Page 87 of Dissonance

She stands between my legs, letting her cardigan drop to the floor before she reaches for the hem of her top, lifting it slowly over her head. She knows exactly what she’s doing—the slight tilt of her chin, the deliberate pace of it—and I am entirely at her mercy and don’t care one single bit.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” I rasp.

The corner of her mouth curls up and she slows it down further, just to make it worse. When she’s finally standing in nothing but lace, I let myself look. The swell of her chest, the soft roundness of her stomach, the way she meets my eyes without hiding a single thing.

All fucking mine.

My hand tightens on my thigh, jaw clenching as I look at her, my mind pulling in two different directions. Take control, take my time. Make it last. Or let go.

“Take it off,” I say quietly. “All of it. Let me see all of you.”

She reaches behind her, unclasping her bra. I don’t blink, committing every detail to memory like a man who already knows he’ll spend the rest of his life proving he deserves this. Her.

Her full tits spill free, nipples already hard and begging for my mouth. Her panties follow, the cleft of her cunt already glistening with her arousal. My mouth waters, the urge to sink to my knees and taste every inch of that perfect pussy making my balls throb.

Dragging a hand down my face, I shift, exhaling hard. “Jesus, lass.”

I reach across the sofa for one of the pillows and toss it to the floor between my feet, before shoving my trousers and underwear down, kicking them aside. Fisting my cock, I exhale slowly, my head dropping back for just a second, my thumb swiping through the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Come here.”

She doesn’t hesitate, moving between my spread legs and lowering herself as I adjust the cushion beneath her knees, making sure it’s right, that she’s comfortable—always her first—but the second she looks up at me from that position, every coherent thought I had dissolves completely.

My hands slide into her hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, gathering them back from her face.

“Take your time,” I murmur, tracing her lower lip. “Let me enjoy watching this pretty mouth.”

She holds my gaze as her hands slide up my thighs, lips parting when she’s level with my cock. That pink tongue swipes along the tip, making me groan. My head drops back for the briefest second before I snap it upright, not wanting to miss any of this. She does it again, that slow drag along that thin line on the underside of my cock, completely in control.

At the first pull of her lips, the tight, wet heat of her throat as she takes me into her mouth, I nearly lose it. My eyes slam shut, a rough breath tearing out of me, my hand tightening in her hair.

“Thea—” My voice doesn’t sound like mine.

She hums around me, the vibration traveling straight down my spine. I freeze, holding completely still, because if I move, I’ll lose it too fast. It’s too much, too fucking much, yet my hips twitch anyway, a shallow, involuntary thrust, chasing the feeling before I can think better of it.

I drag in a breath, force my eyes open, and that’s a mistake. Lashes stick together, lips shine as they stretch around me, the slow, deliberate movement of her hand keeping pace like she’s in no hurry at all. And in the window behind her, her reflection in the darken panes—the arch of her back, the slow roll of her hips, her thighs pressing together, toes curling into the floorboards like she’s feeling every second of this too—she’s fucking stunning.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” I grind out, rougher, barely holding on. “Just like that.”

My hips move again, a little harder this time. There’s no rhythm to hold on to anymore as she takes me apart piece by piece, rocking up into her mouth until everything pulls taut, and I snap.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—”

A low, broken sound drags out of me, my release hitting hard, head tipping back against the sofa. She works me through every second, milking every drop, not pulling away until I’m completely spent.

Her breath is still uneven when she finally pulls away, lips swollen, hair a mess from my hold, eyes glassy and unfocused. She barely has time to react before I’m moving, hands under her arms, lifting her until her thighs bracket mine.

I cup the back of her head, bringing her lips down to mine, tasting myself on her. She melts against me, whimpering into my mouth, and my free hand maps the front of her body, between the valley of her tits, fingers playing with one of her nipples, rolling it until she moans and rocks against nothing.

I keep moving down until I’m between her legs, the inside of them soaked with her arousal. With a groan, my fingers sink into her sweet cunt, her legs shaking as I start to fuck her slowly. She rolls her hips, riding my hand, chasing it like she can’t get enough, each curl of my fingers bringing her closer to the edge.

She breaks the kiss, head tipping back, nails digging into my shoulders.

“Lockie— I—” she pants. “Oh, God.”

“That’s it,” I murmur against her throat, her jaw, her collarbone. “Use me.”

Latching onto her nipple, I bite, crossing the line between pleasure and pain, making her cry out. Her pussy clamps around my fingers, pulsing and spasming, lips parted on a silent scream as she rides it out, wave after wave of unadulterated ecstasy moving through her. I watch every second of it. Don’t blink, don’t look away until eventually she slumps forward, forehead against my chest, breathing in short, scattered bursts.