Love The Way You Kiss Me

by W. Winters

  “If I had time to read, maybe I could offer an opinion.”

  “Oh?” Now Trish is looking at me, and I don’t mind it, not exactly. I prefer my focus to remain on Ella, though. “Is this one keeping you busy?”

  Heat blazes along the back of my neck and my right hand flexes. It’s one of the signals, commanding Ella to behave.

  I see an echo of that woman from the videos on the porn site. Not the woman on her social platforms who shared her day-in, day-out life with her followers, but the vixen at night. Her kinky, her less sweet, and much more provocative side.

  Ella’s gaze falls to my hand, and I rest a loose fist on the table.

  “I saw the comments, but that’s not what this is.”

  “Oh,” Kelly says and pouts, but Trish doesn’t seem to accept it, judging by the way her gaze dances between us.

  “I am here only to do my job. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  Ella’s reaction is tense at first. I imagine she’s wondering now whether she’s been behaving or not. The slight flush on her beautiful cheeks gives it away. It takes her quite a few minutes to relax her shoulders and settle into the rhythm again as the women order cappuccinos and lattes. It doesn’t go unnoticed that they’re quick to turn down the mimosas the waiter offers.

  Time ticks by even after the dishes are removed. I don’t care if we sit here until the restaurant closes, if that’s what Ella wants to do.

  Kelly has a constant stream of things to talk about, and Trish chimes in, the two of them a perfect team of entertainment and ease. Ella joins in from time to time. Occasionally her fingers tap her throat and she quickly sips her ice water to squelch whatever pain has come. This may be the first time she’s spoken for so long and so loudly. She generally keeps her voice low with me, but it’s not at all here. She doesn’t say as much as her friends, but it still doesn’t seem like they’re overpowering her. It’s like the three of them are a unit. They know when to give and take.

  I like that for her. I didn’t expect to feel so relieved when her friends turned out to be good people. There’s a sense of jealousy there too—that these women know Ella in a way I might never understand. They knew her before and she has yet to share that with me.

  I’m watching Ella’s face so intently that I miss the change in the conversation.

  “—like James used to do.”

  Her gaze drops down to the tea bag that sits on the edge of a small porcelain saucer, the smile still in place on her face. “Mm-hmm,” she answers.

  Trish is still speaking, but I lose the rest entirely. It doesn’t matter. Ella runs her fingers through the napkin in her lap and raises her head to continue with the conversation.

  I abandon all thoughts of anything other than signs of distress, staying relaxed. I’m not going to give her friends any indication there’s a problem—especially if there isn’t one yet.

  At first I think Ella’s lifting her hand to touch her throat again, my body tense and waiting still. But then her fingertips hover over her lips.

  My reaction is instant. I take out my phone and study the screen. “I need to step outside for a moment.” I speak over Kelly, effectively halting the conversation, saying it with a smile, and Trish and Kelly both smile back. “Ella, would you come with me?” I don’t dare glance at the other women, although their objections come with a short gasp from one of the two of them. She nods gratefully, not speaking, and I pull out her chair for her to stand. In her silence, I promise the women, “I’ll bring her back in a few minutes.”

  “You’d better,” scolds Trish. It’s not lost on me that the two don’t speak while we leave. Which is certainly an indication that they will the moment we’re off.

  With a hand on Ella’s lower back, I escort her out of the restaurant. Silently we descend the stairs, although her pace is quicker than my own. She turns immediately to the right and heads through a small alley that lets out to a riverwalk. The river in autumn reflects the colors of the trees, and Ella walks without hesitation to the railing and leans against it.

  I should take my hand off her back.

  I don’t.

  Ella lifts her head and peeks at me. “I’m not going to jump.”

  I think she means it as a joke, but I answer the emotion in her eyes instead of the words. “You’re thinking about that? Is that where your head has gone?”

  She shakes her head. “No. But I was worried yours might be there.”

  I assure her, “It’s not. And you would fail miserably if you attempted to jump while I was here.”

