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“I think we were getting ready to eat,” she says, stepping out of reach as I try to pull her into my arms.
I can’t stop enjoying the excitement in her features as we sit at the dining table, the plates of salmon and rice before us a testament to Charles’ culinary skills. Each bite is rich with flavor, the spices perfectly balanced, but I might as well be eating dirt, because it's Isla I hunger for. My gaze lingers on the curve of her lips, the gentle tilt of her head as she takes a forkful of food, unaware of the intensity of my desire for her.
“Walker, this is delicious,” she says, a soft smile gracing her face.
“Charles is incredible at his craft.” I couldn’t agree more, though I barely taste the meal. Every cell in my body screams for a different kind of feast. One where her moans are the only sound and her body is my meal.
Dinner passes in a blur of half-eaten food and unspoken desire. She’s so soft and delicate, her cheeks pink and her eyes dancing as we discuss things neither of us care about – how the bar did in our absence, the nature of my meeting, the beauty of my home.
And as night envelops the world outside my penthouse in darkness, the real hunger within me roars to life with a newfound heat. Without another word, I stand and extend my hand to her. She places hers in mine, trust shining in her eyes, and I lead her to my bedroom.
The door clicks shut behind us, sealing us away from the world. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, anticipation painting her cheeks rosy pink. My fingers tremble slightly, betraying the extraordinary amount of self-control I’m exerting as they reach for the first button on her shirt. It parts easily under my touch, revealing the smooth skin beneath.
“Walker...” Her voice is light and shaky. “I've never done this before.”
At first, I think she means that she’s never slept with a boss, then my brain makes the leap. My hands still, and I meet her eyes, seeking the truth in them. “Never?”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide pools of honesty and a hint of fear. “I haven't done more than kiss.”
Desire wars with the need to worship her within me. I want her with an urgency that borders on primal, yet the knowledge of her innocence urges me to be cautious, to be tender, to make sure this is the experience of a lifetime for her. Leaning forward, I press my lips against hers and feel her melt into me.
“Then we'll take our time,” I whisper between kisses, feeling her respond, her body inching closer to mine.
With slow, gentle hands, I continue to undress her. Each button slips free, revealing more of her—her perfect breasts, the gentle tuck of her waist, the soft flare of her hips, the creamy skin of her thighs. The sight of her, so vulnerable and trusting, nearly undoes me.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, tracing the outline of her collarbone with my fingertips as goosebumps race across her flesh.
Her hands find mine, guiding them with silent permission to her ribs, her waist, her hips.
The room fills with the sound of our breathing, the soft rustle of clothing falling to the floor. Our hearts beat a matching rhythm, and I find myself longing for a new beginning. And as I explore the softness of her skin, I memorize every sigh, every shiver, every inch of her with my tongue, my lips, my touch.
The moment I lay her down, the world outside our embrace fades to nothing. My lips trace a fiery path from her neck, feather-light kisses down to her bellybutton, then lower, enjoying every bit of her. Each taste of her sweetness sends shivers through me as she trembles beneath my touch.
A moan escapes her lips as I part her with my tongue. Sliding from her entrance to the bundle of nerves, I feel her shiver. She comes alive under my mouth, gasps and moans leaving her with every motion of my mouth.
But I’m not in a hurry. I kiss, nibble, taste, and tease, loving her body and how responsive she is to me. Her sweet juices add to my desire, and I press my palm to my achingly hard cock as if I can ease the need to bury myself inside her.
“Please…” She breathes out, her voice a fragile thread of need as her back arches in a silent demand for more, though I doubt she knows exactly what she wants. Her fingers rake through my hair, guiding me, and I follow her lead without hesitation, loving every reaction, every hitch of her breath.
Knowing that I’m the first person to do this, to taste her, touch her, to make love to her feels like a responsibility I need to take seriously, but as every little motion and sound she makes threatens to undo me, I find myself holding on in hopes I can truly awaken her deepest desires.
Wrapping my arms under her thighs, I grip her hips, loving the way she moves, her hips tilting and moving in a way that tells me she wants me to move faster, go harder, to bring her to the heights of pleasure. And I listen. With my tongue on the most delicate part of her, I tease her body, making demands I have no right to make, but want all the same. She whimpers, her motions almost too quick, and I press her hips down, holding her captive in place. With a yelp of excitement, she doesn’t even try to struggle. Instead, she lets me hold her as her breathing increases and her back arches.
When she finally breaks, crying out softly, her body shakes with the force of release, and her hands tug my hair as if demanding I come closer. She won’t have to ask twice.
Rising above her, I shed the last barriers between us. My shirt hits the floor, followed by my pants. Her blurry gaze drinks in the sight of me—raw, unguarded, open—and I see the hunger there, wide-eyed and pure.
“Please,” she whispers, her voice laced with awe, and it's all the affirmation I need.
“Yes,” I say, my voice rough with emotion.
I kiss her again, tasting the sweetness of her lips, letting her feel the weight of my need. There's a tremor in her limbs, an enticing mix of anticipation and desire, and it spills from her in wordless whispers against my skin.
“More,” she begs, though the specifics are left unspoken.
I align myself with her, sliding up and down her slick warmth to gather up the moisture we’ll need for the next step. But my motions leave her squirming and moaning again. “You're so warm,” she murmurs as I continue trailing the tip of myself up and down her, before teasing at her entrance. She tries to pull me in, but I back up, continuing the up and down dance, swirling gently around her button before moving back as if I’ll enter her now.
I can sense her impatience growing, but her body tells me she’s ready with the rising level of moisture.
