by Ember Leigh
“Fuck, London.” I draw a fortifying breath, then finally find my keys in my coat pocket. I swipe the fob, and the door clicks open. I push inside, leading her into the expansive depths of my dusk-lit penthouse. Windows line the entire western wall, and the remaining burnt orange rays of sunset fill the cavernous living room, glinting off the chandelier over the dining room table. London’s mouth turns into an O as she beholds my home.
“This is pretty,” she breathes, head tilting as she takes it in. “Did you just move in?”
The question is a gut punch. It feels like I’ve been outed. “No. I’ve been here for about a year.”
She spins in a slow circle, still clasping my hand. “Then why are there so many boxes left?”
It’s easy to overlook stuff like that, when I’m barely here and I never have the energy to fully settle into this place. “I’m hardly ever home. It just keeps slipping by.”
“You could hire someone to help you finish up, you know.” Her heels click on the hardwood floor as we wander into the kitchen. Lake Erie sparkles in the distance, past the rooftops of other high-rise buildings. An interstate bridge cuts across the eastern half of our view. I love this place and the view. I just wish it felt half as welcoming as London’s home.
“You don’t even have any art up.”
“Hey, I have three pieces of fake fruit, and those count as art.” I jerk my thumb toward a decorative bowl on my enormous kitchen island. A pear, a banana, and an apple sit there permanently, gleaming at all hours of the day. Glancing at the fruit reminds me of my grumbling belly. I guide her toward the dining room table, which is a rustic set fashioned from upcycled, reclaimed wood, and encourage her to sit. “Let’s figure out what we want to eat. Besides your dripping wet pussy.”
A blush creeps across her cheeks. “You pick. I’m down for anything.”
“All right. We’re going to play delivery app Russian Roulette. First thing I find, I’m ordering.” While I scroll, she starts fiddling with my belt.
“Good idea. Otherwise you’ll be stuck deciding for hours. Like trying to find a movie on Netflix.”
Then my pants crumple to the ground. London is nuzzling the crotch of my boxer briefs, purring like a kitten.
“Mmm. I hope you take longer than a Netflix search down there.” I wet my bottom lip, unable to focus on the restaurant options on my screen. She laughs and places her mouth over the outline of my semi-hard cock, smiling up at me like she knows a secret.
“I’ll take so long we decide not to watch a movie after all,” she threatens, sliding her cool palms up along the sides of my thighs. She hooks her fingers over the edge of my boxer briefs and tugs them down. My cock springs free, bobbing heavily in the air between us. It grazes the velvet of her lips, and my abs go tight.
“Oops. Slapped myself in the face with that.” She laughs, her hooded gaze stuck on my cock. I lower my phone, the image of her distracted by my cock too sexy to ignore. But her eyes snap up to find mine. “Hey. Don’t get distracted. You need to eat. Order that food.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re just making it a little hard.”
She giggles. “Obviously.”
And then her hot breath brushes the tip of my cock. She’s brought her teasing game, and at this point, I can barely even see the screen of my phone. I grit my teeth, looking down at the glossy blonde top of her head.
“London,” I urge, flexing my hips ever so slightly.
“What?” She looks up at me, my cock veiny and straining toward her. Her open mouth is dangerously close to the tip of my cock, and she leans forward just enough to take my cockhead between her soft lips.
A groan rockets out of me as her tongue swirls over the army helmet, and then she pulls back. “Order.”
“I am.” Except I’m not. I begin swiping screens again, trying to remember where I was. I’m selecting things without realizing. Her fingernails scrape up my thighs as she presses soft, languid kisses along the length of my dick. I grunt, thrusting my hips. I need more. I need her swallowing me whole.
“What are you getting?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admit with a laugh. I’ve made it to a final screen, and I’m beginning to digest words when she wraps her lips around my cock and swallows my length. My phone falls from my hands, clattering to the floor. I can’t even care. Her silky mouth is God’s gift to humanity. To me.
Fuck all the other women she’s trying to set me up with. I only want her.
