27. Slip of the Tongue - Jules
Jesus fucking Christ. He’s filling me with his fingers. I tighten my thighs around his shoulders as a flood of warmth gushes toward his expert tongue. Instead of keeping his pace, he slows his intimate kiss, lightens the strokes of his tongue. I want to growl in frustration because I’m almost there.
My nails are digging into my palms. With sheer willpower, I keep them at my sides. I’ll do anything he asks at this point. For weeks now, I’ve been unable to stop the eventual tumble down this rocky mountain. Saying no to Cash is impossible.
A breeze comes in through the window, making the curtains billow above the bed. The sounds of life outside our private bubble drift to my ears from beyond that window. Footsteps and chirping birds. Quiet conversations in the alley mingling with the drone of traffic from the freeway. There’s something especially erotic about spreading my thighs for Cash, unabashed in total nakedness as his tongue and fingers push me to madness in the middle of the day.
God, do I want to touch him.
I want to come again even more.
The fact that he brings that out in me is astonishing, but when I think of how strongly I’ve reacted to him from the beginning, I wonder why I’m so surprised. Deep down, I’ve known all along that sex with him would be mind-blowing.
Life-changing.
The chemistry between us is too powerful to be denied, and right or wrong, we’ve gravitated toward each other from the beginning.
He moans against my core, and the vibrations from his mouth make me arch into him. I know I’m whimpering, despite trying to hold it back. He’s driving me fucking insane.
“You’re so close, Jules.” Kissing my inner thigh, he slides his finger out of the one place no one’s ever been before pushing in once more.
Cash is a contradiction in bed—a seductive mixture of commanding and tender, deviant and traditional. I sensed the hidden layers underneath his CEO persona. He wears those suits like armor, cloaks himself in stringent responsibility that shelters the passion raging inside him. I can’t help but wonder if his wife made him retreat into himself. Did she make him bury all of that fiery passion? Or is it a part of him that only comes out for me? I want to believe it’s the latter.
Even more, I want to forget he has a wife. I shove that elephant into the dusty warehouse of my mind and lose myself to the sensation of his lips closing around my clit, gently sucking until I’m bowing over the bed again.
“Please,” I say, moaning as I thread my fingers through his hair.
He pulls back, and his stormy gaze pins me to the mattress. “I told you not to move your hands.”
“Don’t stop.” Reluctantly, I return them to the bed.
I want him so badly I’m about to burst with it. The more I fall into the vacuum of loving him, the more I realize there isn’t a line I won’t cross to be with him. Not anymore. Not after fighting to keep my distance and watching it all crumble the instant he touched me.
There are no lines left between us.
No boundaries.
No rights or wrongs.
No fucking shame.
Just him and me and this bed, and his fingers and mouth and the heat in his eyes sending a wrecking ball through the last of my resistance.
“I like watching you squirm,” he says, slowly withdrawing his fingers. “Do you have any idea how many times I thought about this? Hell, Jules. I jerked off to the fantasy of you in the bathroom the day I hired you.”
If I had a response, it scatters because his mouth is feasting between my thighs again. Between his tongue and fingers, it’s fucking sensation overload. I ball my hands to keep from moving them, but I’ve never wanted to grab someone’s head and hold them to me the way I do now.
It just isn’t enough. As much as his tongue is making me come unglued, I’m throbbing for his cock. My breasts ache for the hardness of his chest. I might go crazy if I don’t have him on top of me.
“I’m about to fall the fuck off the edge, Cash. I need you inside me.”
I want to open myself to him and let him live inside my heart. Deep down, I know he won’t break it. Despite the ring that’s still on his finger. Despite the complications in his life. I know he’ll protect my heart as fiercely as I’ll protect his.
The smile he gives me arrows straight to my soul. “Who can resist you when you talk like that?”
Grabbing my hips, he slams into me before I take my next breath. He drops his forehead against mine with a groan. But instead of closing his eyes, he pierces me with his thunderous stare, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. Pulling me deeper into the vortex of him.
“I love you.” The declaration is out of my mouth before I even thought of saying the words. Before I was ready to tell him. My cheeks flush hot as hell, and I veer my head away.
He tugs my face back to him until we’re gaze to gaze. “I’m so in love with you. Don’t doubt that for a second.” The fact that he says it in a raspy melody of need while our bodies are joined is somehow…everything.
My eyes fill with tears, on the verge of overflowing, just like my heart is, but I can’t find any fucks to give. All I find is the safety of our connection, the sizzle of his skin on mine as he buries himself in me.
“Jesus, Jules,” he groans, nipping at my lips. “I can’t get enough of you.” Arms shaking under the weight of everything crashing over us, he slows his thrusts, teasing me with the head of his cock.
“I need you.” My words tumble out in a continuous plea for more, and I arch my hips to bring him deeper.
“I’m right here,” he says, plunging home. “Everything I am is inside you.”
Holy hell.
His mouth eats up my soft cries as I writhe underneath him, powerless to stop. We come in a tidal wave of emotion, forehead to forehead.
Body to body.
Heart to heart.
He holds me as the fever calms and our heartbeats slow to a normal cadence. We don’t bother showering again, because when I look into his eyes, I know he’s going to take me until he can take me no more.
Fuck me until he’s had his fill.
Love me then leave me.
After a while, he sits at the edge of the bed and grabs his cell from the pocket of his discarded shorts. But his attention is on me instead of his phone. I prop myself up on elbow, unashamed of my nudity.
“Are you gonna leave?”
“I don’t want to leave you, Jules.”
“Then don’t.”
“I need you to know something,” he says as he turns his phone to silent. “I’m going to tell Monica I want a divorce.”
That was the last thing I expected him to say, and though it fills me with hope, part of me is skeptical. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Nothing matters to me as much as you do.” He’s watching me as if he’s ready to devour me all over again. He sets his phone next to my wilting sunflower bouquet, and my gaze flickers to the gold band on his finger.
Wordlessly, he takes off his wedding ring and sets it on the nightstand.