  She huffs a small laugh with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes as she gazes over the still waters.

  “I just needed some fresh air.” She touches the front of her chest, and I know. I know that feeling. Someone says a name you’re not expecting and you have a small heart attack. Hurts like the muscle itself has been bruised. I know it so well.

  I hate this moment. This grief that she’s coping with. But to deal with it in such a healthy way, I admire her. “I am proud of you,” I tell her and she peers up at me.

  “I couldn’t even last a brunch, and you’re proud.”

  “How is this not lasting?” I ask her, pushing back.

  “Would you hold me, then? I deserve a reward, don’t I?” Her pleas are voiced in a teasing manner, her wide eyes still glinting with vulnerability.

  My intention is to pull her in for a hug. But as I reach for her, something else takes over. I don’t put my hands on her shoulders. I reach for her face, take her chin in my hand, and pull her to me.

  And kiss her.

  Right there on the riverwalk.

  Ella’s lips part for me and she makes a little noise into my mouth, a contented sigh. Fuck, she tastes good. Sweet and delectable. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips and she lets me in. It’s so easy, and so right, like she was made for me. Like my whole life was dragging me here by the hand.

  Boundaries be damned.

  My little bird presses close to me, her body warm against mine, and I find both hands in her hair, both hands pulling her in. I don’t want her far from me. I don’t want her anywhere out of my sight. I want this forever.

  And if I’m honest, which I haven’t been—not with Cade, not with Damon, not with myself—I want her so badly it hurts. Kissing her shoves the truth out into broad daylight. Punishing her will never be enough. Making her come will never be enough. A quick, hard fuck would do nothing to kill this craving. With her, it wouldn’t stop until I’d had my fill. Until I’d tasted each of her boundaries and all her sadness and let her see mine as well. Let her tear them all down.

  Ella kisses me back, harder than before, and then she comes up for air. It tastes sweet and crisp, like this autumn breeze. But nothing is as sweet as her arms around my neck. She leans back into my hands, trusting me to hold her up.

  “Z,” she whispers.

  “Little bird.”

  I untangle her arms from my neck, but it’s the last thing I want to do. Reality is setting in. We’re out behind the brunch restaurant, where anyone could see. I’ve lost track of time. I have no idea how long I tasted her. How long I lost myself in her mouth and her touch.

  “Are you ready?” I question her. I’ll be right there beside her with whatever excuse or escape she needs when we return to that table.

  “I want to use the restroom before we go back.”

  “Go ahead,” I tell her. “I’ll wait for you by the stairs.”

  She turns my hand in hers so she can press a kiss to my knuckles. “Are you okay?”

  “Are you?”

  Her grin lifts up the corners of her mouth, and I can’t help myself—I press my thumb to that curve and then run it over her cheekbone. “I’m good,” Ella says. “I just had a little moment.” With a small shake of her head, a laugh gets away from her. “I’d rather stay out here and kiss you. But my friends will wonder where we went.”

  “Mmm,” is all I can say, and my hum of approval is low and deep. As would I.<
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  Ella rises on tiptoe and kisses my cheek, a brief heat against my skin, and then she’s gone, moving back through the alley.

  I’m about to turn around and let the railing keep me from collapsing when I see him.

  Damon.

  At the corner of the building, his eyes on Ella as she enters the small restroom beside the alley. My heart pounds. Damon comes to a stop a foot in front of me, and when he looks into my eyes, I know.

  He saw.

  He saw everything.

  Damon slips his hands in his pockets, his jaw working. There are probably a hundred things he’d like to say to me right now, and I tense, waiting for the worst of them. How I’ve put Ella at risk. How I’ve been dishonest. How I could truly fuck things up for The Firm, and, by extension, for him. The silence gets painful.

  The worst of it is that admitting any of it threatens to take her away from me.

  There’s no judgment in his words, only disapproval in his expression when he states, “You have to tell your brother.”

