“Oh?”
“With my father.” He paused, studying my reaction, and I tried hard not to throw up in my mouth. “Shortly after…” His jaw snapped shut as if he was swallowing down nausea himself. “Never mind. Point is, this is not for you to worry about. She knows it, too,” he explained, his calm and poise returning.
I licked my lips, staring at his. A few months ago, the girl who’d been with Milton would have told him she wanted everything. That she deserved it, too, and screw the empire he was trying to build on lies and revenge. But right now, standing in front of him, trying to make it in this cruel, real world, chase debt, and look after my father, something was better than nothing—especially something that came from him.
We were both drowning, and when we were together, and it felt like I was coming up for air.
“And she knows you’re not faithful?” I stressed.
“There’s nothing to be faithful to. It’s not a relationship. We live apart. We sleep apart. We live our lives—apart.”
“I’m not an exhibitionist.” My eyes traveled to the red-dotted camera above our heads.
He advanced toward me, cupping my cheek and brushing his lips against mine erotically. My stomach twisted and dropped, like I was falling.
“Neither am I.” He pulled my lower lip between his straight teeth, tugging hard before releasing it slowly, prolonging the sweet, delicious pain. “But I’m willing to make an exception to make sure the message hits home. Wrap your arms around The Warrior’s neck.”
I blinked at him, disoriented, but did as I was told, first lowering myself to sit on The Warrior’s lap. I felt the statue’s stone chest behind me as I carefully clasped my arms around his neck. From this position, it looked like he was gazing down at my rack.
Célian lowered himself to his knees and drank my little moan of excitement hungrily with another kiss, this time tonguing my mouth, fighting his way through the walls of it, and claiming every growl and moan that sat there dormant, waiting for him to unleash it.
“I’m going to wreck you,” he hissed, shoving his palm into my sweetheart neckline and cupping one of my tits. He took the nipple out and sucked it savagely before moving away and blowing cold air on it. I arched against The Warrior, feeling his cold marble toga digging into my butt. It was hotter than sin, but Jesus, it was weird.
Jesus:…
Célian’s hand found the zipper behind my back and began to roll it down, his eyes hard on mine. I whimpered at how commanding he looked when he did that. Because my dress was strapless, the minute I arched my back it slid down and pooled at my feet like a pale winter lake, with little to no effort from him.
I was completely naked, save for my soaked white cotton panties and my Chucks. He lowered himself to my nipples and began kissing and biting them, keeping me sandwiched between him and the statue and drinking his attention thirstily. Every time I tried to touch him, he plastered my hands back to the statue. I was put on a pedestal, to be seen and admired by his father.
To be devoured by Célian.
Only him.
Only ever him.
I tried to rub myself against him, but that resulted in him moving away. He continued to tongue me, all the way down to my stomach, screwing his tongue into my navel and groaning, his nose paving its way down to my panties. He used his teeth to lower my underwear to my knees and stared at me for a few seconds, burying his nose in my slit and taking a lungful of air, breathing it in.
I nearly burst out of my skin, every nerve in my body dancing to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“This pussy is mine no less than it is yours.” He kissed the slit, flicking his tongue over it and teasing my clit. “Spread them wide, Chucks.”
Chucks.
I didn’t have to be asked twice. I threw one leg over each of the statue’s thighs, spreading myself so wide my inner thighs burned. Célian licked me crack to slit before plunging deeper. Every once in a while, he brushed his thumb or forefinger against my leaking center and pressed it between my butt cheeks, wetting the area. I’d never done so with anyone else, but there was something about Célian that made me want to be a little submissive. In the newsroom, we were at war, but in private, our main battle was trying to keep our clothes on.
He teased my backside with his fingers, playing, poking, flirting while eating me out, and I exploded from within like fireworks, moaning his name so loud my ears rang. I let go of The Warrior’s neck, sliding down to the floor, my thighs still shaking from the climax ripping through me. Célian straddled me at the sculpture’s feet, still fully clothed, and unzipped his dress pants.