Never Say Forever

“I wasn’t talking about your panties.” He smirks as he cups the back of my ankle, sliding off my shoe. One shoe, then the other; he moves them to the side, his hand sliding under my knee.

“What are you doing?” My body stiffens, yet I still allow him to lift my leg over the arm of the chair.

“Relax, beautiful. I just want you to watch.”

“Sounds . . .” Uncomfortable. And disconcerting. My gaze dips as heat floods my cheeks, yet as I notice the hard outline of him in his pants, I suddenly don’t feel quite the same.

“Don’t worry,” he replies with a wink, “it only seems kinky the first time.”

I suddenly get a glimpse of the Carson I haven’t seen this evening; a teasing smile, those laughter lines bracketing the lushness of his lips. The Carson who is the bane of my existence, or at least the one I tell myself is. But the glimpse is fleeting as he pushes a finger inside me. I’m so wet. We both hear it, and both feel the evidence of it. And we both watch as he brings his thumb over my clit. Tension melts from my body. Then in one fluid movement, he stands, and I’m back to staring at the outline of his cock again.

He reaches for his fly, long fingers opening his belt before flicking the button open. He loosens three shirt buttons before abandoning the effort and pulling it over his head. As he surrenders it to the floor, a frisson of delight rolls from my head to my toes.

“Do you think about that night?”

I consider lying, though decide we both deserve better, answering with a quiet, “Yes.”

“I think about how long it’s been since I was inside you. How I’ve longed for it since.” Before I can suggest right now, right here, works for me, he’s behind me again, his hands tipping my gaze to the mirror.

“Look at yourself.” I glance at the woman in the mirror, her hair wild and her eyes dark. “Did you really think I wouldn’t crave your taste again?” My insides pulse emptily as he palms the bulge in his pants. I’m wet with impatience, and his cock is hard with anticipation. “Look at what you’ve done to me. If you were mine, I’d bury myself in your pussy and never come out.”

His body snakes around mine as he sinks to his knees in front, his body bowing as his mouth meets my flesh in a kiss. I try to absorb the sensation, the soft press of his lips as my eyes flutter closed, my hands gripping his thick hair as though to keep him there.

Just there.

His touch is everything. Everything I remember, and everything I’ve missed.

“You’re not watching,” he draws back just enough to say, his expression not completely serious.

“Stop talking,” I think I say. It’s hard to tell as his tongue leisurely swipes my clit, and my body arches from the chair.

“The lesson is to look at yourself.” His gaze flicks up my body, his dark look inciting. “I want you to see what I see. Why it takes all of my willpower not to kiss you whenever I’m near you.”

A thrill washes through me. Can he really feel like this?

“I think you’ll find that is my job.” He reaches up, his thumb freeing my bottom lip from my teeth. And then his head bows as he returns to his task. Or not quite as I squirm at the teasing bite he presses to my thigh. “Still not watching.” His tongue soothes the tiny sting, though he doesn’t lift his gaze. Instead, he reaches down to grab my ankle, hooking my other leg over the arm of the chair, pressing a velvety groan into the very centre of me.

Oh, God. How can I be expected to watch myself in the mirror, to concentrate on anything but this bliss? His tongue swipes, and I think I might levitate, just a little, my hands rising to the back of the chair, my taut sigh a lament. A lament for what could have been in the kitchen or on the sofa. What could’ve been so many times if we’d only exchanged names five years ago. Five years yet I remember the way he’d loved my body as if it were only yesterday.

His mouth is sublime, his tongue driving me to the brink of ecstasy, the slick sounds of our coupling echoing through the space.

“Please.” My hands grip the back of the chair as I cry out and catch a glimpse of myself. My head thrown back, my eyes are wide, my mouth a rictus of pleasure, the man between my legs a supplicant drawn from my filthiest imaginings.

The sight of us. The way he works me and . . .

“Oh, God. I think . . .” Already, my insides begin to pulse and twist.