Page 48 of The Rest is History
I continue to kiss her as her climax ebbs away, gently pulling out my hand. I’m on a precipice, so close to fucking exploding and yet brought to my knees by awe.
And I can’t resist.
I release her mouth and bring my soaked fingers to my own mouth, slipping two of them past my lips and sucking. My eyes drift closed in ecstasy.
Fuck. Me.
She tastes so fucking good.
God, I should have stayed on my knees. Bent her over that table and hitched up those skirts and brought her to orgasm with my tongue.
I thought feeling her come on my fingers would ruin me, but tasting her sends me over the edge.
When I open my eyes, she’s trying to catch her breath and staring at me, wide-eyed. Her face is flushed and sated and I fucking love it. I slowly pull my fingers out of my mouth and her gaze follows their trail.
‘Oh my God,’ she murmurs, like she hasn’t quite recovered the power of speech yet.
‘Exquisite,’ I tell her, and I swear she flushes.
I curl my other hand around her neck. Tasting her has made me even harder, if that’s possible. I want to lay her down on the floor and bury my face between her legs. But what I really need to do is shoot my load. Desperately.
My thumb scrapes over her jaw, and I try to keep my voice steady.
‘I need to go and—um—take care of business.’
She reaches for me. ‘No. Charlie, I want to make you come.’
Oh my God.
Oh my dear heavenly Father.
Charlie, I want to make you come.
I practically explode then and there. With great difficulty, I shake my head at her.
‘Nope. No need. This was about you, not me. Showing you how incredible you are.’
She narrows her eyes. ‘I thought it might have been about teaching me who’s boss.’
I swallow a smile. ‘That too.’
Reluctantly, I drop my hand.
‘You’re perfection,’ I tell her.
As I stumble out of the room in search of the nearest loo, she calls out, ‘If that’s how you show me who’s boss, I’m already planning my next misdemeanour.’
Dear God.
I don’t stand a chance.
CHAPTER 19
Elodie
‘Ooh. I like the sexy secretary look.’
A glance across the threshold of the History office on Monday morning shows Zara hanging back in her chair, grinning widely at me, and Charlie’s head snapping up towards the doorway at her words. He takes me in, and I touch my neck self-consciously, tearing my eyes away from him to answer Zara.
