Page 60 of Sacred Vow

TILLY

M y gaze remains locked on the countdown timer that’s called my phone’s lockscreen home for the past few weeks, counting down the exact second until it’s officially been six weeks since Jordan swung a baseball bat against my head and almost killed me.

That night, the doctor told me that it could be up to six weeks for my body to fully recover from the ordeal, and after Annie almost had me gang raped at Vixen, Caesar decided to take that six weeks seriously, not only to give my body a chance to heal, but to give my mind the time it needed as well.

Though, truth be told, I don’t know if any amount of time is going to magically erase the fear I felt during both of those instances, but just knowing that Caesar has my back and will always hold me through whatever I need has helped more than he’ll ever truly know.

I sip on my Moscato, my legs crossed beneath the bar as Caesar sits across the VIP floor, his gaze so heavy on mine that I feel it like lasers on my back, roaming over my skin as though he’s picturing the very way he wants to peel my outfit off me, piece by piece.

Resisting him over these past weeks has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and if it weren’t for graduating college, officially moving out of my apartment, and starting a new job in my field as a junior child psychologist, I surely would have cracked.

He’s been my whole world and has more than proven that we have so much together beyond our sexual relationship.

He worships me, treats me like his queen, and gives me the support every woman has ever dreamed of finding in her man.

He makes me feel alive, valued, and beautiful, while also being the one to make my body scream with undeniable need.

He’s the whole damn package, and I’ve never been so lucky to call someone mine.

There’s no denying it. I love him more than my own life.

It’s almost comical to think we could have ever made it through without breaking that ridiculous little vow. We were doomed from the moment our eyes met across this very club.

With thirty seconds left of our countdown, I swivel on the barstool, turning to face Caesar directly.

His gaze is locked on mine before I’ve even made myself comfortable, and I let my thighs open just a fraction, showing him that I accidentally forgot my underwear.

I quickly cross my legs and lift my Moscato to my lips as though I didn’t just bring him to his knees.

His eyes blaze with a fiery need, and as a deep ache appears in my core, I squeeze my thighs, desperately trying to find relief, but this isn’t my first rodeo.

When it comes to Caesar Di Rozé, the only relief I will ever get is when his mouth is closed over my cunt and his tongue is driving me wild.

Fifteen seconds.

My heart races, and my palms begin to grow sweaty just taking in the intensity in his dark eyes. I don’t know how he does it. He’s too much. Too wild. Too incredible. I’ve more than met my match.

Needing him to feel the pressure the same way I am, I let my finger dance across skin, gently brushing past my collarbone and down through my cleavage, watching the way his gaze tracks every single movement.

He’s on the edge, just as I am. The only question is, who breaks first?

Five seconds.

My chest starts to heave as he adjusts himself in his seat, taking hold of his whiskey and lifting it to his lips, finishing off what’s left in his glass. His jaw clenches, his free hand balling into a fist, and just as my fingers drop to the apex of my thighs—

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I grin.

The sound of my alarm rocks through my chest, and even from across the club, I know he hears it just as loudly as I do. We’ve both waited on bated breath for this moment.

The anticipation is nearly killing me, and just as I lean back toward the bar and silence my alarm, Caesar gets to his feet, more than ready to stride over here and get the show on the road. Only, I can’t possibly resist the urge to tease him.

Placing my empty glass down on the bar, I hold Caesar’s stare and get to my feet, watching the exact moment his brow arches in question.

This isn’t part of our usual routine. He comes to get me and leads me away to an unknown place full of secrets and desire, but tonight, it’s not going to be that easy.

A wicked smirk cuts across my face, and as he strides closer, I shift my attention to the delicious man sitting at the opposite end of the bar.

He’s been trying to get my attention for the past twenty minutes but failing miserably.

Though that’s not his fault, he’s certainly gorgeous, the kind of man any woman would want one wild night with in a spicy club, but with Caesar in my life, there’s no competition.

I stride right up to him, and as I get closer, he gets to his feet, rising to his full height.

I have to admit, it’s impressive. “Hi,” I say with a flirty smile, almost feeling bad that I’m playing him, but every game must have a pawn, and unfortunately for him, he’s mine tonight.

