you got over yourself and admitted you want to keep screwing me after this week?”
Suddenly, she stops thrashing. She stares at me unblinking, her jaw lowered a fraction. “What about CDMX?”
It’s my turn to freeze now. In retrospect, it was such a dumb question. It was too heavy and too open to interpretation—no right or wrong answer. But the way she calmed down…is she saying…
“Fuck me,” she requests, breaking the silence. “August, fuck me.”
It’s a figurative snap of her fingers. It’s a hand waving in front of my face. It’s a strict order to get a hold of myself and get us both on track. Nothing else. Nothing else. Just fucking.
Still holding my glass, I get on the bed and fit myself between her feet. “Spread your legs.”
“Suck your own dick,” she shoots back.
I chuckle. “Spread. Your. Legs.” I repeat. “We both know you’re dying to do it. That you’ve never hesitated to open that pussy for me.” I run a hand over her flat stomach, enjoying the way she shudders with relief under my touch. “Save us both the time and spread your fucking legs, Julia.”
She does it. She parts her thighs, showing me her wet cunt. Her plump folds glisten and her arousal strikes me in all the right places.
Locking my eyes on hers—making damn sure she’s watching—I hold my glass high above the bed and pour my wine right onto her pussy.
Wine splashes onto both of us. I’m ruining the bedspread. I’m ruining the sheets. Hell, I’m ruining a forty-thousand-dollar mattress that had never been used until she visited. I don’t care.
Julia gasps at the sensation—at the filthiness of it all.
Deep purplish red covers her, spreading across her skin so nicely. The stark contrast makes her look like a work of art. Her body is decadent like this. I dip down, burying my face in her pussy. The taste of wine and her juices flood my tongue—but I want more.
I lick her from clit to entrance before shifting dangerously close to her asshole. Frankly, I’d love to lick it, but I need to stay focused. I’ve already touched on too many taboos and an inexperienced man plays all his cards at once. Tonight, I only want to focus on her pussy.
I suck harder, wrapping my lips around her clit and going straight for her pleasure center. I’ve tortured her enough; I’ve tortured both of us enough. But I want her good and ready if this is the last time we ever play.
“Please,” she murmurs, saying the word with sincerity for the first time since I met her. “Please, August. I want your cock in me.”
