Page 132 of Lennox Lane

Lane’s lower lip trembled once as he kissed it. He couldn’t help himself when it came to touching her, and he wouldn’t if he could. Her arms came around him again, her body flush against him, making blood rush to his dick. He walked her backward, Lane trusting each step even though she couldn’t see where he was taking her. When the backs of her legs met the edge of the sofa, she lowered onto it, pulling him with her.

Lennox braced one hand beside her hip, leaning over her without covering her completely. “Still green?”

Her smile was soft and wicked. “Very green.”

“Good.”

“You planning to keep asking?” She asked Lennox.

“Every time I need to.”

Her expression flickered with wonder and surrender. “Good Robot,” she whispered.

He laughed against her mouth. “Keep praising me and see what happens.”

“I’m counting on it,” she flirted.

Lane’s hands went around his neck, tugging him back down. He went willingly because there was no version of himself strong enough to resist her when she asked without fear. Lane’s kiss had done more than set the mood; it had rewritten the night. Lennox had thought he was bringing her into softness; what he hadn’t realized was that she was bringing him with her.

As they kissed, deeply with an openness that said she was unguarded. He understood that what happened next wouldn’t be about the flowers, the wine, the city, or the careful planning he’d built around her. It would be about trust that he’d earned from Lane. Softness that no longer felt like a place they visited but a place they called home. Lennox broke the kiss first, but not to stop—to change the angle of approach. He stood, and Lane looked up at him with those dark, wondering eyes. Her lips parted, and her chest rose—looking sinfully delicious.

“Up,” he said, his voice rougher than intended.

Lane blinked. “Up?”

“Need you higher, baby.”

Understanding flickered across her face, followed by a hunger that matched his. She lifted her arms without question, trusting him to bridge the gap. Lennox bent to gather her up—one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back, moving her like she weighed nothing as her soft curves melted into his hands, waiting for what’s next.

He carried her past the flowers, still breathing their scent into the room, past the wine that would wait for them until later or maybe morning. The windows rose before them, floor-to-ceiling glass where Lennox set her down only long enough to lift her, causing her to gasp as he hoisted her onto his shoulders, letting her back press against the cool glass. Her thighs bracketing his head. She reached up, finding the window frame above and looked down at him with shock and arousal warring in her expression.

“Lennox—”

“Hold on, Mama.”

He didn’t give her time to argue or retreat from this moment. He pulled her hips forward, spread her open with his thumbs, and licked her wet clit. The sound she made was inhumane. A cry that started in her gut and tore through the suite, raw and desperate. Lennox groaned against her wetness, tasting how ready she was. Basking in the way the evening had wound her so tight that the slightest touch of his tongue on her clit made her body jerk. She was soaked and swollen— utter perfection, and he feasted on her like a starving man who’d finally been invited to the table.

“Oh god—oh fuck—Lennox⁠—”

She was crying out his praises. His name. Broken syllables that dissolved into moans as he worked her with his tongue. The glass behind her fogged with her breath and body heat. The city sprawled beneath them, oblivious to the woman falling apart against its skyline. Lennox didn’t close the curtains because he wanted her to feel infinite. Wanted her to know that this pleasure, this moment, belonged to her and her alone.

Lane ground against his face until she was losing her rhythm and losing her mind and chasing her release with her hips rolling in desperate circles. She was being a nasty bitch for him. Taking what she needed and the thought made his dick ache against his robe so badly he had to adjust with one hand while the other came up to grip her ass.

He smacked it.

The sound cracked through the room. It was sharp and filthy. It made Lane cry out as her whole body was jerking.

“Use me,” Lennox growled against her, his voice vibrating against her clit. “Treat me like a fucking toy, Lane. Take your pleasure from me. Take it.”

She sobbed, her fingers white-knuckled on the window frame, and did exactly as she was told.

Lane rode his face with abandon, grinding down. Her thighs trembling around his ears. Her wetness coating his chin, his mouth, everything. She was beautiful like this—unguarded, greedy, and powerful in her need. Lennox held her steady, letting his tongue explore her folds. His tongue found its way inside her and stroked her mercilessly, driving her higher. He felt the moment she crested, when her whole body went rigid against the glass.

“Lennox—Lennox—I’m gonna⁠—”

“Gush for me,” he commanded. “Let me taste it. Give it to me.”

She broke.