She pulls hard at me, and then disconnects with a loud pop. “Did you order?”
I grunt, fisting the front of my hair. “I don’t know. You make it hard to concentrate.”
She chuckles, handing my phone back to me. She plays with my balls while I make one last attempt to comprehend technology. Finally, I press ORDER and then drop the phone to the dining room table.
“Done,” I wheeze, just as she takes me into her mouth again. Her green eyes find mine as she takes long, intentional pulls at my cock. My abs go rock hard as she slurps and slobbers all over me. “Jesus, London. I didn’t know you were this hungry.”
She moans from around my dick.
“I would have let you have a taste in my office.” I tilt my head, watching as the waning slivers of color glint against her blonde hair. “If I knew you were starving.”
“Fucking ravenous,” she mumbles from around my cock.
“What’s that?”
“Ravenous,” she repeats louder, drooling all over my junk. I heard her the first time. I just like to watch her try to talk when she’s got a mouthful of me.
“Gonna have to speak up, beautiful.” I run my palm over the top of her head, and then take a firm fistful of her golden tresses. “Can’t hear you around my junk.”
She dislodges again, licking her lips as she eyes my dick. “You just want to hear me say dirty things.”
I groan. “Yes, please.”
London smirks, looking equal parts girl next door and kinky angel. “Fine. Your cock is so big that I was sore for a full week after we fucked. And I’m pretty sure you just massaged my tonsils with this thing.”
“Not what I was expecting, but hot nonetheless.”
She giggles, returning to the work at hand. She jacks me off at the same time she’s sucking me, and my balls are tightening within seconds. She’s heat and heaven and so fucking sexy, I could melt. I fist her hair again and flex deeper into her mouth. The orgasm is churning, and there’s no way I can stop it. Not when I’ve been imagining her on her knees in front of me daily for the past month.
London takes one last draw, and I pull myself out of her mouth, shooting my load in an epic arc across the dining room. She wipes her mouth, nodding.
“You got some real range on that one,” she comments, as if this were a spectator sport.
“Come here.” I tug her to standing and pull up my pants. I need to be buried inside her, because even though I just came, I’m ready for more of her. “I’m not done with you.”
I hoist her over my shoulder, landing a sharp crack against her ass as I haul her off to my bedroom. Inside my slate-gray haven, the only remainder of the sunset are mauve bands near the horizon, bleeding into inky black. I toss London onto my king bed easily, with views of Cleveland sprawled all around us.
“This is impressive,” she says, her voice breathy as I’m shucking my button-up.
“I know, the view is great.”
“No, I mean, this.” She traces a wide circle with her fingertip in my direction. “You’re bulking up.”
“Burning off all this sexual chemistry you refuse to acknowledge,” I say, stepping out of my pants. “It drives a man to extreme fitness.”
She laughs, but it fades quickly. “If that’s your dirty talk, it’s different from last time.”
“No, that’s just real talk. I have plenty of dirty things lined up for you, don’t worry.” I make quick work of her black slacks, sliding them down her legs, popping off her heels at the same time. She sits up long enough for m
e to slide the teal blouse over her head, revealing the plaid bra beneath. She helps me unclasp it, and when her palm-sized breasts are exposed, I scoop them up in both hands.
“Let’s hear it then,” she says, something in her tone giving away how fucking bad she wants this.
“Why the rush?” I bring my lips to one pebbled nipple, then the other. “You’ve been dying for it, haven’t you?”
Her head tips backward as a I flick my tongue over each nipple in turn. “Hm.”
“Fuck, London. You can’t lie to me. Don’t forget that.”
A shudder ripples through her, eyes drifting shut. “I don’t lie. I’m just…repressing.”
A grunt escapes me as my kisses drift down over her belly. There aren’t many people that I’d beg to hear everything they have to say, but London is definitely one of them. “You shouldn’t do that. It’s bad for your health.”
