Haze (The Fosters of New York 2) - Page 48

"Are you on birth control?" His voice is deep, it's so deep.

I look to my left at the windows that overlook Central Park. I know no one can see us up here but I feel exposed, and the question isn't helping.

"I take the pill," I confess. "I have for years. Why?"

"I'd like to fuck you without a condom." He reaches into the pocket of the pants he's still wearing to pull out a foil package. "Tonight we'll use this but if you've been tested and you're clean, I'd rather not use these again."

"Haze."

His lips part into a sly smile. "What's the problem, Isla?"

"You're like crazy hot." I dip my chin towards his chiseled abs. "You must get a lot of action. I'd rather use a condom."

"I don't get as much action as you'd think." He presses his lips to my temple. "I'm tested monthly and I'm clean."

I move my head in an effort to capture his lips with mine but he pulls back. "I want you to use a condom tonight and tomorrow if you fuck me then and even a month from now if you're still fucking me."

"I have stamina, Isla." He traces his index finger over my left nipple. "Don't mistake me for a machine though. I can't fuck you for an entire month. I'll need some breaks for sustenance and sleep."

I like this side of him. It's the side that isn't confined to a tailored suit and stuck in an office in a high rise tower. "We'll negotiate, Mr. Foster."

"Perhaps," he says as he leans forward, his left hand gripping the headboard. "Tonight you'll listen to me, yes?"

"Yes."

He brushes his fingertips over my brow as he looks into my eyes. "You have the most beautiful lips I've ever seen. I've been aching to have them wrapped around my cock."

My tongue juts out at the mention of that. "Please, now?"

I watch in silence as his hands push his pants down, followed by his boxer briefs. Seeing him like this, with nothing on, in the dimmed light of this room, puts every other man I've ever been with to shame. His cock is perfect, thick and long.

 

; His fingers glide over the entire length, stopping to cup his balls briefly before he slides himself onto the bed. He kisses me deeply before he straddles my chest.

"Haze if it's too much, Isla. Haze."

I moan the moment the plush head of his dick touches my bottom lip and as he slides it into my mouth and across my tongue, I watch as his head falls back and his eyes close.

His breath hisses out as I raise my head to take more and when his hands bolt to my hair to sync me with the rhythm of his thrusts, I groan around the thickness. The taste of him and the sound of his voice urging me to take it all makes me wet, so wet that all I want is to reach down and finger my clit so I can come.

"Fuck." He pushes the word out in a low rough moan as he pumps harder, faster and deeper until I feel and taste the flood of his release as he holds my head in place so I can take it all.

***

I look up and right at him as he walks back into the bedroom, a pair of sweatpants are the only thing he's wearing.

He'd slid down my body after he came in my mouth. I'd whimpered at the lost touch of his cock but he sensed my need to come too.

It took not more than a few minutes of his fingers touching my clit before I bucked my hips off the bed when I fell over the edge into an intense orgasm. His mouth found mine right then and as I moaned into his lips, he moved his fingers again, this time sliding two inside me, coaxing yet another climax from me.

He'd held me tightly against him then, our nude bodies pressed into one another while his lips rested on my shoulder. I'd tugged lightly on the handcuffs and without a word, he'd moved quickly to unlock them, taking the time to kiss my hands and both of my wrists.

I sat quietly as he reached for his phone to call Charles. He asked him to bring up my phone and while he tugged the sweatpants into place, I stared out at the city. Millions of people live here, each with their own unique story and yet mine is woven into Gabriel Foster's. It makes little sense but maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe this is just about enjoying these moments for what they are.

"Check your messages, Isla," he says as he hands me my phone. "The conversation you had with Garrett on the phone sounded important."

I nod as I skim my finger over the screen to open my email app. I find his message immediately and as soon as I open it, my eyes scan the text. I pop open the document, reading it each line with care.

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Fosters of New York Romance
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