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Chapter Eight

A urora

Tate’s hands slide over my hips and shove my dress down my legs. His palms rub against my skin—fingers splayed, tips dragging behind so deeply it almost hurts.

I’m lightheaded despite being anchored in the moment, and every sense is overstimulated.

The air is thick and musky, making it hard to breathe, and Tate’s breath on my neck feels like flames licking my core. My thighs are sticky.

It’s too much. It’s also not nearly enough.

“Breathe,” Tate whispers into my ear. “You have to breathe, gorgeous.”

I exhale, releasing the breath I’ve been holding.

How am I even here?

I never expected to find such a … stimulating experience again, and especially not with a man so much younger than I am. With so much more experience, too, it seems. A man who doesn’t even know my real name.

I’m about to fuck a man I’ll never see again after tonight.

Who am I?

“Step out of your dress,” he says, brushing my hair across my shoulder. “Heels stay on.”

I step one foot and then the other, holding his hand for balance.

“Now turn around and face me.”

Tate boldly rakes his eyes over the length of my body as I face him. His gaze is slow and seductive, and I can almost feel it slide over my curves. It’s as if he’s mentally photographing every dip and freckle, cataloging them like precious goods.

“Fuck, Kel. You’re even sexier than I imagined.”

I’m intoxicated, high on hits of dopamine.

I somehow forgot that I could elicit this type of reaction from a man. I’d gotten comfortable with the idea of being forty, and that no man would find me young and beautiful. It never crossed my mind that someone would ever still see me like the twentysomething I feel I am on the inside.

Until now.

“My God,” he says, licking his bottom lip. His eyes finally lift to mine, and they’re hooded. The corner of his lips curls into a devious grin as he takes a few steps back. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

I swallow through the constriction in my throat and take one step toward him. Then another, bolstered by his reaction. Each movement is deliberate—the click of my heel, shift of my weight, jiggle of my breasts. He watches me with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving my body.

My hands skim beneath his shirt and discover a wall of muscle. They roam up to his chest and over his shoulders, appreciating every ridge and valley of his chiseled physique. He flexes against my touch, sending a shiver down my spine.

Tugging the shirt over his head, I expose his body inch by delicious inch, causing me to squeeze my thighs together as I witness, for the first time, the epitome of male perfection. Damn.

“I’ve only seen bodies like this online, and I swore it was all photoshopped,” I say, openly gawking.

“And you haven’t even gotten to the best part,” Tate says, winking.

I grab his waistband and yank him to me.

“Getting aggressive, Miss Kapowski?” he asks, watching me undo his belt.

The name makes my stomach knot, and I wish I could correct him. I’d love nothing more than to hear him call me Aurora. It would make this that much hotter, and I’d feel far less guilty. I’m giving him my body, but I can’t give him my real name?

I can’t fix this now. There’s no way. Besides, by this time tomorrow, he’ll only be a memory. What does it really matter?

“Does my aggressiveness intimidate you?” I tease.

“Oh, no. Please don’t hurt me. That would be awful ,” he deadpans.

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

His chuckle cuts through me like a hot knife. “I think you misunderstand this situation.”

“What makes you say that?” I slide his belt out of his pants and toss it to the side. Then I palm his cock through his pants and look up at him. “This is kind of hard to misunderstand, isn’t it?”

His hand covers mine, his fingers pressing mine harder against him.

“The part you don’t seem to comprehend is that I’m here to please you,” he says.

His eyes, aroused, are more green than blue.

“Whatever gets you off is what I’m into.

” He leans forward until his lips hover above mine.

“Don’t be confused about that, either. Because, by morning, you will know every way you can come. ”

Good God.

I suck in a breath as he pulls away from my face.

His words stoke the inferno sizzling inside me, a fire that’s hotter and brighter than I’ve ever felt before. Life is breathed into me again. Each touch, word, and look brings me closer to a version of myself I thought was long gone, having faded away with my failed relationships.

My hands tremble as I unfasten his pants. The hiss of his zipper kisses the air as I lower it one tooth at a time. It’s a moment pregnant with anticipation and thick with tension, and I focus on the proximity of my hand to his cock.

Tate’s fingers brush across my cheek before he turns, removing his socks and shoes, and then his pants and briefs.

His back ripples with each movement, each muscle flexing and pulling in a spectacular show just for me.