She wriggles beneath me as my lips approach her pussy. I can already see how swollen she is. How she’s fucking begging for it, without even saying a word. Seeing her laid out like this, hungry for me, even when every bit of her is trying to deny the attraction, sends me into a tailspin. If I were smart, I would stay away from her. But I’m powerless to say no to this.
I brush my lips over her swollen clit, and she arches beneath me. “Now, London.” My lips touch her clit as I speak. “What are you repressing?”
A throaty chuckle slides out of her. “We’re not playing therapist right now.”
“No, but this is the erotic extension of our little truth or dare game.” I flatten my tongue over her clit, and she moans, fisting the comforter. “Now what are you trying to keep inside?”
“Nothing.” She’s panting now, probably because I’ve slipped my middle finger inside her. She’s velvet and juice and the most delirious heat. I’d do anything for her right now, and she doesn’t even know it. Jump off a bridge? I-71 is right outside, so that’s easy. Quit my job? I don’t love the clinic most days; I’d probably find something else within a week. Drop the foundation? I’d send an email right now, rescinding my interest.
But she doesn’t ask any of that. She doesn’t even want me, not technically. I’m just aiming to change that.
“You were hiding something from me in the office,” I say, drawing teasing circles with my tongue around her clit. “And again now. So let’s just hear it. Otherwise, I might not give you what you’re looking for.”
She grunts. “Stop it. You can’t use my orgasm as a bargaining chip.”
“Too late. Already did.” I ease a second finger inside of her and pump them in and out, gloriously slow. She’s writhing now, bucking against my hand.
“Dommm.”
“How many times have you touched yourself, thinking about our night two weeks ago?” I press a soft kiss against the stiff tip of her clit.
She groans. “Enough.”
“Daily?” I ease in a third finger, and she sighs.
“Yes, Dom.”
I suck hard at her clit, and she cries out, bucking against my hand again.
“Me, too,” I admit, nuzzling her inner thigh. My hand drifts to my cock. I’m already begging for another release, and it’s been less than ten minutes since I came. “Do you have any idea how hard you make me? Fuck, London.”
“Why don’t you show me?” she breathes, arching again as I slurp at her clit. And she’s right. I should show her. I certainly plan to. But I need to know something first.
“You’d like that.” I bury my fingers in her again and keep them still. “But tell me one more thing, London. And I want you to be honest.” I flick my tongue back and forth over her clit. “If we didn’t have the matchmaking thing between us, would you give me a chance?”
Her face scrunches up, as if she’s unwilling to let the answer out of her mouth. Deep inside her, I begin curling my fingers. Her lips part, and she drapes an arm over her eyes.
“Yes, Dom. We’d be dating and fucking on the daily and visiting Zimbo’s every Friday.” It all rushes out of her in one long, hot confession, warming me to my core. I dip between her legs and lavish her clit with the attention I’d been denying it. Her fingers tangle in the top of my hair, and she rocks against my face, urging more friction, more passion.
I give it all to her. Because I got what I wanted. I fingerfuck her with the force I’d been restraining, and she unravels around me while my lips are covering her clit. She jerks once, and then again, moaning my name over and over again.
While she’s twitching and sated, I cover her body with mine, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Her eyes drift open and shut, but clarity zips through her gaze as my cock nestles into the folds of her pussy.
“Still not done with you,” I murmur into her jawline. My lips drag up to her earlobe.
“Mmmm.” A smile crosses her face.
“Exactly.” I wedge myself between her legs, my cockhead finding the damp heat of her pussy. She inhales sharply, fingernails digging into the ridge of my shoulder. Darkness has descended on the bedroom, the only light streaming in from the world beyond the floor to ceiling windows. Our union is backlit by amber and gold city lights, casting a dreamlike net over everything.
Her breathy pants punctuate the still air as I curl my fingers into the flesh of her ass cheeks and surge forward. The first moment of filling her makes everything fall away. A quiet, burning bliss fills me from head to toe. It feels too right. She feels too right.
