Chapter 24 An Apology With His Tongue
Lawrence doesn't utter a word, but his eyes do all the talking.
I stand under the intensity of his gaze, watching him devour me.
He takes in every inch of me, one hand clenched into a tight fist at his side, the other shoved deep in his pocket like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for me.
My heart is racing so hard I'm sure he can hear it. The tension between us is so powerful... so electric that the only thing I can liken it to is live wires.
The walls of my apartment suddenly seems to press in, trapping us further in this moment.
Lawrence takes one step closer till we're barely an inch apart. But I don't back away. Instead, I lift my chin to meet that burning green gaze head-on.
He slides his hands around the back of my neck, and the very moment he touches me, I close my eyes, a shudder rolling through my body at the feel of him after so many days of cold silence.
"I apologise in advance," he rasps, "for what I'm about to do."
My eyes fly open, my lips parting to ask what he means when his mouth crashes to mine in raw, consuming need.
His fingers thread into my hair, fisting the strands, and I moan into his mouth, kissing him back with every anger, hurt, and want that I've been holding in, pouring it all out at once.
If this is what he wants to apologise for, he shouldn't bother.
I don't want sorry. I want this.
He kisses me with no restraint, walking me backwards until my spine hits the wall. One hand grabs my throat, tilting my head to the side so he can kiss my neck.
He sucks and bites and leaves hickeys blooming under his attention, before returning to claim my mouth again.
A low growl leaves his throat.
A soft, needy moan escapes mine.
My hands fly to his chest, clutching the lapels of his jacket desperately.
This kiss consumes me. And I've never been consumed by one before.
This is way too much.
It's nerve-wracking.
Brain-scrambling.
My thoughts of hating him become non-existent the second his tongue pushes past my lips, and mine surrenders without a fight.
He presses closer, his hips pinning me to the wall, while his hands slide down to my hips and pull me closer against him.
I feel his hardness straining against his trousers, pressing right between my legs.
Mighty Mr Moore, hard for me.
My fingers move into his hair—that ridiculous, lustrous brown that always falls over his forehead—and tug.
He growls again, nothing like the polished, controlled man who walked through my door thirty seconds ago.
This Lawrence is the opposite.
He's wild and unrestrained and desperate.
Before I can catch my breath, he lifts me without effort, his hands under my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist. His hardness presses directly against my core now, the friction maddening through the thin lace thong I'm wearing.
"Lawrence," I gasp, out of breath when he pulls the lacy bra down. My nipples spill free, already peaked and aching.
His mouth closes over one instantly, sucking hard. I throw my head back against the wall with a soft moan, my fingers fisting in his hair.
"Fuck," I whisper.
He lavishes attention on each breast in turn, sucking and grazing them with his teeth in ways that send shocks up my spine, until I'm panting, writhing against him, soaked and desperate.
"Lawrence," I mewl again.
He lifts his head, his green eyes darker with hunger. "Scarlett?" he murmurs.
Then he carries me away from the wall, my legs still wrapped around him, and drops me gently onto the sofa.
He shrugs out of his suit jacket, tossing it aside.
I watch him loosen his tie with one impatient yank, then drop to his knees between my legs, the glasses staying on.
Wide-eyed, I stare, my chest heaving as Lawrence spreads my thighs.
He pulls down the lace thong slowly, watching my face the entire time.
When I'm bare to him, and he sees how wet I am… how ready I am… a low, pleased sound leaves his throat.
He grips my thighs, shaking his head once, a mild crease between his brows when I try to close my legs. Then he leans in and starts kissing my inner thigh, working his way closer, until his mouth finally closes over me.
I arch off the sofa with a loud moan.
"Oh my God… fuck…"
He doesn't slow down, eating me hungrily, his tongue spearing inside me to fuck my hole in slow strokes before coming up to tease my clit.
One hand holds my hip down, the other moves up to cup my breast, pinching my nipple.
I'm floating on a cloud of pleasure, lost in a haze of building pressure. My hands are in his hair, twisting tighter that it has to hurt, my hips pushing shamelessly into his face.
I don't care if I'm suffocating him. He doesn't seem to mind either; in fact, the low, hungry sounds vibrating against me say he wants more.
"Oh my God, Lawrence… p-please," I gasp, my voice cracking from the pleasure.
I don't even know what I'm begging for.
If it's for release, or mercy, or more.
He growls against my core, then sucks my clit hard into his mouth, one hand sliding up my body to cup my breast.
Lawrence pinches my nipple sharp enough to make me gasp, and I arch harder into his mouth. "... ah…,"
To finish me off, he pushes a finger inside my cunt, administering the tongue and finger combo.
I think I start to see intergalactic shit.
He looks up to check on me, his glasses all fogged up, but I can clearly see the pleased, wicked glint in his eyes and the smirk hanging by the corner of his lip.
He comes up to kiss me briefly so that I may taste my own juices on his tongue.
I kiss him ravenously because a man who eats my pussy this good deserves nothing less.
Lawrence pulls away again, to continue, pushing two fingers into my soaked cunt.
They stretch me perfectly, hitting my G-spot as he pumps into me slowly.
I have a feeling he does this deliberately to drive me crazy.
It's working.
When he thrusts into me, it matches the rhythm of his tongue stroking my clit.
I have never been this wet from foreplay before. I'm literally dripping down his chin, my thighs starting to quake.
Lawrence steadies one of them with his free hand, but this demon continues to eat me till my hips are bucking helplessly against his hold.
He edges me.
How evil is that?
He won't let me come as some sort of torture. Every time I get close, he stops to watch me suffer and squirm in frustration, till I'm begging him again.
"Lawrence…, please j-just let me… c-come,"
I whimper, my hips grinding against his face harder. "I need… need to come…."
If he edges me one more time, I'll fucking push him off or kick him in the face.
I feel his tongue move faster over my clit, the same way his finger pumps faster and harder.
My eyes roll back, my back arching off the sofa. "Lawrence...fuck...I'm..."
I orgasm powerfully under a minute, crying out his name, with my thighs clamping around his head.
The pleasure is so consuming, I quiver without control while Lawrence pulls himself from under me to smooth back my hair.
"Beautiful," he whispers, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his bottom lip. "So fucking beautiful when you come for me."