  Ella

  While emotional attachments between clients and members of The Firm are expected, these attachments will be carefully managed so they do not compromise the safety of the client or any member of The Firm.

  All I keep thinking about is how well it went. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them. I missed going out, I missed laughing, I missed seeing the people I love.

  There’s still a pounding anxiousness in my chest that won’t quit. It’s been there since this morning and it hasn’t left me for a moment, other than one.

  When Zander cupped my chin, when he let me deepen the kiss, when he pulled me in close to him and there wasn’t a thing separating us.

  It all stopped then, and that anxious feeling in my chest … it changed. It’s still there thrumming away as I wait for him at the bottom of the stairs.

  Picking at my nails, I wonder if he feels it too. I can’t help but to worry. He’s been different, quiet. Or at least I think he has. Maybe it’s all in my head.

  A huff of nervous laughter leaves me at the thought.

  Damon took me home after lunch so it’s been hours now since I’ve seen Zander, but he should be here any moment. I imagine he’ll be wearing what he did earlier, but I’ve changed. There’s a chill that slips up the silk fabric of my pale pink robe as I sit here and without anything under it, shivers grace my bare skin.

  I remember this part. I remember falling. To be in this moment and know it is surreal. That fluttering of butterflies dives lower as the rumble of my name reaches me. His timbre is low, seductive.

  “There you are,” he murmurs and I peer up at him, sitting on the bottom step and feeling so small beneath him.

  He towers over me and I’m so very aware of how much power I’ve given him. How much control he has over my emotions, my actions … my desires.

  “And there you are,” I offer him in return, attempting to maintain a semblance of confidence that seems blurred in all of this.

  “I did good today … didn’t I?” I question and if I wasn’t his submissive, I’d hate that I’m searching for his approval. If I’m honest, part of me isn’t at this moment. Part of me sees a man I’m falling for, and I want him to be proud of me.

  “You did exceptionally well.”

  “I told you you’d like them.” Nervous jitters leave me as I reach for the journal. “You’ll want to read the part I’ve bookmarked with the ribbon,” I tell him and swallow the knot in my throat. “I did what you asked. I wrote what it was that I thought would please you most.”

  My heart pounds as Zander takes the journal from me, his fingers slipping against mine as he does and there’s an electric knowing that forces me to pull my hand away faster than I’d like.

  His stubbled jaw is strong at this angle, his gaze holding something I haven’t seen before. Thump, thump, my heart wars inside of me.

  “You wrote what would please me most?” he asks and I nearly spill it all right now as I stare up at him, praying he’ll understand. That what I feel for him is what he feels for me and that even my darkest days won’t take away from what we have.

  Tears prick at the memory, the memories, the anguish, the shame still fresh in my mind. “I did it. And you said … you promised that I could pick what would please me most if I did it,” I remind him. The desperation in my voice doesn’t go unnoticed by either of us.

  Letting the hand holding the notebook fall to his side, Zander asks me, “And what is it that you want most? What would please you most?”

  Standing on shaky legs, my fingers fumble with the tie of the robe, but only for a half second before it comes undone. The moment it opens, I shrug it off my shoulders and let the diaphanous fabric fall to the floor, leaving me bared to him.

  His gaze drops to my breasts and he utters my name in weakness, “Ella.”

  “Take me,” I plead. “Take me upstairs and make me yours. Please.” My fantasy, what I want most … it’s for me to have him, fully and in every way. Not just for tonight, but we can start with this moment.

  Staring into his eyes, I pray he can feel how much I need this, especially after today and whatever’s changed between us. “I want you,” I whisper.

  His lips crash against mine and I moan into his mouth. Loving him, needing him. This. All of this. It’s everything that I have been missing.

  He takes the stairs two at a time. One arm bracing my bare back, his hand gripping my neck to hold me to him, his other arm wrapped around my ass as tightly as my legs are wrapped around his thighs. I’m barely aware of the world around us, it whips by far too quickly.

