Page 4 of Choosing Stella

I lowered myself onto his cock.

The stretch pulled a moan out of me. I planted my palms against his chest and moved, slow at first, then harder when the pressure sharpened into what I wanted.

Antonio’s hands stayed where I’d put them until I nodded.

Then they closed around my hips.

I rode him until sweat cooled along my spine and my thighs started to burn. He sat up, mouth at my breast, and I changed the angle until the friction hit my clit with every downward stroke.

“Right there.”

Antonio held me tighter.

I came hard enough to lose the rhythm for several seconds.

He didn’t.

By the time I could move properly again, he was close. I leaned down, kissed him once, and gave him the pace he wanted until his grip tightened and he groaned my name against my shoulder.

Then it was done.

Antonio dropped back against the pillows.

“You’re going to kill me one of these days.”

I slid off him and reached for the water.

“Don’t put that in a review. Locke hates dramatic feedback.”

Antonio laughed while I handed him the glass.

“I thought Mr. Stonebridge appreciated honesty.”

“He appreciates clients who understand the difference between honesty and making his blood pressure worse.”

“I’ve never met a man less impressed by money.”

“That’s probably why people with money trust him.”

I poured a second glass for myself.

My reflection appeared in the dark window beyond the bed. My raven-black bob framed my pale face, blunt bangs slightly crooked from Antonio’s hands, with the natural white streak bright near my temple. My dark eye makeup had survived better than expected.

My lipstick hadn’t survived at all.

Antonio sat up and disposed of the condom before reaching for his trousers.

“You still have another hour.”

“I know.”

“I assume you brought the cards.”

I stopped with the glass halfway to my mouth.

I lowered it.

“You were serious about the reading?”