Those pretty red lips stretching to take me.
Her fingers around my cock.
Her teal hair in my hands.
“Tongue flat under me.” I tug hard enough she groans against my cock.
The vibration is divine. And the sound of Eve—
I’m too far gone.
Way too fucking far.
I hold her head in place with one hand. Bring the other to her chest. Toy with her nipple as I push into her.
Slowly at first.
Those red lips stretch as she takes me.
Deeper.
Deep enough to push her.
I pull back and do it again.
Still slow. But faster. Still soft. But harder.
Then again.
Again.
Deeper.
Deep enough she coughs. Jerks away. Falls back and wipes her lips. “That’s a little—”
“I won’t go so hard.”
“I want you to. I just—”
“We can work up to that, vixen.”
She blushes. Again. It’s absurd. And sexy as sin.
“Try to relax your throat.”
“How?”
“Swallow.”
She tries it. Pushes herself upright.
Eve looks up at me as she wraps her hand around my cock. Then it’s her soft lips. Her wet tongue. All the sweet pressure of her mouth.
Her gaze shifts to the mirror.
She watches her lips stretch around me.
Watches as I push into her.
Still slowly.
Then faster. Harder.
Until I’m at the rhythm I need. Not enough to make her gag. Not enough to scare her. Only—
Fuck.
I tug at her hair. Roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
It’s almost too much, watching her red lips stretch around me, watching her teal hair fall over her cheeks, watching her pink nipple disappear between my fingers.
I hold her in place as I thrust into her.
That steady rhythm.
That perfect pressure.
Then deeper. Until I can feel the back of her throat.
She gags the first time. Then she swallows to take me.
I thrust into her again and again.
I take in the sight of her—a perfect angel, on her knees, in nothing but her fucking combat boots—then I let my eyes fall closed.
One more thrust and I pull back. I growl her name as I come, spilling onto her chest, tugging hard at her hair.
Her head falls back. A groan falls off her lips.
She looks up at me with fire in her eyes. Pride. Satisfaction.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
It’s terrifying.
I zip my trousers. Help her to her feet. Wipe her clean.
She looks up at me with all that pride. Then her eyelids flutter closed and her lips find mine.
I kiss her like I’m claiming her.
But it’s not just her body. It’s something else. Something more. Something that terrifies every molecule in my body.
Chapter Thirty
Ian
Eve rolls onto her side. She lets out a high-pitched yawn as she stretches her arms over her head.
Those grey-green eyes fix on me. Fill with that perfect curiosity. Like I’m a book she simply must understand.
Her lips curl into a smile. No dark makeup. Her eyes aren’t lined. Her lashes aren’t long. Her lips aren’t raspberry.
A soft pink that’s all her.
A soft pink the color of her cunt.
For a split second, the thought steals my attention. I consider tossing the white sheets aside. Finding a tie in the closet. Binding her to the bed and forcing her to take all the pleasure I want to give her.
Then my eyes flit to hers and I can only think one thing:
She belongs here.
In my bed.
In my flat.
In my life.
It’s ridiculous. There’s no room for anyone in my life. No matter how badly I want to cancel my meeting and cook her breakfast.
I cooked for Laura.
I don’t cook for anyone else.
“Morning.” Eve pushes herself up. She pulls the sheet with her. Holds it against her chest. Shy again.
Driving me out of my fucking mind again.
“Are you leaving?” Her eyes move over me slowly. That same care and curiosity. “I guess it’s a stupid question. Or maybe you hang out in that suit. I still haven’t seen you in casual clothes.”
“You saw me without a tie.”
“Without a shirt.”
“I can’t help that you fell asleep before me and woke up after. I was naked.”
“Were you really?” Her cheeks flush.
I shake my head. “Boxers.”
“Hmmm.” Her eyes light up with an epiphany.
Does she realize I had to wear something to keep myself from touching her? Or is there something else going on behind her gorgeous green eyes?
“I’ve never slept over before. Well, not with a guy. With my friends from high school. And the one who—” She motions to the tattoo on her forearm. “She rushes me out sometimes. Or she did. It’s been awhile.”
“You don’t see her anymore?”
“I’ve been busy. Though… I guess I could now.” Her voice shifts to a playful tone. “Or I could make an appointment for the couple’s tattoo.”
“Is that a dare, Miss Miller?”
“If it is?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“I’ll consider that.” She scoots a little taller. Pulls the sheet a little higher. “Do I need to—”
“No. Stay as long as you want. The door locks on the way out. But if you stay until I’m back from work, I’ll make it worth your while.”