Isabella’s PoV
“I thought I could wait. But I can’t.”
His voice was rough with restraint, yet his actions were anything but hesitant. He shifted away from between my thighs, only to let his hands slide up my body, palms gliding over the soft curve of my waist before settling on my breasts.
“Keep your legs open, Bella babe,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. “I need to touch these perfect tits of yours.”
The warmth of his breath sent shivers down my spine as his fingers curled possessively around me, kneading, squeezing—claiming. And then, his tongue found its way back between my thighs, dragging a slow, deliberate lick up my entrance, savoring me as if I were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. My breath hitched, and my fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring myself to him.
“Oh, God!” I gasped, the pleasure striking me like lightning.
He hummed against me, the vibration making me arch off the seat.
“Please… yes… there,” I babbled, the words pouring from me in a mindless plea. “Sir. Master.”
The titles spilled from my lips, unbidden but so natural, as he ate me like he enjoyed it, like it was his own personal addiction, like he would die if he didn’t have this, have me. He devoured me, his tongue teasing, flicking, pressing just right until my vision blurred. The sensation was maddening, and the rough scrape of his beard against my slick heat was an added torment, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through me.
“You taste so good,” he growled, his words a heated whisper against my aching clit before he closed his lips around it and sucked. Hard.
A sharp cry tore from my throat as I jerked, my thighs snapping shut around his head, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. If anything, my reaction only seemed to spur him on, his tongue lashing and teasing while his hands kept me spread wide for him.
“Please,” I whimpered, tears pricking my eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. “It’s too much.”
But he didn’t listen. He devoured me whole, pulling me under, drowning me in the sensation of his mouth, his tongue, his teeth grazing against me in a way that sent me spiraling. My body tightened, the pleasure coiling like a spring inside me until it snapped, and I shattered with a scream so loud it echoed inside the car.
My body jerked, spasmed, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, leaving me trembling beneath his relentless mouth. He didn’t stop, didn’t pull away until my orgasm had wrung me dry, and only then did he finally relent, placing a final, lingering kiss against my quivering core before pulling back.
"Such a good girl," he murmured, licking his lips. With a satisfied smirk, he straightened and got down returning to the driver’s seat. I lay there, boneless, my body still humming with aftershocks, breath heavy and ragged, lost in the lingering sensations of his touch.
The only sound in the car was my own labored breathing as my head rested limply against the door handle, my legs trembling too much to move. From my vantage point, I saw him adjusting himself in his seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Even through his pants, I could see the evidence of his arousal—thick and straining against the fabric.
“Sir…” My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Would you like me to suck you off?”
He stilled.
For a brief moment, he didn’t move, and I wondered if I had spoken too boldly. Then, he turned just enough for his sharp blue eyes to meet mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths before he faced forward again, gripping the wheel tighter. He said nothing. Just kept driving while I tried to steady my breathing, my body still thrumming from the aftermath.
Minutes passed, the silence thick with tension. I had nearly caught my breath when I finally sat up, still shaken but no longer lightheaded, and I found my gaze drawn back to him. He was still hard. Still painfully restrained.
He was watching me.
Through the rearview mirror, our eyes met again, his gaze dark and heavy, tracing the flushed state of my face, my swollen lips, my bare thighs still damp from his mouth.
I swallowed. “You’re still hard.”
His lips twitched in something like amusement. “That’s because I could hear your breathing.”
I bit my lip, realizing too late that I had spoken my thoughts aloud. Heat rushed to my cheeks, but before I could respond, he abruptly pulled the car to the side of the road.
The streetlights cast a dim glow inside the car, illuminating his chiseled jaw, the slight clench of it, the way his nostrils flared as he exhaled heavily. He turned to me, fully now, his eyes locked onto mine, unwavering, searching.
“Do you really want this dick?” he asked, voice low, measured, but no less commanding.
Despite the powerful orgasm that had left me wrecked just minutes ago, my core clenched at his words, a fresh wave of heat rolling through me. My thighs pressed together instinctively, but I knew what I wanted. I had no hesitation, no doubt.
"Yes," I breathed, my voice steady. "Please."
His gaze darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yes, what?"
I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. "I really want this dick."
His smirk widened, filled with amusement and something deeper, something dangerous. "Put on the blindfold and come to the front."
My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the blindfold, tying it securely around my eyes before fumbling to move from the passenger seat to the front. In my hurry, my shoulder clipped the dashboard, and I winced.
"Shit."
A low chuckle rumbled from him, deep and rich, but I had no time to feel embarrassed before his hand found the back of my head. Firm fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me down. And then, before I could even process it, the thick weight of his cock pressed against my lips.
He didn’t wait. He thrust forward, stretching my jaw, filling my mouth in one fluid motion. A moan tore from his throat, guttural and raw.
"Oh, my sweet Bella."
His pleasure sent a spark through me, charging me like live wire. My tongue curled around him, my lips tightening as I began to move. There was no hesitation, no teasing. I sucked him off with pure devotion, like it was my purpose, like this was what I was meant to do. The sounds he made only encouraged me—his gasps, his gritted curses, the deep growls reverberating through the car like music.
His smell... He smelt so good and tasted even better.
Tonight felt different. Unlike the drunken night when I had called him master and he had treated me like his submissive, tonight we were two equals, two lovers lost in reckless passion. There was something raw, something real in the way I took him deep, the way his fingers tangled in my hair, the way he let himself fall apart in my mouth.
This was love.
This night, we weren’t just giving in to lust—we were making love. It wasn’t frantic or desperate like before, but something deeper, something more intimate. We moved together with a rhythm that felt instinctual, as if we had known each other in another life, as if our bodies had been designed to fit together perfectly.
For the first time, it felt real. Not just passion, not just reckless indulgence, but something sacred. Like lovers who had spent years memorizing each other, who had built a foundation of trust, devotion, and need.
I had never felt this kind of reckless abandon before. The thrill of being together like this, tangled in each other in the confined space of his car, felt like something out of a dream. It was wild, exhilarating, intoxicating. Like teenagers in love, daring to defy the world, like nothing else mattered but this—us.
And as Levi came undone, his fingers tightening in my hair, the sharp tug sending a delicious sting through me, I realized something that left me breathless in a completely different way.
I loved him.
Not just the thrill, not just the dominance, not just the way he made me feel like the only woman in the world.
I was in love with him.
I was in love with my boss. I’ve always been in love with him.