Page 96

MARISELA

I didn’t know what his angle was. If Adrian honestly thought he could nudge me down the aisle one orgasm at a time. Like it really was that easy…

Though I had to admit I did miss it. The euphoria, the feeling of being weightless even for a few minutes. Not enough to give into his ridiculous demands but enough to enjoy his method of persuasion.

The thing was… I could be persuasive too.

I waited until I heard the water running in the other room, listening for the click of the shower stall before I slid off the bed and crept closer to the door.

He hadn’t bothered shutting it all the way.

Which meant either he wanted me to be able to hear him or he wanted to be able to hear me.

It didn’t matter. I wasn’t trying to escape.

Not when everything I was looking for was right in front of me.

Standing bare-assed under the rainfall showerhead, his cock in his hand as he gave it several long strokes.

One palm pressed flat against the glass and both eyes trained on me.

As if he’d been expecting me to find him.

Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he just enjoyed the idea of being caught.

Of being watched the way he used to watch me.

Dr. Lambert wasn’t just a voyeur; he was an exhibitionist too. The kind of man who probably stared at himself as he jerked off in the mirror.

With each step I took, he stroked himself again, from base to tip, following my movements as I opened the stall door and closed us inside.

“Marisela, you shouldn’t get your sutures wet,” he groaned at the same time I dropped to my knees and he grabbed on to the back of my head to hold me there.

He tasted like soap and sweat. Like looking backward and falling forward, and I felt just as stuck between who I was when I was with him and who I was trying to be without him.

Sucking cock shouldn’t have been as transcendent and self-reflective as it was. I shouldn’t have liked it as much either, but here we were. Tonsil-deep and gagging on awareness.

I pulled back, looking up at him through my lashes, my mouth a breath away from the tip so he could feel it when I spoke. “If you come, it all stops now. You sign everything over to me. No more games, no more manipulations.”

He quirked a brow, his thighs already trembling beneath my touch. “And if I don’t? If your jaw gives out before my cock, what does that get me, little lamb?”

“My cooperation,” I groaned, taking him all the way down again. Not stopping until I was half-swallowing, half-choking while he was fully seated against the muscles of my throat.

“I want more than that, Marisela,” he hissed.

I released him just long enough to reply. “I don’t have more to give.”

Adrian slapped his palms on each side of the stall, his head tipped back as hot water pelted his face.

His dark hair sticking to his forehead and droplets following the trail along his chest over to the tattoo that had been added there since the last time we were completely naked in a room together.

That stupid nickname mocking me as the stream continued to cascade down the folds of his abdominal muscles before slipping along his thighs and dripping off his knees.

“You have everything to give and I want it all,” he countered. And then he was lost to the sensation of my tongue flicking against his tip, my mouth clamping shut and sucking him down like the straw I dropped into my rum and Coke every day at lunch.

Instead of bubbles, though, I chugged the first beads of his precum.

And he flexed his ass cheeks when I bobbed forward, releasing all the tension as I drew back.

Repeating the process over and over again until he was fucking my face more than I was blowing him.

Faster and faster. His grunts mixing with the sounds of the glass squeaking beneath his fingertips and the tile floor scraping against my kneecaps. His labored breaths and my quick pants.

I reached out a hand, cupping his balls while tears formed at the corners of my eyes.

He was close. I recognized all the signs.

The way his brows knitted, his abs clenched, the pads of his feet rocking back and forth and his cock thickening between my lips.

And just when I thought it was coming, when I thought he was coming…

Nothing. The fucker was toying with me. Faking it. I didn’t know that was even a thing…

He dropped his hands from the glass, grabbed onto the sides of my head and started thrusting harder.

Deeper. His lips tipped up into a lopsided grin as he forced my nose closer and closer to his pelvic bone.

My face pressed so tight against him I couldn’t breathe from my nostrils or my mouth.

And he held me there, making quick jerking motions with his hips that had him barely moving while my jaw was locked in place.

I clawed at his thighs, losing traction as my bare feet slid against the wet tiles until I was simultaneously choking and drowning beneath the shower spray. Waterboarded by the same furnishings I’d picked out and hired a contractor to install.

I didn’t know if that was irony or just an odd fleeting thought as my oxygen level depleted and a sort of giddiness replaced it.

Adrian wrapped a hand around my hair and tugged me upright before twisting me around and pressing me up against the fogging glass.

Entering me in one fast thrust that had me balancing myself on my toes.

Except I wasn’t balancing at all. He was holding me there.

Supporting me and smothering me as my lungs tried to suck down the hot, thick air.

“Don’t ever underestimate how much I want you, Marisela.

All of you,” he mumbled next to my ear, closing his teeth around the lobe and biting down hard enough to mark me.

“Not just a part of you. Not just what you want to show the world. All the broken shards. All the ugliness you keep to yourself. I want every depraved piece of you. I want to taste it, savor it and worship it until you have no choice but to do the same.”