Finally, he turns to me with his cock in his hand, and my eyes instinctively follow the movement.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

He strokes himself from root to tip. A bead of pre-cum has already gathered on the head. His shaft is thick and nearly as long as his hand— and I want it inside me .

“I think you’re the one misreading this situation,” I say.

“Really?”

“You don’t seem to comprehend that I want you to bury yourself inside me.” I lift a brow. “ Now .”

His eyes widen, and a slow smile splits his lips. “Get over here.”

He cups my face with both hands a split second before his mouth covers mine. It happens so fast that I’m unprepared. I gasp a breath before slinging my arms over his shoulders and running my fingers through his hair, melting into him .

His lips are soft and full, and each kiss is demanding and intentional. They press and glide against mine—guiding them in a dance that feels like we’ve practiced many times before. His tongue slips into my mouth, parting my lips as if he owns them.

I whimper and sag against him.

A dizzying current rushes through my veins and coalesces in the apex of my thighs.

“Tate,” I moan as he presses kisses along my jaw.

He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. My heels drop to the floor, and his cock slides against my pussy, taunting it. Taunting me. My head falls back as I thrust my hips against him, begging for friction. Contact. Relief .

“You promised me orgasms,” I say, moaning every time the head of his dick touches my clit.

“Do you want to come on my face or cock first?” He carries me into the bedroom, nipping my bottom lip between kisses. “Tell me.”

I shake with anticipation and from the forwardness of his question. I’ve never been asked this before. Sex has never been about me, and I’ve certainly not been given options.

“Face,” I say, as mine turns red.

“Excellent choice.”

He kisses me long and hard before tossing me on the bed. I squeal, the sound turning into laughter that’s silenced by Tate crawling across the mattress like a predator on the prowl.

My belly tightens as he comes to a stop in front of me.

“You have the best tits I’ve ever seen,” he says, holding them in his palms. “Perfect shape. Perfect weight.” He flicks one nipple with his tongue, and it beads for him immediately. “So responsive.”

I hold the back of his head as he sucks the bud through his lips. The warmth and wetness of his mouth against my breast, and his fingers lightly pinching the other, disarms me. I slip a hand between my legs and gasp at how wet and hot I really am.

“ Stop .” He pulls back, gripping my wrist and withdrawing it from my groin. His eyes blaze. “Don’t.”

“I’m desperate,” I say, shivering.

“All of your orgasms are mine tonight.” He lies down, his head flat on the bed. His cocks stands at full attention. “Get over here and ride my face until you come.”

His words alone nearly make me come undone.

“Are you sure you won’t smother to death from this?” I ask.

“Can’t think of a better way to go out.”

I roll my eyes as I reach him.

“Straddle me and grab the headboard,” he says.

My brain screams, and I can hear the echo, but even that doesn’t stop me from putting one knee on either side of Tate’s head.

“If I die,” he says, grinning, “just know I went out at the peak of my existence.”

“Shut up,” I say, laughing.

“You can shut me up by sitting down and grinding your pussy on me.”

Ho-ly fuck. I’m really doing this.

I look down to see his eyes are nearly feral.

You only live once …

I grip the headboard with both hands and hover over Tate. His tongue parts me, licking a long, lazy stroke through my pussy.

“ Oh God .” I shudder.

It’s been too long. There’s too much pent-up sexual frustration to make this last. I’m on the verge of spiraling over the edge, and we’ve only just begun. I’m too close to breaking into a million pieces to worry about what I’ll look or sound like when I lose control.

“Take your time.” Tate’s fingers bite into my thighs. “We’re in no hurry.” He drags his tongue through me again. “I’m happy to lie here and eat you all night. This is all about you .”

“This is all about you.”

God.

I close my eyes and begin to move my hips, rocking back and forth in the most delicious, leisurely motion. Tate matches my rhythm with his tongue, stroking against my swollen flesh.

“ This is so good ,” I say, the pleasure so intense it’s nearly pain.

His palms move to my ass, massaging my cheeks and pulling me tighter to his face. I lower myself just a touch, enough to increase the friction by a hairsbreadth. It’s perfection—just the right amount of pressure to make me delirious and hold me back from descending into orgasmic bliss.

The thought of Tate’s mouth on my pussy—the sounds of him kissing and stroking my slit like it’s a fucking dessert—makes my head spin.

“Just like that.” I rock harder against him, my head falling back. “Fuck me just like that.”