There’s no chance.

I want to be consumed.

I want to forget.

I want to move on to something that isn’t going to make me feel bad, but rather make me feel completely satisfied.

“Why do you want to do this?” I ask him, wanting to figure out where his head is at.

“I’m a giving man, Lottie, but my offer doesn’t last forever. There’s a time limit. It’s either a yes or a no.”

I bite my bottom lip while staring down at this man. I can practically feel him between my legs already, that coarse five o’clock shadow rubbing on my inner thighs, while his delicious mouth presses against my arousal.

I want it.

I need it.

I don’t want him anywhere else.

I nod, giving him the go-ahead, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he says, “From your mouth. I want to hear you say you want me between your legs.”

I wet my lips, my heart racing a mile a minute.

“I want you, Huxley, between my legs. Your tongue on my clit. I want to come on your mouth.”

His eyes darken and his hands slide up inside my robe and to the waistband of my thong. He drags it down and I lift up to help him pull it all the way off me. He drops it to the side, almost seeming insulted that I’d wear such a thing to dinner.

Exposed, I press my hands behind me, my robe still cinched tight at my waist, and I watch as his hands slowly crawl up my inner thighs. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at me; instead, he’s fixated on my center, slowly pushing my legs farther and farther apart until I’m completely open to him.

I don’t have to smooth my hand over my pussy to know I’m already wet. Just the thought of him being near me, in this position, turns me on.

His hands glide inward until his thumb gently connects with my clit. He passes over the nub a few times, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. “Wet, just as I expect you to be when around me,” he says as his thumb makes circles. “Were you wet at the pregnancy class when you were pulsing over my thick cock?”

Jesus Christ, no man has ever talked to me like this.

“Yes,” I answer honestly. “I was.”

“Did you play with yourself when you got home?”

I suck in a sharp breath as he places a kiss on my inner thigh. “I’ve played with myself every night since I’ve arrived at your house.”

His eyes meet mine. “I don’t hear you at night.”

“I make sure of it,” I say.

“Don’t.” He stops his fingers. “If you play with yourself at night, I want to fucking hear it. I want to hear your moans. I want to know that you’re satisfied.”

“Would you want to watch?”

His mouth presses another kiss, and another. “Yes. I’d watch.”

“Would you masturbate while you watched me?”

“It would be difficult not to, but no.”

“Why not?” I ask. His mouth is so close, I want to scream, but he goes to the other leg, his tongue lightly dragging over my pussy for a brief second before tending to my other thigh. I groan in frustration. He’s worked me up in a matter of seconds. It usually takes me a few minutes, but not with Huxley, not with the way he commands my body. Well, and the text messages from earlier. Just thinking about how I’d caused him to tug on the ties of my robe . . . makes me hot.

“I wouldn’t touch myself because the only way I’d want to come is inside of you.” And then his mouth descends on my clit and my back arches, the tie of my robe dangerously close to coming undone from my abrupt movement.

“Oh God, Huxley . . . yes.”

His tongue moves over my clit, circling it, applying just enough pressure to drive me mad.

“You taste like goddamn honey.” He sucks my clit into his mouth, pulling, teasing, making every bone in my body feel like mush.

“Jesus.” Before I can catch my breath, he slips two fingers inside of me. “Fuck,” I yell, hoping Reign was the last person to leave tonight. Knowing Huxley, he wouldn’t be doing this if someone else was in the house.

Simultaneously, he curls his fingers up inside of me, hitting a spot that makes my vision go black as his tongue rotates over and over my sensitive nub.

There’s rhythm to his movements, a precise synchronization that’s building my orgasm fast and hard.

My legs go numb, and my shaky arms can barely support my weight. Huxley notices and gently pushes me back with his hand until I’m lying down, my pussy at the edge of the table, right in front of his face. And he takes advantage of the position, because he spreads my legs even farther, holds them both in place, and then his mouth laps me up.

Over and over and over.

He takes no breath in between.

He doesn’t attempt to kiss me anywhere else.

Instead, he’s focused on my clit and my clit alone.

It’s my undoing.

The pressure builds at the base of my spine, delicious, swirling pleasure. My vision fades to black, forcing me to shut my eyes and feel what this conceited yet commanding man does to my body. I’m swept away, brought into another world where I can’t feel anything but the distinct pleasure of Huxley between my legs.

“God, yes, Hux. Please don’t stop. Please.”

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t even falter.

Instead, he adds more pressure to my clit before moving his hands to my inner thighs, where he spreads my lips with his thumbs, granting him undisturbed access.

And in this position, he takes advantage.

His tongue swirls.

“Fuck, yes,” I yell, my arm going over my eyes.

His tongue pulses.

“Oh my God.” I grip my hair.

His lips suck.

“Holy fuck, yes, Huxley, yes.”

The pressure builds and builds and builds until . . .

“I’m coming. Oh, fuck, Huxley, I’m coming.”

My body spasms, my clit pulses in his mouth, and my scream of ecstasy bounces off the pristine, white dining room walls as I ride out my orgasm on his tongue.

Delicious. Addicting. Life-altering pleasure.

Feeling out the rest of my orgasm, my hips pulse under him and I slowly come back down to earth as I catch my breath.

“Jesus,” I say, my voice hoarse.

Huxley places one last kiss on my pussy and then sits up in his chair. He takes my hand in his and gently helps me up so I’m sitting in front of him. He adjusts my robe over my legs and says, “Let that consume you tonight, and nothing else.”

With that, he stands from the table and attempts to step to the side, as if he’s leaving. I grab his hand quickly and ask, “Where are you going?”

“I had my dinner.” His alluring eyes pin me. “Now it’s time for bed.”

Eyes trained on mine, he brings my hand to his mouth, places a soft kiss on my knuckles, and then breaks our connection as he backs away. Before he turns and retreats from the dining room, I spy his hard erection, pressing and aching against the zipper of his dress pants.

God, he’s so hot, so tempting.

I want his dick in my mouth.

That’s my initial thought, and then the desire to have him in my mouth grows immensely larger with every breath I take. Should I chase after him? What would I do if I did? Hell, I think we all know what I would do. Pull his pants down and suck him off. I’d revel in the act of having his heavy cock in my mouth.

But if I know one thing about Huxley, it’s if he wanted his cock in my mouth, he would’ve asked for it. That’s the type of man he is.

And from his quick retreat? He doesn’t want it from me.

Yet.

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Chapter Fifteen

HUXLEY

I can still taste her on my tongue.

I can still feel the beat of her clit pulsing with pleasure.

I can still hear her cries of ecstasy as she came all over my face.

And, fuck, I can’t think of anything else.

This is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved. Why I knew crossing that line with her would be a bad idea, because she’s too consuming. Because she’s the type of woman you don’t have one taste of and say take care.