I like this position, though. I run my hand under the slit of her dress, smoothing my palm up the length of her thigh. With the other hand, I cup her cheek and run a thumb across her plump lips.
She keeps her eyes fixed on me. This whole moment feels like a fever dream. Every sensation is heightened to the fullest and beyond.
“You dressed up for me,” I point out with a wry smirk.
“We’re pretending we’re normal, happy people tonight, right? I figured getting dressed up was more normal than coming down stark naked.”
I chuckle at the memory. “I wouldn’t have minded either way.”
She reaches up and runs her fingers through my hair slowly, brushing it away from my face and sighing softly. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Always?”
She nods. “Since the first night I met you in that restaurant. You have amazing hair.”
“Why haven’t you?”
She shrugs. “It’s too intimate, isn’t it? Too gentle. That’s never been our thing. But tonight… I’m pretending it is. Let me lie to myself.”
She leans in and places her lips over mine. The kiss is light as a feather. It makes me crave more.
The beast inside me roars for the heat of her thighs. It wants to devour her.
But I wrench him back.
Slowly. Slowly. Tonight is about moving slowly.
My hand dances higher up her smooth thighs. Her legs part in silent invitation, and I let my fingers delve deeper.
The moment I reach her heat, I raise a brow. “You skipped a few layers, kukolka.”
Willow’s eyes burn with intensity to match mine. She shrugs innocently. “Oops.”
Then she leans in again and kisses me. This kiss is soft and deliberate, but there’s a new urgency lingering underneath.
She’s holding herself back just like I am.
Slowly. Slowly.
I run my fingers up and down her slit, teasing her. I part her open gently and probe inside, massaging until she breaks away, her breathing hot and heavy against my neck.
I pull my fingers out and raise them to her lips. “Taste yourself.”
She pulls two of my fingers in her mouth and sucks on them. Her moans vibrate around my fingertips deliciously. When she lets her mouth fall open, I return back to her pussy.
This time, my fingers slide in easily. Deeper. Her spine arches and she faces the ceiling. I take the opportunity to kiss the elegant curve of her neck. When she looks back down at me, desire burns deep in her eyes.
Slowly is starting to be really fucking difficult.
With my free hand, I slide the straps off her dress off her shoulders. She’s not wearing anything underneath, so the material pools at her waist, leaving her top half deliciously naked.
I lean down and capture her nipple between my teeth. She sucks in air and stiffens while I nip at her. After a moment, I send my tongue in. All it takes is one flick before she’s moaning on my lap.
“Oh, fuck, Leo. Like that… that feels good…”
As my tongue works over one nipple and then the other, I start finger fucking her a little faster. Her body rolls against mine and her hands flutter uselessly at my shoulders.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of turning her into a whimpering puddle.
I pull my fingers out at the same time I stop sucking her nipples. “Stand,” I tell her. “And lose the dress.”
Breathlessly, she does as I say.
It’s ironic how obliging she can be when it comes to sex, but the moment I give her a command outside of it, she fights me tooth and nail. She’s a study in contradictions, this little wildcat.
She stands and shimmies her hips until the dress drops around her feet. She steps out of it and walks back in between my legs wearing nothing but heels and a silver necklace. I grab her hips and press a kiss to her toned stomach.
Then I spin her around so I’m faced with her perfect ass. I lean in and sink my teeth just enough to draw a yelp. She gives a little gasp, but I hold her in place.
When I slap her ass hard, she yelps again, but she still doesn’t pull away. Instead, she arches closer.
“I want you inside me, Leo,” she pleads. “I need to feel you inside me.”
“Then what are you waiting for, kukolka?” I ask. “Sit down.”
I unzip my pants, pull out my dock, and position myself at her entrance. She eases herself over my cock, hands on my thighs for balance, and swallows it whole.
I enter her with a satisfied sigh. Soul-deep. Bone-deep. She feels even tighter at this angle. And as she starts to bounce up and down, picking up speed as she goes, I feel my grip on the reins of my self-control getting dangerously loose.
She grabs the edge of the table and uses that to secure herself as she starts bouncing on my cock. I pull her back into my embrace, her spine against my chest, and capture her earlobe between my teeth.
“Faster,” I breathe.
She rides me like that, moaning and trying not to lose it, one hand encircled around the back of my neck as she holds on for dear life. I watch her ass bounce on my cock, committing every deep thrust to memory.
Once I notice her legs begin to shake, I stand up while still inside her and bend her over against the table. She upends half of our meal in the process, but neither one of us gives a shit at this point. Only one thing matters.
Release.
I slam my hips into her again and again. Her ass cheeks shiver with each thrust.
She grips the tablecloth in her fists. “Please, Leo…”
I wrap a hand around her waist and find her center. The moment my thumb whispers over her, she cries out. Her orgasm syncs with mine perfectly, and we come together. Once I’ve emptied inside her, I stand there, admiring the smooth lines of her back and the beaded sweat like a row of jewels on her neck.
Then, with a mournful sigh, I pull out. I watch with a fierce sense of ownership as she straightens herself shakily. She grabs a napkin off the table and wipes herself off before reaching for her slip dress.
“Jesus,” she gasps, falling back into a chair the moment the dress is in place. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk right for a week.”
I smirk and reach for a piece of bread.
“You don’t have to look so proud, you know,” she adds teasingly.
In response, I look her dead in the eye while I tear off a hunk of bread with my teeth. So much for table manners. She let the savage out of the cage, and it has no interest in going back in.
“Hungry?” she asks, trying to fill the silence.
“Yes, but I’d rather be eating you.”
Even after what we just did, she still blushes. She breaks our heated eye contact and reaches for the wine.
“Do you think she’ll call?” she asks after a long sip to steady herself.
“Willow,” I say gently. “We’re pretending tonight. Normal. Remember?”
She sighs. “It’s easier said than done.”
“It was your idea.”
She takes a deep breath and sips her wine thoughtfully. “Okay. If we’re pretending… tell me where Ariel is right now.”
“She’s in France,” I say without hesitation. “She’s living in a villa in the south, deep in the countryside, no one around for miles. She goes down to the beach and swims in the ocean on the weekends.”
“And during the week?”
“She gardens, when the mood strikes. Paints, too.”