Page 43 of A Man of Power

I open my mouth while looking up at him from beneath my lashes and he slowly works his cock past my lips. I lick the underside and watch as his jaw tenses. His eyes blink closed for half a second and then he opens them again and takes my head in his hands. He’s giving me a moment to decide. I give him a nearly imperceptible nod and he slams his cock into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I gag, but he doesn’t relent. He just continues to fuck my face. I close my eyes as the tears stream down them. I will myself to breathe through my nose as I let him take what he needs.

Suddenly, his cock is gone and he’s hauling me up to stand in front of him. “I need more of you, now,” he commands as he reaches for my hand and grasps it. I follow him to his room, where he makes quick work of removing our clothes.

He has me on the bed on my knees facing away from him in a matter of seconds. His hand comes up and grips my throat from the front, while the other pushes me down. His leg kicks my legs wider apart. His free hand comes to my hips and arranges me how he wants me. I don’t have time to react as he plunges inside me in one solid motion.

I grunt from the impact. His hand loosens around my throat, and I swallow. He stays perfectly still for a long moment. I feel his thumb against my carotid artery. And then, he pulls out until just the tip of his cock is inside me before thrusting back inside again. Over and over, he repeats this punishing movement. It’s slow and I want it fast, but as if he knows fast will make me climax, he refrains from speeding up.

“Please,” I finally beg.

“Please, what, little dove?”

I lick my lips. Damn him and his overpowering demands, but like a moth to a flame, the words spill from my mouth without any thought given beyond my annoyance, “Please, Congressman.”

And with those two little words, his hips piston at a pace that shouldn’t be sustainable for more than a few seconds, yet he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent even as I scream his name and go free-falling into total and utter peace as I let my body relax into the mattress. He removes his hand from my throat and grips my hips with both hands, keeping my pussy where he wants it as he chases his release.

He comes on a groan as he slams into me one last time. I feel his cock stretching me as it twitches again and again inside me, and it pushes me over one last time. My body trembles and I let out a cry that goes unheard as my face is pressed into the mattress.

I feel him slowly pull out of me, but he doesn’t release my hips. I turn my face to the side and look back behind me. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

He’s watching his release run down my thighs, his eyes intent on following the trails of liquid spilling out of me.

“You have no idea how fucking sexy you look with my cum running down your legs, do you?” he says in a low raspy voice.

I swallow. “How do you do that?”

His eyes finally leave my pussy, and his gaze travels up my body to my face.

“Do what?”

“Make me want you again after I just had you?” I admit.

He smirks and takes his hand off my hip, reaching between my legs and smearing his release all over my folds before shoving two fingers inside me.

“Someone’s greedy,” he says. I want to tell him to “fuck off” but I can’t because what he’s doing right now feels so good. He pauses as if reading my mind. “Play nice, little dove, and I’ll give you what you want, what you need.”

“I…am playing nice,” I stammer as I suck in a breath.

“Good, that’s good,” he coos as he works a third finger inside of me and finds the spot where I need him. His eyes shift back to watch his fingers fucking me. He has me at the precipice again, but then he removes his fingers and I gaze down between my legs to see his erection is back. He guides it between my folds and coats it in our mixed releases before plunging back inside me. This time, it’s fast. We both thrust faster and faster, our pace punishing yet perfect. He builds me up and pushes me over the edge once, twice, three times, before he finds his release.

This time he helps me to my feet again and lifts me into his arms. I relax and let my head rest against his shoulder as he walks us into his bathroom and turns on his shower with a touch of a button before setting me down. I watch as he checks the water’s temperature before helping me under the water so that he can wash me. His movements are so gentle, so caring. This man is a walking oxymoron. One second, he’s almost scary in how he behaves; the next second, he’s crumbling before me, and now he’s worshiping me with his touch. I have whiplash from his mood swings, and yet, I find myself falling harder for him by the second. It’s like wanting to touch the warm flame even knowing you’ll get burned.

He takes my head in his hands and leans down so his lips are a fraction of an inch away from mine. I feel his hot breath on my skin as he speaks.

“What are you doing to me, little dove?” he asks before closing the distance between us and kissing me with such passion that I’m momentarily frozen in shock. It doesn’t take me long to respond as I let go and match the strokes of his tongue along with mine. It’s a kiss to end all kisses. It feels like hello and goodbye all in one and the thought runs shivers down my spine, but I suppress the nagging notion of doom materializing like smokey wisps in the recesses of my brain. I won’t let my imagination ruin this moment, this very perfect kiss.

I allow myself to let go, to not think and just feel. The kiss goes on and on. I feel his hard length against my belly, and I reach to grasp it. He hauls me up his body and I slowly lower over him until he is fully seated inside me. He presses me to the hard shower wall, and we quickly find our rhythm without breaking our kiss. It’s slow and tender and says things that neither of us can.

Tears form behind my eyelids as I keep them closed out of fear that they may spill over. Why does this feel like a goodbye fuck? Why does this kiss feel like it’s our last one?

When we finish together, neither of us moves for long moments as our lips break their bond and our foreheads lean against the other’s. I hear a ping in the distance and Sebastian’s entire body goes rigid.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice coming out breathy.

His jaw clenches and he slowly lowers me to the ground and puts his palm under the automatic soap dispenser. He cleans me quietly without answering my question; his touch is soft, almost reverent and I don’t ask any more questions because I know he’s not going to answer them. I deserve answers, but I also know he needs the time to trust me first. Being with Sebastian is like being with a wild animal, he’s skittish and working on pure instincts ninety-nine percent of the time.

He washes himself with much less care while I rinse off. He turns off the water and hands me a towel before going to a screen on his wall and reading something. He swipes it clear before I can see it. His head hangs, and I wonder if he’ll start crying again. Why was he crying? What’s going on? I have so many questions, and as I’m about to ask them, he speaks.

“I’m no good for you. There’s no future with me. My life is…orchestrated. I can’t be the man you deserve,” he says, his voice laced with such pain that I don’t want to believe him.

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