Page 28 of The Alpha Escort Agency
He's relentless, his tongue swirling around and around her one moment, flicking her with long firm strikes the next, and then flickering wildly over her until the tension is too much. She grits her teeth, trying to push his head away with her hands, but he grips her arse, driving one finger deep inside her and working her from the inside as well. A low animalistic moan forms deep in her belly, driving through her lungs and escaping her mouth, her legs shaking. And then she comes, the tension breaking, all thought wiped from her mind, her vision behind her eyelids whiting and her entire body buzzing with ecstasy. She groans again as she rides the wave of it, the strength of it going on and on, his mouth still waiting. Then her body goes limp, and she collapses deep into the sofa.
“You taste so fucking good,” he says into her, the vibration of his lips knocking into her and sending her straight over the edge a second time.
“Shit,” she whispers, burying her face in her hands. “I've never come that hard before.” She shakes her head. Her body is bathed in sweat but feels weightless, boneless, as if she's bobbing on the surface of water, floating on air. “Where did you learn to do that?”
It's rhetorical. But he stiffens between her thighs and withdraws his fingers from her, her cunt almost groaning at the loss of him. He clambers to his feet, shrugging off his wet jacket, his face shiny with her slick.
“They didn't send me to some training course if that's what you mean.”
She pulls herself up on her elbows, trying to meet his eye. “I didn't mean it like that.”
His eyes travel over her face. He's annoyed and yet the heat of those warm eyes has her insides melting and she wants to pull his face back down onto her.
“It's natural, you know,” he says, more quietly.
She shakes her head. “It's not. Most men …” she pauses, scrabbling around in her brain to find the words. “It's not like that. It's not … wild like that.”
He stares at her, his shoulders rising and falling, his nostrils flaring. Then he turns away, and she feels suddenly cold despite the temperature of her skin rising with every passing minute. “I need to put the food away.”
“Are you angry with me?”
He halts, his hand sweeping back his hair from his face and then running down over his mouth. “No, with myself. I shouldn't have jumped you like that.”
“Am I complaining?”
“Maybe you should be.”
Bending down, he picks up the shopping bag he'd dropped by the front door and stomps into the kitchenette.
Alice watches him. What just happened? She frowns and rolls up to sitting, pulling her jumper down over her bare backside.
Should she follow him into the kitchen? Beg for forgiveness? Try to have it out? No, best to just ignore it and carry on.
“What did you bring me?” she asks, her voice a little too cheery in her ears.
“I'm not going to tell you.”
“Oh.”
“It's a surprise.”
She curls her knees up inside her sweater, chewing her cheek, and watches him unload boxes into the fridge.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asks when he's done.
“Yes, please. Just water.”
He cracks ice from the tray into two glasses, fills them with water from the tap. Then carries them over to her and sits on the other end of the sofa. Silently, they sip their water and the scent of him up close filters to her nose, that deep chocolate smell that she is beginning to find irresistible. The strength of it conjures flashes of images in her mind, of him heaving above her, of his face screwed up with the effort of fucking her, of that wicked mouth. It's so innocent looking now, his lips full and soft looking, yet she knows the sharpness of his teeth behind them.
She shakes the thoughts away. She wants to focus on him now.
“What?” He cocks his head.
“Nothing.” She takes another sip, searching for something to say. Really, she'd like to ask him about himself and his life. She wants to know everything about him. But perhaps it will seem too invasive. He is a strange concoction of contradictions. Quiet, thoughtful, considerate, one moment and then the next something seems to snap and there is that wildness, an insatiable need to consume her. It keeps her on her toes, keeps her guessing. “I forgot to tell you: I got the pitch.”
He nods. “Congratulations. I'm pleased for you, Alice.”
“I'm working my butt off, but it is worth it. I think the pitch is going to be amazing. We've got these fab visuals and, if I do say so myself, some really innovative ideas.”
