Page 80 of The Client
“A little. But only so I can woo you,” he says with a smile.
“Keep going. It’s working.”
Walking into his room—our room—he closes the door and urges me forward, kissing the back of my neck as we unhurriedly make our way toward the bed.
It’s been a long day. After the show at Oakbrook, we took Eva on a spontaneous tour of the city, had dinner at an adorable Polish restaurant called Staropolska in Logan Square so Eva could get her pierogi fix, then stopped at a bakery for cinnamon rolls and lattes. Then we strolled the Riverwalk, and Eva relayed how hard Rhys had worked to convince Uncle Julian to allow Eva to make the trip to the U.S. Despite Eva showing him the McConnell EnterprisesandRhys’s personal Wikipedia pages, he refused to believe this wasn’t some sort of elaborate plot to trick him until Rhys flew out and brought him aboard the private jet.
He and Aunt Sofia will be flying on it to visit next month.
I can’t wait.
It feels good to be back in this house with Rhys…good, but different. Probably because I’m walking into it as a new woman. A free woman. One who has made the choice to be here with the man who loves me.
Maybe fairy tales do exist.
Rhys dims the lights and cups my face, looking into my eyes for a moment before kissing me. It’s slow and deep, the kind of kiss that makes me tingle all over. Losing myself in the feel of his lips, the stroke of his tongue, I sigh happily as he unzips my dress, which falls to the floor in a whisper of silk. It’s been too long since we’ve been together, and this is something I never thought I’d have again.
Giving in to my hunger, I kiss him harder, digging my fingers into his hair. He matches my pace as he unclasps my bra, which I pull off with trembling hands while he kisses his way over my throat, my collarbone, across my chest. His hands slide down my back, hot on my ass, pulling me against him so we’re hip to hip. I can practically feel the throb of his cock through his pants, and I stroke my palm over the bulge in the fabric, making him groan.
“Izabela,” he whispers over and over again between kisses, lighting tiny fires beneath my skin with every utterance.
I’m panting by the time he lowers me onto the bed in nothing but my thong, the crotch already soaked through.
“Why are you still dressed?” I ask, pouting out my lower lip.
“I won’t be for long,” he says, already unbuttoning his shirt.
In seconds, he’s climbing over me on the bed, naked and perfect, closing his mouth over mine. Lost in the kiss, I run my hands over every inch of skin, every muscle and curve. Biceps, shoulders, jaw, pecs, ass. When I wrap my hand around his thick cock, both of us moan. God, I’ve missed this so much.
I start to pull off my underwear, but Rhys stops me with his hand.
“Lie back and relax,” he says, rolling over to grab something from the nightstand.
Following his movements, I realize there’s a cupcake sitting there and I laugh.
“Is thatdessert?”
“You’re the dessert,” he says. “But I’ll let you have a taste.”
Picking up the cupcake, he licks a little frosting off the top and then kisses me again. A sweet, sugary bloom of pure vanilla fills my mouth.
“It’s good,” I tell him. “Give me more.”
Instead of giving me a bite, Rhys turns the cupcake and swipes the frosting against my neck. Yelping in surprise, I laugh as he dips his head and licks away the sweetness, but when he starts sucking on my skin, my laughs quickly turn to moans. He frosts me again, this time on my collarbone. By the time he’s done cleaning me up there, I’m a moaning mess, the pulse between my legs turning into a hot, demanding throb.
“Enough. I need you,” I say, reaching for his cock again.
“Not yet. This is fun.”
Dipping his finger into the icing, he swirls it over my left nipple and then covers the hard peak with his lips, his tongue, tugging gently with his teeth, making me writhe on the bed. When he’s done, I lock eyes with him and tap my right nipple, letting him know I want more.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
Dabbing my skin with the frosting and following it with his hot mouth, Rhys works his way down to my lower belly. When he finally peels off my thong and pushes my thighs wide, I drag my own finger into the last bit of frosting left, and then swirl it over my clit. Gazing up at him, I relish the way his eyes darken with lust, with need, but also with…something more.
After setting the cupcake back on the nightstand, he dives between my legs. As he licks the frosting off me with long, slow laps of his tongue, drawing wails of pleasure out of me, he strokes his cock, the precum glistening on the tip. I’m mesmerized by the sight, even as I dig my fingers into his hair, grinding my pussy against his mouth. Watching him get off on getting me off proves to be too much.
“Rhys,” I moan, and then I’m coming hard and fast, in blissful waves, his determined tongue thrusting deep into my hole, sending me higher and higher. “Rhys, fuck, yes,yes.”
