Window Shopping(44)

There’s a good chance I’m just overthinking this, right?

Yeah. Yeah, I just need a minute.

But she doesn’t have a minute. Her beautiful body is writhing beneath mine, she’s naked from the waist down—wet, so tight and wet—and before I register my own movements, I’m stripping her completely. I’m throwing her dress onto the floor and indulging myself in the sight of her bare skin, her dusky tipped tits, the swells of her hips and dips of her sides. Incredible, perfect girl. Stella. And she’s shaking with the need for relief.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Open your thighs wider for me.” I’m slurring, drunk with lust. My voice unrecognizable. But she hears me and does as I ask, as I beg, dropping her knees wider by another inch as I skate my tongue down the center of her torso, over her belly, parting the flesh of her pussy in a hungry lick. And my God. Her taste is nothing short of incredible. Peachy and female. For me. “Goddamn, Stella. If tight had a taste, this would be it.”

If possible, when she moans at my honest praise, her thighs flex violently and fall open even wider, her fingers tunneling into my hair. And this? I can do. I can fuck her with my mouth, because it’s about her pleasure, not mine. Fine, I’m letting myself get away with a technicality, but there isn’t a way in hell I can keep my tongue off of her wet, willing pussy when she needs an orgasm so bad. Regret wouldn’t even begin to cover how that would leave me, because she’d be unsatisfied and all I want to do is satisfy her.

To that end, I watch the planes of her nude body shift and undulate while I tap the tip of my tongue against her clit, push two fingers inside of her and start to lick that bundle of nerves in earnest. Eager, fast, thorough. I pump my fingers deep, quickening the pace along with her breaths, reading her, watching. Waiting. When her grip tightens on the strands of my hair, I purse my lips over her clit and apply gentle suction. In contrast, my fingers are twisting, searching for that spot and finding it. The proof is in the way she begins to speak in gibberish, her heels finding purchase on my shoulders.

“Aiden. Oh…oh God, Aiden. Please don’t stop. Don’t, don’t, don’t…”

I growl into the suction to let her know there’s no way in hell I’ll stop when she’s shaking like this. When her stomach is hollowing out and her nipples are in hot, little points and her sex is beginning to ripple around my fingers. Go on, sweetheart. Give it to me.

I’ve never heard a purer sound in my life than Stella’s scream of my name.

Never felt anything better than the twist of her fists in my hair. Her thighs draw up around my head, hips jerking, her relief wet and warm against my tongue and lips. Desperate to give her more, give myself more, I continue to stroke that place inside of her, teasing the pad of my finger over the coarseness and Stella gives and gives, body straining until she grows limp on the bed in front of me, the taste of her pleasure making me dizzy.

So hard I almost can’t stand it.

I lever myself up onto an elbow and memorize the sight of her flushed body, the vulnerability she’s allowing herself with me. To be naked and needy, so honest with her reactions. Like she trusts me.

Trusts me.

Those words are ringing in my head when Stella sits up, gorgeous and seductive with her lids at half mast, so beautiful she makes it hard for me to breathe, and takes hold of my open shirt, tugging me closer. Promises in her eyes. “I want to give now, Aiden. Give you what you need.” She looks down at my lap and releases a rocky exhale. “Please.”

One move. One move and I’d be on top of her. I wouldn’t think of anything but her tight heat around my cock, wouldn’t feel an ounce of this conflict or guilt over being her boss. Over our relationship beginning with me giving her a chance to shine as a window dresser. But I’d hate myself afterward for leaving those unknowns between us. And God, the trust in her eyes—that seals the deal. I can’t do this.

“I’m sorry,” I say thickly, grasping her wrists until they let go of my shirt. “I can’t, Stella. God, I want to so bad, but I can’t.”

My dick hates me. When I climb off the bed and zip up my erection with a wince, I’m pretty sure he adds “new owner” to his Christmas list. But that disgust is nothing compared to how much I loathe myself as I stumble toward the door of her bedroom. Have to go now. I don’t trust myself to maintain this resolve for much longer, especially if I see the disappointment transform her face.

“I don’t know, Stella.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I guess I am too nice for you, huh?”

Turning away from her stunned expression, I walk out of the apartment, then the building, the cold air practically hissing as it meets my fevered skin. But later…later I’ve never been colder in my life, because I’m pretty sure I’ve just blown it with the girl I’ve fallen for.





11





Stella





It’s Saturday morning. My first official day as an employee of Vivant.

Until now, I’m not really sure it has sunk in. I was given this crazy, once-in-a-lifetime chance—and somehow I delivered. I met expectations. Possible even exceeded them. Enough to be hired full time. Is this the point where I call my parents? Would they be proud of what I’ve accomplished in a short span of time? Or should I wait until I’ve managed to hold down the job a little longer before I attempt communication?