Though I don’t feel that bad. With his boyish smirk and dreamy eyes, he’ll find another girl in no time.

His hand immediately falls to my waist, and I have to give him credit, he’s bold. I like that in a man. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“What’s your name?” I ask, my gaze sweeping over him, not because I really care that much, but because I feel Caesar getting closer and know that my eyes on another man would be driving him insane.

“I’m Jarrod,” he murmurs, inching closer. “And you?”

Caesar’s hand snaps around the base of my throat, and I smile as his thumb brushes over my jaw, forcing me to turn my full attention back on him. “Mine,” he growls, making my knees go weak.

He steps in so close that I don’t even see Jarrod around him, don’t even know if he’s still there. All that matters is getting closer, feeling his body against mine, tasting his lips, and letting him drown me in nothing but pure, unadulterated pleasure.

His lips come down on mine, kissing me deeply as his strong arm weaves around my back, holding me up, and with every swipe of his tongue into my mouth, the desire grows until it’s pooling between my thighs.

“Awww, hellcat,” he groans against my lips, his eyes full of fire. “I’m going to fuck that attitude right out of you.”

“Take me,” I beg.

Caesar lifts me into his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my lips locked onto his, not even caring where he’s taking me.

He could fuck me right here in front of Jarrod, and I wouldn’t even care, just as long as that thick, long cock was buried inside me, everything would be right in the world.

He takes me to one of his favorite private booths, and when he settles me on my feet, I expect him to whisk me away, to drag me down to the floor and have his wicked way with me.

Only he pulls away from me, leaving me desperately panting as he moves across the small booth and casually sits down, acting as though he’s not as desperate for me as I am for him.

I stand as he makes himself comfortable on the cushion, his knees spread as he relaxes back, looking as though he has all the time in the world. Though I suppose he does. There’s no rush here. We can take all night and into the morning if we need.

“Strip for me,” he rumbles in that deep, intoxicating tone.

A grin cuts across my lips, and as I stand before him, I lift my fingers to my shoulder, pinching the thin strap of my silk top. “You mean like this?” I ask in a shy tone, though he and I know damn well there’s not a shy bone in my body.

I start pushing it off my shoulder, watching as Caesar tracks the movement, nodding his head as a growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest. “Yes, hellcat. Just like that.”

The fabric falls until the strap catches at my elbow, exposing the full curve of my breast, and just because I know how much he loves it, I brush my fingers over my exposed skin, my nipple pebbled and wanting, desperate for his undivided attention.

Moving across to the other side, I push the other thin strap down just as slowly, and once it falls, I let the rest of the silky top go with it, exposing my whole top half. “More?” I ask.

“Yes.”

My fingers skim across my breast, trail down over the curve before dropping to my waist. My heart races as I find the delicate zipper of my black miniskirt. “This too?”

“Remove it.”

My tongue rolls over my bottom lip, my core pulsing with a deep need as I slowly pull the zipper down before finally hooking my fingers into the top and pushing it down over my hips.

Only as it lowers, I slowly turn, facing away from him as my breath catches in my throat.

Then, glancing over my shoulder and watching him intently, I start to bend, lowering the miniskirt right to the ground until my fingers are at my toes, and his heated gaze is locked right on my center.

Caesar groans, adjusting his cock in his pants, and I grin, but as I start to make my way toward him, he shakes his head, bringing me to a dead stop as that wicked gaze roams over my naked body.

“Crawl to me.”

Well shit.

I drop to my knees as though his words were a command, and without skipping a beat, I crawl to him, giving him exactly what he wants. For a moment, I thought I won this round, but I realize that I haven’t won a damn thing. I might be playing the game, but Caesar is the one pulling the strings.

Slowly making my way to him, I don’t stop until I’m right between his open thighs, my hungry stare locked on his as I bite down on my bottom lip, patiently awaiting his eager instructions.

“Good girl,” he praises, making the wildest thrill shoot through me as he reaches forward and grabs my chin, his fingers so soft against my skin. “Now, worship me like I’m your fucking God.”

Shit. The way he commands me. I’d give it all up for this man. I’d give my whole fucking life just for this moment right now.