You're Soaked For Me

Her fingers moved to his belt buckle. When the metal clinked loose and his trousers slid to his thighs, she looked up at him once, her gaze full of mischief and heat, and then reached inside his boxers.

His body jerked slightly when she freed him, hard and ready, already pulsing in her hand. She gave a soft chuckle and leaned in to press a kiss on the tip, tasting him slowly. A growl rumbled from Alex's throat, and his fingers curled against the wall.

She took her time, lavishing him with attention, her lips teasing and her tongue trailing every line of him. He let out a shaky exhale, his jaw clenched tightly as her mouth closed around him, taking him deeper. His thighs tensed as her hands gripped the back of them, her fingernails biting gently into his skin.

He looked down at her and he couldn't believe how undone he was by her.

Her moans, low and intentional, vibrated through him. His other hand slid into her hair without thinking.

And then she gagged slightly.

"Fuck! Shit!" Alex growled, jerking back with a breathless laugh. His pupils were blown wide.

He gripped her waist and yanked her upright, hoisting her. Her dress slid up as he pressed her against the wall, and she gasped, legs instinctively wrapping around him for balance.

His mouth hovered near her ear, his breath ragged. "You're soaked for me," he rasped. He nudged at her entrance and the moment he felt her slick heat welcome him in, he groaned again, a single, guttural "Fuck."

Eva clenched his shoulders, burying her face against his neck. She didn't trust her voice. The sheer hunger with which he moved inside her, each thrust a claim, made her feel dizzy and drunk on him. Her body was no longer hers—it had been hijacked by fire, by ache, by him.

But Alex—his legs trembled from the strain of holding her up, and he cursed under his breath before moving. "Hold on," he warned, stumbling with her in his arms, and then easing them onto the plush leather couch behind them.

Her body sank onto his.

Eva steadied herself and began to move. Her dress, caught between them, bunched annoyingly. She tugged it in frustration, but Alex beat her to it.

"Off," he growled, and yanked it over her head, tossing it blindly to the floor. His eyes feasted on the full view of her. The sight made his breath catch. "God, you're unreal."

Her breasts bounced freely as she rode him with growing confidence, and he couldn't help himself—he reached up and caught both in his palms, kissing one, then the other, murmuring things against her skin she couldn't fully understand but felt deep in her bones.

Just as Eva felt herself spiraling into release, her muscles tightening around him, Alex felt it too.

"Wait—" he said, gripping her hips to still her. "Not yet."

Eva gasped, breath shallow and desperate. "No… please. No."

Her entire body was trembling, perched on the edge of release, every nerve ending alight and begging. But Alex only groaned, his lips trailing between the curve of her breasts as though savoring the moment.

"You cannot fuck anyone else like this," he murmured against her skin, the warmth of his breath setting off a fresh shiver. "You are mine."

His words struck her in a place she hadn't dared let anyone touch—not even herself.

"You are not going to cum until I tell you to," Alex added.

"Alex…" she gasped.

But he only smiled, wicked and satisfied, then pulled out of her. "I'll take you on a date first."

Her eyes popped open. "Wait, what?"

"Tomorrow. Dinner." He was already standing, grabbing his trousers off the floor and dressing. "I'll make reservations."

"What is this?" she snapped, glaring at him from her perch on the couch arm. "Some kind of twisted power play?"

"Don't pout, darling," he said as he tucked his shirt into his pants, wincing slightly at his still rock-hard erection. "Both of us get to suffer." He gestured down to his very real problem. "See? Fair play."

Eva groaned, nearly stamping her foot and stood abruptly. "I'm going to take a shower," she declared, snatching up her discarded dress.

Alex gave her a devilish wink. "Good night."

"Fuck you!" she spat before storming toward the bedroom.

The door slammed shut behind her with a satisfying thud.

Alex chuckled under his breath as he adjusted the cuff of his shirt. "This should be fun."

*****

Alex arrived at his townhouse in Tribeca just before the one-hour deadline he had been granted. The quiet luxury of Franklin Street greeted him—the cobblestone pavement damp from a brief summer drizzle, the glow of vintage-style streetlamps reflecting softly on sleek black cars parked along the curb. His smart key clicked open the townhouse's brass-trimmed glass doors. Inside, the scent of cedarwood diffuser lingered in the air.

He hadn't even made it halfway up the staircase when a blur of small limbs and boundless energy launched at him.

"Daddy!!!" the little voice rang out.

Alex chuckled, catching the seven-year-old mid-leap with practiced ease, balancing him effortlessly on his hip. "Hey, champ!" he said, planting a kiss on the boy's forehead. His son smelled faintly of lavender shampoo and peanut butter crackers.

"I waited for you!" the boy beamed, his small hands gripping his father's shirt.

Alex smiled softly. "I'm glad you did. Did anything fun happen today?"

"No," the boy huffed dramatically, "Betty didn't let me play games." His lower lip jutted out in a well-practiced pout.

Alex raised a single brow as he carried him toward the open-plan living room, where warm amber lights bathed minimalist furniture. "Oh really?"

"I played only a bit," he confessed.

Alex chuckled. "Yes, and we still have to stick to your screen time. Remember? Your brain needs rest too."

"But my thumbs are not tired," the boy argued solemnly, holding up his tiny thumbs.

Alex let out a laugh and dropped onto the plush couch with the boy still on his lap. "Your thumbs may be invincible, but how about this—we play one game, and then you hit the sack?"