Page 32 of Enigma: The Final Chapter
I groan in disgust before I attempt to move off him. Jealousy is hitting me in the gut, brutally wounding me. He grips my thighs and pulls me back onto his lap. Huffing, I shift my gaze to the side of the room, striving to rope my jealousy back in. Even though it’s illogical to believe there was no one before me, I prefer to live with my head in the clouds when it comes to stuff like this. I hate the thought of Isaac with anyone else.Hate it. I can’t stand the idea of anyone experiencing what I’ve experienced with him.
Isaac grips my chin to carefully angle my head back to him. “You wanted to open this bag of worms, so we’re opening it.” He glances up at me with remorseful eyes. “I didn’t know you existed. If I had, I would’ve never stopped looking until I found you.”
The truth of his statement is relayed in his beautiful eyes. It eases my agitation and spreads warmth blooming across my chest.
“This will make me sound like a chauvinistic pig, and rightfully so, it should.” He inhales a quick breath. “Before you, they meant nothing. I simply saw women as a vessel for pleasure. Although they left my apartment satisfied, I wouldn’t have been bothered if they didn’t. I wasn’t with them to create memories. I was with them to release tension. When I achieved that, I left, leaving Catherine with the chore of kicking them out.”
You’d think his statement would cause virulent jealousy to resurface, but it doesn’t. His eyes are full of remorse, and he looks genuinely embarrassed for the way he behaved. I can also appreciate that he is not being evasive, even knowing he isn’t portraying himself in an amiable manner.
He's never hidden the fact he wasn’t looking for a relationship, so it’s understandable he saw sex as just that—sex. He wasn’t issuing false promises. He didn’t offer commitment. All he proposed was his body for the night. So although there may have been women before me, from now on, there will only be me.
“And I’ll never want or need anyone else,” Isaac mutters to my quiet ramblings. “I have a hard enough time keeping up with your insatiable demands to add anyone else into the mix.”
I cock my brow, faking annoyance. “I never heard a complaint seep from your lips.”
“And you never will,” he replies in a deep, provocative rumble.
Pleasure dashes down my spine when he tilts his hips, grinding his cock against my bare pussy.
“Your body was built to be pleasured, Isabelle, and I’m going to make sure it’s every whim and desire is taken care of for the rest of my life. This…” he gestures his hand between us, “…is different than anything I’ve experienced before. Iwantto pleasure you. Ilovepleasuring you. I’llneverstop pleasuring you.”
My heart skips a beat as my pussy pulses. “Can we start that pleasuring now?”
He smirks. “Is that your third and final question for the night?”
“If your answer is yes, it will be.”
He chuckles against my mouth before sealing his plump lips over mine.
The following morning, a groan erupts from my mouth as I lift my arms out of the comforter to stretch my tired muscles. My aching joints aren’t from sexual exhaustion. They're from sexual frustration. Although Isaac’s kisses alone have my orgasm dangerously dangling off a cliff, I crave more, but no matter how much I plead, Isaac won’t take our usually combustible encounters to the next level, afraid I may experience more of the side effects I’ve been suffering from since my concussion.
My muscles are aching because every fiber in my body is coiled tight, ready to snap, eagerly anticipating being unraveled by his talented fingers, tongue, and formidable male appendage. Before Isaac, sex was available, but I never saw it as a necessity. I could go months without it, and my inner vixen wasn’t hankering to seek out a mate. Whereas now, it’s like I’m a sex addict. I’m just not addicted to sex. I’m addicted to Isaac.
Dragging my fingers through my hair, I secure it into a messy bun before ambling out of the room to find Isaac. Unsurprisingly, I find him in his home office talking on his cell phone. He's dressed down in low-hanging blue jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. His feet are bare, and his hair is wet and overdue for a trim. When he spots me leaning in the doorjamb, his eyes rake my body before he gestures for me to enter. The spark of lust in his eyes has my pulse quickening and my steps hurried.
“Henry, I have to go. I’ll work something out and get back to you before the end of the week.”
Not waiting for Henry to reply, Isaac disconnects his call and throws his cell onto his desk. He looks tired, but I know it isn’t from lack of sleep. We secured eight hours last night. It’s stress from all the tumultuous tasks he’s undertaking.
I move around his desk, skirting past the hand he's holding out in offering to stand behind his office chair. I knead my palms into his shoulders, hoping to massage out some of the knots formed there. A tingle runs down my spine when a low growl seeps from Isaac’s lips.
“Does it feel good?”
He moans. “It always feels good when you’re touching me.”
A smile tugs on my lips as I continue working on his tension. Over time, the tightness of his shoulders lessens, and the worry lines on his face fade.
A girlie squeal whizzes from my lips when, in one swift movement, he spins around, seizes my wrist, and pulls me onto his lap. All immature giggling halts the instant he seals his mouth over mine. His kiss is lush, deep, and toe-curling good.
“I’ll have to start working from my home office more often,” he murmurs over my tingling mouth.
When he runs his index finger along the hemline of my cotton t-shirt, goosebumps track the path his finger makes. Our combined groans echo around his office when his finger slips off the material to fleetingly brush my bare pussy.
“I’m definitely working from home more often,” he reiterates, licking his lips.
Since I was eager to find him, I didn’t bother putting on any panties, leaving his room in only the short-sleeve shirt he dressed me in last night. When his eyes lift to mine, my libido awakens. There's an avid gleam in his eyes, exposing his usually impenetrable qualm is faltering.
I swivel my hips, shamelessly grinding my ass on his thickening cock. My head falls to his shoulder when his finger sinks into my pussy in one fluid motion. He keeps his strokes at a leisurely pace—gentle, yet tantalizing. Every hair on my body bristles, ecstatic he's finally touching me. It’s been weeks since his talented fingers have tightened the coils of my womb, so I’ll take them any way I can get them.
