My eyes remained open, my lips still.
She rested them together for a long time before she pulled away slightly. But she tried again, tucking her bottom lip between mine, exhaling a quiet breath filled with longing. Her nails dug into me deeper, just the way they did against my back.
My mouth remained lifeless.
She lifted her eyes and looked at me, her lips just a hair away from mine. “Je t’aime…”
Against my will, I inhaled a deep breath.
She moved into me once more, her hand cupping my neck, and she pressed a harder kiss to my mouth.
My eyes closed, and my mouth moved with hers, fire between our lips. My mouth took hers slowly, tasting the rain off her rose petals, inhaling her scent for the first time. My tongue reached for hers, and they met in a beautiful dance we’d shared a thousand times. It felt the same as it always had. Passion. Desire. Heat.
She pulled her lips away and looked at me, her nails slowly releasing my flesh. Her blue eyes showed everything that I’d just felt, that the heat burned her insides too. Her mouth moved farther away as she took a knee in front of me.
Another breath of air was sucked into my lungs automatically. My hands tightened into fists. My dick throbbed in my sweats because he wanted to feel the lips I’d just kissed.
She got to both knees on the rug then hooked her fingers to the insides of my bottoms and slowly dragged them down, letting my cock come free.
My face might be stoic, but my dick gave me away.
Thick. Hard. Long. Drooling at the tip.
She dragged my bottoms to my ankles then gripped the outsides of my thighs as she brought her mouth to my head. Her slightly parted lips pressed a kiss to the tip, a little tongue swiping over the drool.
I sucked in another breath because…fuck.
If I could have any woman in the world on her knees, it would be her.
Always.
Her mouth moved to my base, and she stuck her tongue against the bulging vein that rivaled the ones in my arms and neck, and slowly, she dragged it up, closer to the tip, taking her time.
I stopped breathing.
She made it back to my tip and gave it another swipe of her tongue. With her eyes on mine, she whispered, “Je t’aime…” Her mouth opened wide, her tongue flattened, and she slowly pushed her throat over my dick, taking her time, eyes on me.
I shut my eyes and let out an unstoppable moan. My dick slid across that wet tongue and deeper into her throat, saliva immediately spilling from the corners of her mouth and dripping to the rug below. My hand slipped into her hair, and I started to move with her, eyes on her, her eyes on me.
Nine
The Most Beautiful Woman
Melanie
When I went downstairs, his office doors were open.
I stepped inside and saw him sitting behind the large desk, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in French. “Magnus a essayé de lui parler?” He listened to the voice on the other line before he said, “Bien,” and hung up.
My French was a little better, so I translated that to, Magnus talk to her? It took me a few seconds to figure out the subject of their conversations. Her was definitely Raven, and Magnus was clearly staying away from her.
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to save her.
When Fender realized I’d joined him, he stared at me from his seat behind his desk, his gaze always hostile.
Things were getting better, but at a snail’s pace.
I held up my book then moved to the couch, hoping he would allow me to sit there quietly and read.
His eyes followed me, but he never issued a protest.
I sat down in my old spot near the fire and flipped through the pages until I found my spot.
He walked over a moment later. His large body lowered to the couch across from me, his stomach chiseled even in a seated position. Winter, spring, or summer, he was dressed exactly the same, choosing to wear as little clothing as possible.
I looked up, expecting him to say something.
“I’m leaving in a few minutes.” He leaned back into the couch with his fingers interlocked behind his head. Knees apart. His chiseled thighs stretching the cotton of his sweats. His enormous size dwarfing the couch that supported him. He was like a Clydesdale.
“Oh…” My hands moved to shut my book.
“Wait.” He leaned forward and ripped off a pink rose petal from a flower in the vase on the coffee table then extended his outstretched hand to me.
I hesitated before I gave him the book.
He inserted the rose petal between the pages, the pink color sticking out at the top, then closed it. He left it on the table then leaned back into the couch once again, one arm resting over the top of the couch, the other on his thigh.