Page 52 of Dial L for Lawyer
"They can watch me worship you." I bite down gently and she gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Do you know what you've done to me? Six months, Serena. Six fucking months of cold showers and my own hand and waking up hard just from dreaming about you."
"I know," she breathes. "Me too. Vibrators and regret and—oh God, do that again."
I do, sucking at her pulse point while my hands explore the curve of her waist through the dress. The elevator dings and I practically carry her to the suite, my phone buzzing with the digital key.
The door clicks shut and I'm on her, walking her backward into the room. My hands are everywhere—her hair, her face, her perfect fucking ass in this dress that's been torturing me all night.
"Wait," she says suddenly, and I freeze.
"What's wrong?"
"The lights. Can we..." She gestures vaguely at the bright overhead fixtures.
I don't ask why. I can see the vulnerability in her eyes, the way she's holding herself. Instead, I step back and hit the master switch, plunging us into darkness. Then I move through the suite, finding the bedside lamps, clicking them on their lowest setting. Just enough to see her outline, the red of her dress, the way she's watching me with something like gratitude.
"Better?"
"Perfect."
"Good. Now come here."
She does, meeting me at the foot of the massive bed. I cup her face, kissing her soft and slow this time, trying to tell her with my mouth what I can't seem to say. That she's beautiful, that I want her, that the lights don't fucking matter as long as she's here.
My hands find the tie of her wrap dress, starting to pull, but she catches my wrists.
"No." Her voice is breathless but firm. "The dress stays on."
I pause, searching her face in the dim light. There’s a flash of panic, the way her body tenses. Whatever she's protecting herself from, it's bigger than just modesty.
"OK," I say immediately. "Whatever you need."
"But these..." She reaches under her dress and I hear three distinct snapping sounds, followed by rustling fabric. "These can go."
She wiggles her hips, shimmying her panties down her legs until she steps out of them and straightens back up, dangling black lace from her finger with a smirk that goes straight to my cock.
"Fuck," I breathe. "That's...the hottest thing I've ever seen." My voice comes out jagged, nearly a growl. "But if we're leavingthe dress on, the heels stay too." I push her back onto the bed, making her laugh.
"Caleb—"
"Non-negotiable." I catch her ankle, running my hand up her calf to her thigh. "These shoes have been destroying me all night. They stay."
"Bossy."
"You have no idea." I push the dress up just enough, spreading her thighs. "I've been thinking about this for so long. What you'd taste like. What sounds you'd make."
"Less talking, more—oh my God."
I bury my face between her thighs, and the taste of her is so sweet and perfect that I groan against her. She cries out, her hands immediately tangling in my hair, holding me there like it’s where I belong. Nowhere else.
"Caleb, fuck, your mouth?—"
I work her with my tongue, finding the rhythm that makes her shake, the pressure that has her grinding against my face. The dress is pooled around her waist, the red fabric framing her perfectly, and those fucking heels are digging into my back as she wraps her legs around me.
"I need—please, I need?—"
I slide two fingers inside her while my tongue focuses on her clit and fuck if she's not dripping for me, clutching the comforter in both fists like it's the only thing tethering her to earth. A part of me wants to slow it down, savor every gasped ‘oh God’ and roll of her hips, but tonight isn't about teasing. Tonight is about making her feel so desired, so fully fucking wanted, that it burns through every last scrap of doubt she's ever had.
I work her with my mouth, my fingers, matching her every shudder with a low groan of my own. She's so responsive, needy and so goddamn real, that it takes everything I have not to lose it myself. I keep at her, relentless, until her moans pitch upand she shatters against me, heels digging into my back with gratifying force.