Something low and guttural tumbles past her lips. Everything inside me goes tight, waiting for our next release. Together. I sink into her, deliciously slow, enjoying the way the light glances off the curve of her breast, the tip of her nose. Once I’m buried to the hilt, I scoop her up in my arms and flip us over, so that I’m lying on my back.
She pushes onto the heels of her palms, looking at me with a drugged gaze. “Dom. Why do you feel so good?”
“I could ask you the same question.” I kiss the tip of her nose, helping her sit up. My cock finds the last millimeters of space inside her, and a grunt rips out of me. Her head lolls to the side as she sits back on her heels.
“Ride me, beautiful.” I tweak a nipple, and then rest my hands at the swell of her hips. “Enjoy the view.”
“Oh, I am.” Her gaze is stuck to my chest.
“Talking about the city again.”
She laughs, dragging her gaze to the windows behind the bed. She gasps, pressing a hand to my chest. “Holy shit. I didn’t even notice it got dark.”
“That’s ten points for my pussy-eating skills,” I tell her.
“More like therapist negotiation skills.” She rocks her hips back and forth on top of me, starting a slow but glorious rhythm. I assist her, bucking from beneath, so hard that her breasts jiggle each time I thrust upward. Her breaths are wispy, fragile, almost. It won’t be long before she tumbles back over the edge.
I know it won’t be long for me. Not when she’s stretched like hot silk around me, her freckled smile burned into my memory. I slide a palm up over the curve of her ass, along her waist, finally cupping a breast. Her eyes drift open and shut as we find an intense but tender rhythm. Heat prickles inside me. A warning sign.
“I’m not going to last much longer,” I warn her.
“It’s okay.” She sounds like she’s a thousand miles away. Her hand covers mine on her breast, rooting me to my spot. “I want you to come inside me.”
Hearing those words alone is almost enough to push me over the edge. I drive into her again from below just as she arches against me, causing a girlish gasp to escape her. I play with her nipples as she rocks back and forth, and soon, my abs are tightening, and it’s all over for me.
I let out a gruff cry as the pleasure assaults me. London rocks against me again, her pussy turning into a vice around my cock as our orgasms wreak havoc at the same time. She throws her head back and moans, while I dig my fingertips into her ass cheeks as if she might float away if I don’t.
The bliss is blinding—overpowering—as I p
ump my rounds inside her. We turn into a sloppy, sticky, sated mess. But she doesn’t move. She just sits there and watches me, grinning like she’s the happiest woman in the world.
I recognize that glow. It’s burning bright inside me too.
And for right now? I’m the happiest man in the world.
Chapter 21
LONDON
Penthouses don’t allow much sleeping in. Not when floor-to-ceiling windows aren’t covered with good blackout curtains and the following Saturday morning is the brightest on record for all of civilization.
Dom must be a perpetual early bird or a sadist. Or perhaps both. I check the clock on the nightstand—seven thirty. Jesus. So much for sleeping in on the weekend.
As I come to consciousness, I realize I’m alone in the bed. The sheets are rumpled all around me, and for a moment, I’m sad. I wanted to wake up nuzzling into Dom’s warmth and that brand-new six pack I’ve been fawning over since yesterday.
His dark-haired head pops into the doorframe, hair tousled and the shadow of his beard sprouting across his jaw. God, this man is gorgeous. The sight of him steals my breath, and for a moment, I can’t think or say a thing.
“Morning, beautiful.”
“H-hi. How did you know I just woke up?”
“Had a feeling.” He walks into the bedroom, holding a spatula. “Also, I’ve been checking every three minutes.”
I fling my arm across the bed. “I was sad you weren’t here to cuddle with me.”
“Hang on.” He races out of the bedroom, and from deep inside the penthouse, I hear a brief clanking sound. Then he returns, sans spatula.
“Had to turn the stove off,” he explains as he climbs back into bed. His warm body meets my naked flesh a moment later, and he scoops me into his arms. He kisses the top of my head and everything inside me melts. Again. For like the billionth time.
“That was fast-acting cuddling.”
“When a woman like you asks to cuddle, it’s been my experience that you comply. No matter what.”
