Chapter 22 CHAPTER 22
"You’re dangerous," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "I can tell."
I arched a brow. "And what makes you say that?"
"Because," he murmured, his fingers inching higher, "you’re sitting here, looking at me like you want to devour me, and you haven’t even touched me yet."
A laugh bubbled up in my throat, but it died when his hand slid further, his pinky brushing the inside of my thigh. "Maybe I’m waiting for you to make the first move," I breathed.
He didn’t hesitate. One second, his hand was on my thigh; the next, his fingers were tangled in my hair, his mouth crashing against mine. The kiss was filthy his tongue sweeping past my lips, claiming me, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip just hard enough to make me gasp. I could taste the whiskey he’d been drinking, the heat of him, the sheer demand in the way he kissed me. My hands found his chest, my nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, and when he groaned into my mouth, the sound sent a jolt of desire straight to my core.
We barely made it to his place. The ride in the taxi was a blur of hands and mouths, his fingers tracing the waistband of my skirt, my teeth scraping over the pulse point in his neck. By the time we stumbled through his door, my blouse was unbuttoned, his shirt was half-undone, and I could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against his slacks, begging for my touch.
His apartment was sleek, modern—all dark wood and sharp lines, the kind of place that screamed power. But I didn’t care about the decor. I only cared about the way he backed me against the wall the second the door clicked shut, his body pinning mine, his mouth finding my neck. "Fuck, Ayla," he growled, his lips hot against my skin. "You smell so good. Like sin and something sweet."
I tilted my head, giving him better access, my breath hitching as his teeth grazed my collarbone. "You talk too much," I gasped, my hands fumbling with his belt. "Show me what you’ve got."
He laughed, low and dark, before dropping to his knees in front of me. The suddenness of it made my legs tremble. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my skirt higher, higher, until the cool air hit my lace panties. "Patience, baby," he murmured, his breath hot through the fabric. "I’m going to taste every inch of you before I fuck you."
And then his mouth was on me.
Through the lace.
The first lick was slow, deliberate, his tongue dragging up the center of my panties, the wet heat of it making me whimper. "Branden—"
"Shh," he murmured against me, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my panties and tugging them down, down, until they pooled at my ankles. "Let me hear you."
And then his mouth was on me, no barrier, no teasing—just his tongue, flat and broad, licking me from my entrance to my clit in one long, slow stroke. "Oh, fuck—" The words tore out of me, my hands flying to his hair, my hips jerking forward. He groaned against me, the vibration making my toes curl, and then his lips sealed around my clit, sucking hard.
"Yes—just like that—" My voice was breathless, desperate. His fingers dug into my ass, holding me steady as he devoured me, his tongue flicking, circling, driving me higher. "You taste so fucking good," he growled, pulling back just long enough to speak before diving back in, his nose pressing against my clit as his tongue speared into my pussy. "So sweet. So wet for me."
I was panting, my thighs trembling, my grip on his hair tightening as the pleasure coiled tighter, tighter—"I’m gonna—Branden, I’m gonna come—"
"Do it," he commanded, his voice rough. "Come on my tongue, baby. Let me feel you."
And I did.
The orgasm crashed over me, my back arching, my cry filling the room as my pussy pulsed against his mouth. He didn’t let up, licking me through it, drawing out every last shudder until I was boneless, my legs threatening to give out. Only then did he stand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark with hunger.
"Now," he said, his voice a growl, "it’s my turn."
He didn’t give me time to recover. One second, I was slumped against the wall; the next, he had me spun around, my hands pressed flat against the cool surface, my ass pushed out toward him. I heard the clink of his belt, the rustle of his slacks, and then the hot, heavy weight of his cock was pressing against my ass, sliding between my cheeks, teasing my slick pussy.
"You’re dripping," he groaned, his free hand gripping my hip. "Fuck, Ayla, look at you."
I arched back against him, my voice a whine. "Stop teasing me. Fuck me."
He didn’t need to be told twice.
The first thrust was hard, his cock filling me in one deep stroke, stretching me, making me gasp. "Oh, fuck—Branden—"
"You take me so well," he groaned, his hips snapping forward, driving into me again. "So tight. So perfect."
His hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to expose my neck, his lips finding the sensitive skin there. "You like that, baby?" he growled, his cock pistoning in and out of me, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. "You like when I fuck you like this?"
"Yes—harder—" I was babbling, my nails scraping against the wall, my pussy clenching around him. "Fuck, yes, just like that—"
He didn’t hold back. His grip on my hip tightened, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, each snap of his hips driving a cry from my lips. "You’re mine," he growled, his teeth sinking into my shoulder. "Say it."
"Yours—" The word tore out of me, my body tightening, my orgasm building again, faster this time, more intense. "I’m yours, Branden—"
"That’s right," he snarled, his free hand snaking around my front, his fingers finding my clit. "Come for me again. Now."
And I did.
The second orgasm hit me like a freight train, my pussy clamping down around his cock, my cry muffled against the wall. He groaned, his thrusts growing erratic, his cock swelling inside me. "Fuck, Ayla—I’m gonna—"
"Do it," I gasped, pushing back against him. "Come inside me."
That was all it took.
With a groan, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he came, his cum filling me, hot and thick. I could feel every twitch, every spurt, my own body milking him, drawing out his release until he was spent, his forehead pressing against my back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
For a long moment, we stayed like that him still inside me, my body humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. And then, slowly, he pulled out, his cock glistening with a mix of my arousal and his cum. He turned me around, his hands cupping my face, his kiss slow and deep, like he was savoring me.
"Round one," he murmured against my lips, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I’m not nearly done with you yet."
And he wasn’t.
The next time, he took me on his bed, his mouth on my nipples, his fingers stretching my pussy before he slid inside me again, this time slow, deep, his hips rolling in a rhythm that had me whimpering beneath him. "You feel so good," he groaned, his lips trailing down my body, his tongue circling my navel before dipping lower. "I could fuck you forever."
And when he flipped me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up so my ass was in the air, his cock sliding into me from behind, his hand reaching around to play with my clit, I knew I’d never get enough of him.
"Harder," I begged, my voice a rasp. "Fuck me harder, Branden—"
And he did.
His cock pounded into me, the sound of flesh meeting flesh loud in the room, my cries mixing with his groans. "You’re mine," he growled, his hand coming down on my ass with a sharp smack that made me yelp. "Say it again."
"Yours," I sobbed, my pussy clenching around him. "Only yours—"
And when he came this time, it was with my name on his lips, his cock buried deep, his cum filling me as my own orgasm crashed over me, my body shuddering, my vision whiting out with pleasure.
We collapsed onto the bed after, limbs tangled, skin slick with sweat. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back, his lips pressing soft kisses to my shoulder. "You’re incredible," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction.
I turned my head, catching his mouth in another kiss, my hand finding his cock, already hardening again beneath my touch. "We’re not done yet," I whispered against his lips.
And we weren’t.