A Not So Meet Cute(77)

“I wouldn’t touch myself because the only way I’d want to come is inside of you.” And then his mouth descends on my clit and my back arches, the tie of my robe dangerously close to coming undone from my abrupt movement.

“Oh God, Huxley . . . yes.”

His tongue moves over my clit, circling it, applying just enough pressure to drive me mad.

“You taste like goddamn honey.” He sucks my clit into his mouth, pulling, teasing, making every bone in my body feel like mush.

“Jesus.” Before I can catch my breath, he slips two fingers inside of me. “Fuck,” I yell, hoping Reign was the last person to leave tonight. Knowing Huxley, he wouldn’t be doing this if someone else was in the house.

Simultaneously, he curls his fingers up inside of me, hitting a spot that makes my vision go black as his tongue rotates over and over my sensitive nub.

There’s rhythm to his movements, a precise synchronization that’s building my orgasm fast and hard.

My legs go numb, and my shaky arms can barely support my weight. Huxley notices and gently pushes me back with his hand until I’m lying down, my pussy at the edge of the table, right in front of his face. And he takes advantage of the position, because he spreads my legs even farther, holds them both in place, and then his mouth laps me up.

Over and over and over.

He takes no breath in between.

He doesn’t attempt to kiss me anywhere else.

Instead, he’s focused on my clit and my clit alone.

It’s my undoing.

The pressure builds at the base of my spine, delicious, swirling pleasure. My vision fades to black, forcing me to shut my eyes and feel what this conceited yet commanding man does to my body. I’m swept away, brought into another world where I can’t feel anything but the distinct pleasure of Huxley between my legs.

“God, yes, Hux. Please don’t stop. Please.”

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t even falter.

Instead, he adds more pressure to my clit before moving his hands to my inner thighs, where he spreads my lips with his thumbs, granting him undisturbed access.

And in this position, he takes advantage.

His tongue swirls.

“Fuck, yes,” I yell, my arm going over my eyes.

His tongue pulses.

“Oh my God.” I grip my hair.

His lips suck.

“Holy fuck, yes, Huxley, yes.”

The pressure builds and builds and builds until . . .

“I’m coming. Oh, fuck, Huxley, I’m coming.”

My body spasms, my clit pulses in his mouth, and my scream of ecstasy bounces off the pristine, white dining room walls as I ride out my orgasm on his tongue.

Delicious. Addicting. Life-altering pleasure.

Feeling out the rest of my orgasm, my hips pulse under him and I slowly come back down to earth as I catch my breath.

“Jesus,” I say, my voice hoarse.

Huxley places one last kiss on my pussy and then sits up in his chair. He takes my hand in his and gently helps me up so I’m sitting in front of him. He adjusts my robe over my legs and says, “Let that consume you tonight, and nothing else.”

With that, he stands from the table and attempts to step to the side, as if he’s leaving. I grab his hand quickly and ask, “Where are you going?”

“I had my dinner.” His alluring eyes pin me. “Now it’s time for bed.”

Eyes trained on mine, he brings my hand to his mouth, places a soft kiss on my knuckles, and then breaks our connection as he backs away. Before he turns and retreats from the dining room, I spy his hard erection, pressing and aching against the zipper of his dress pants.

God, he’s so hot, so tempting.

I want his dick in my mouth.

That’s my initial thought, and then the desire to have him in my mouth grows immensely larger with every breath I take. Should I chase after him? What would I do if I did? Hell, I think we all know what I would do. Pull his pants down and suck him off. I’d revel in the act of having his heavy cock in my mouth.

But if I know one thing about Huxley, it’s if he wanted his cock in my mouth, he would’ve asked for it. That’s the type of man he is.

And from his quick retreat? He doesn’t want it from me.

Yet.





Chapter Fifteen





HUXLEY





I can still taste her on my tongue.

I can still feel the beat of her clit pulsing with pleasure.

I can still hear her cries of ecstasy as she came all over my face.

And, fuck, I can’t think of anything else.

This is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved. Why I knew crossing that line with her would be a bad idea, because she’s too consuming. Because she’s the type of woman you don’t have one taste of and say take care.

No, she leaves a lasting impression. An imprint. She doesn’t fade away.

I find myself checking the clock, seeing what time it is, counting down the goddamn minutes until she texts me a question, waiting desperately to see her today for the meeting with her sister.

And all it took was one goddamn taste. Now I’m a fucking mess.

I want her.

I didn’t see her this morning. I snuck out early with my gym bag, came to the office, got a workout in, and showered here, too worried that if I did see her, I’d bury myself between her legs again, searching out her sweet taste, wanting to hear her cry out my name again.