  The second my back hits the door, there’s a click of the knob being twisted and it opens behind me. Ushering an approving groan from Zander.

  I’m on the bed at once, letting out a gasp. Zander’s quick to undress himself as I push myself back on the bed.

  And then there he is, a hunter at the end of my bed. Crawling toward me, naked, and his cock jutting out, hard and thick. The heat from his body is nearly suffocating. He is everything, and nothing else matters as licks his lower lip and takes a languid lick of my pussy. He doesn’t hesitate to dip his tongue into my entrance, causing my back to arch. His large hands wrap around my inner thighs, spreading me and holding me there for him as he moves his lips to my clit and sucks.

  If I gave a fuck, I’d be ashamed of the mangled whimper that leaves me, but as it is, I don’t hide a thing from him. I want him to know what he does to me.

  Kissing up my body, he leaves me wanting. His shoulders are foreboding as he cages me under him. The head of his cock teases my lips.

  I’m ready to beg him, the words on the tip of my tongue, but they don’t make it out. He slams inside of me without any further warning. The sweet pain of being stretched steals my breath. His gaze pins me as much as his body does while my body attempts to accommodate him.

  He stays there buried inside of me, ever my ruthless Dominant, while I can barely survive beneath him.

  Lowering his lips to mine, he kisses me, sucking in my bottom lip as he pulls out slightly and then pushes himself all the way back in. The movement forces me to hold on to him.

  He nips the lobe of my ear and groans, “I knew you’d feel like this … fucking perfect.”

  Pulling back, he looks deep in my eyes and tells me, “I wanted to be controlled for you, I wanted to take it slow.” My breath is shuddery as he warns me, “But I’m not going to be able to do that this time.” Before I can respond, Zander lifts my hips slightly and well and truly fucks me.

  I wanted him to take me, and that’s exactly what he does.

  Pounding into me as if he needs me as much as I need him.

  I shatter beneath him. My blunt nails dig into his shoulders and my body tenses around him. With my head thrown back, I’m lost in pleasure. Zander doesn’t stop, he rides through my orgasm and every thrust brushes against my clit, heightening the overwhelming bliss.

  The sounds of flesh hitting flesh intensify a
s my arousal spreads between us. It seems to only spur him on, to fuck me hard and faster, to take from me over and over again. I writhe under him as the intensity climbs again, the cliff I’ll fall from seemingly higher.

  I can barely breathe as the next crashes through me and my neck arches. With the chill of the air hitting my heated face, I scream out his name as my body tenses and every nerve ending blazes. It starts from the pit of my belly and then rages outward.

  Zander sucks and nibbles my neck, as I do everything I can to get a grip, to come back down from the highest high. But I can’t. His hips piston relentlessly, never giving me a moment to gather purchase. Instead, he kisses me, he fucks me, and his grip keeps me pinned beneath him, leaving me without any mercy at all.

  “Zander.” His name is a plea on my lips, one he doesn’t take. Repositioning my leg higher up, he slams into me, groaning his pleasure into the crook of my neck. I can’t help but to cry out my scream of pleasure as he fucks me deeper. Clawing at his back, the mix of pain and pleasure threatens to destroy me. To ruin me.

  I try to plead with him, to call out his name. “Z” is barely a whisper as his pace picks up.

  Pink. I nearly cry out pink as he thrusts himself inside of me and leaves himself there, his cock pulsing as yet another orgasm paralyzes me.

  My heart hammers and my body trembles. It takes me far too long to release, and he’s finished with me that time. Leaving my legs shaking. With his forearms braced on either side of my head, he whispers kisses along my jaw and then down my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

  If I could find my voice, I’d tell him he wrecked me. I’ve had sex plenty throughout my life, although it’s been so long now. I’ve had lovers and one-night stands; I’ve had a Dom and a husband who loved me and fucked me thoroughly.

  This, though, this shattering and feeling bared in a way that’s far too vulnerable … This feels like the first time. It feels like Zander’s taken something from me I didn’t realize I had to give.