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Everything between my thighs tingles, begging for me to touch, but I hold off. I open my mouth wide just as Ezra’s fingers tangle in my hair, jerking my head back as he sits up straighter so he can slide his cock back and forth over my tongue.

He does this a few more times, getting himself slick, and his voice is a quiet rasp when he repeats the same command from earlier: “Suck.”

I close my lips around him, but it’s immediately clear I’m no longer in charge of the pace. He pulls me close so that his cock can slide deeper into my mouth, and I have to breathe through my nose as it pushes far enough to almost slip into my throat. I will myself not to gag, to prove that I can take whatever he gives me, like this too is some sort of competition between us—but I can’t be sure who’s actually winning when Ezra is making those animalistic sounds above me.

“Fuck,” he grates, working me over his cock in a deep, slow slide that seems to build with every press of his hand against the back of my head. “You were made for my cock, Dani.”

His praise spurs me on, and I tug against his grip on my hair to take him to the root, my nose brushing against the coarse hair at the base.

“Fuck,” he moans. “So good for me, baby. You’re so fuckingperfect.”

There’s that sensation in my chest again at the endearment, like my heart is doing a barrel roll. That paired with his praise has me preening beyond all reason. It’s something I’ve never admitted to anyone, even myself—but his praise in moments like this touches something inside me that rarely sees the light of day. Something that makes me feel like I’mnotsomeone who ruins lives and messes everything up. Something that makes me feel like maybe Ishouldtrust someone else again. Something only Ezra has ever made me feel. Maybe that’s why I never allow myself to acknowledge it. If I get used to it…it’s going to be that much more devastating when it ends.

He’s still fully clothed with only an open shirt and unbuttoned pants, and seeing him so done up and yet soundonehas my pussy throbbing and my skin humming with want. I can’t resist slipping my fingers under my leggings and underwear, rolling the swollen bundle of my clit in quick circles that I know won’t have me lasting very long.

I’m still letting him move me how he wants, letting him drag my mouth up and down his cock like his own personal toy, and I should feel degraded, should feel used by the way I’mallowinghim to use me, but all I feel is his desperation for me, hisneed—and that in turn makes me feel like all the weight I’ve been carrying around, the guilt…It makes me feel like it belongs to someone else. Even if just for this moment.

“Are you touching yourself?” His grip on my hair tightens, my scalp stinging slightly, but strangely, I like this too. “Are you going to come for me, baby? Gonna come with my cock in your throat?”

I can’t help it, moaning around him as he lets out a guttural groan from the sensation. My fingers work faster, working my slick clit fervently as he thrusts deep into my mouth. My eyes flutterclosed, and the minute darkness takes me, there’s a sharp tug at my hair as everything stops.

My eyes fly open to meet his, his breath ragged and his gaze dark as he stares down at me with his cock still half in my mouth.

“Your eyes,” he says shakily. “I want your fucking eyes when you come.”

Later I’ll analyze why I don’t fight him on it. Maybe later I’ll dissect why the walls I’ve built so carefully seem to be tumbling around me brick by brick. Right now though, all I can focus on is the slip of my fingers against my clit, the heavy weight of his cock as it slides against my tongue.

“That’s right,” he coos. “So good for me.” His lids droop with pleasure as his hips lift from the couch, thrusting into my mouth at a brutal pace that has my eyes watering and my pussy clenching around nothing. “Just for me,” he breathes. “You’re going to take it all, aren’t you? Every fucking drop.”

I nod mindlessly as that pressure between my legs expands to unbearable levels, teetering on the precipice of something mind-blowing as my vision blurs and my thighs shake.

“That’s it,” he exhales roughly. “That’s my girl.” His hips stutter and his body shakes. “Oh, fuck. Oh,fuck, baby, I—”

I feel the warm gush of him in my throat just as I feel something similar against my fingers, my entire body trembling as I continue to touch myself wildly just to prolong the sensation. Ezra is still moving erratically in and out of my mouth, making sounds that are almost inhuman as he empties deep inside. And through it all his gaze holds mine, forcing me to watch every flicker of emotion that passes through them as I swallow everything he gives me.

I wait for the regret to come, the shame, anything, but all I feelas Ezra stills in my mouth—his cock growing soft even as my tongue continues to move gently against it to make him shudder—is a boneless bliss that courses through every part of me, my mind deliciously blank. Even when he pulls out, his palm cupping my chin and his thumb rubbing my lip in that slow, sensual way that started all of this in the first place—I can’t rustle up even an ounce of remorse. It’s something else I’ll analyze later, I’m sure.

Ezra says nothing as his hands move to slip under my arms, pulling me up from the floor gently and tucking me against his chest as he falls back onto the couch, leaving me sprawled over him like a human blanket. His palm covers my hair until my face is buried against his throat, his fingers starting up that slow path through my hair that felt so overwhelming before. I wait for him to say something, or maybe for me to say something—but the silence that stretches on isn’t unbearable, like I feel it should be. It’s almost…comfortable.

Ezra reaches above his head and turns off the lamp to plunge us into darkness, all the while brushing his fingers through my hair in a soothing way that has my eyes growing heavy. Somewhere inside I know I should move us, that I should tell him to leave before we tangle ourselves up more than we already have—but I don’t do any of that. I know if either of us speaks, this moment is over. Maybe Ezra knows it too. Maybe that’s why he stays as quiet as I do. I press my face deeper into his throat, letting the remnants of his cologne soothe me in time with his still-combing fingers, choosing to say nothing at this moment, to just be and see where it leads.

As I drift off to sleep, I think that it’s just one more thing I’ll pick apart tomorrow, probably.

Fourteen

Dani

“Yes, I’m DanicaPierce. I’m here to see Bianca?”

I’m pressing the button at her gate much harder than necessary, letting my frustrations seep into the little plastic bit like it’s personally offended me. Which is completely unfair of me. It’s not thebutton’sfault I woke up this morning to an empty apartment and a cold couch and not even the bare minimum of a text explaining why the hell Ezra ghosted me. Last night was odd enough, but to wake up this morningalone—no note, no explanation, no nothing—stings. Which in turn just makes me angry. What the fuck was last night, and what the fuck was this morning?

I’m being stubborn and refusing to text him about it, waiting to see if he will first, but he doesn’t. Which has done nothing for my mood this morning. I’m not sure if I’m irritated or relieved to have the distraction of meeting with Bianca at her place for lunch; part of me is still considering marching down to Ezra’s office and demanding what the fuck happened, but it’s asmallpart. One thatis greatly overshadowed by another one shoutingNot in this lifetimeandHe can choke.

I ignore my traitor brain whisperingBut who was doing the choking last night?

My cheeks heat as I finally let up on the button, sure that if it were alive, it would be screaming by now.

“Mrs. Casiraghi is expecting you,” a rough, male voice says through the gate speaker in a clipped tone.