I stare at the large window in the lounge. The apartment is set back from the park, but as this is the top floor of a five-story building, there’s a grassy vista spread before me, seen through horse chestnut trees.
Even just being here is soothing. No one knows where I am. No one has any expectations of me. I didn’t know how much I needed this. Just this. Peace.
There’s a harsh electronic sound, and I realize someone’s rung the bell. I walk to the front door and see that the vidcom has lit up with Wraye’s face. She tucks her hair behind her ear and whispers, “It’s me.”
I buzz her up, and a few minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door. My heart starts to pound as I open it. All right, maybe I want more than just peace.
She stands on the threshold, her lips parted and breathing lightly. Before I can say anything, she lifts up on her toes, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. A desperate kiss. We sink into each other as I fumble to get the door closed behind us.
She grips fistfuls of my shirt so tightly that her hands feel like iron when I run my fingers over her knuckles.
I pull away, and she tries to kiss me again. “Hey. Slow down. You look terrified.”
Her eyes are huge. She captures her reddened lower lip between her teeth.
“If you don’t want to do this,” I begin.
“I do. I’m just… You must remember how dangerous it feels to break the rules. Like I’m about to be arrested, and they’ll throw away the key.”
I remember. I was sent to solitary dozens of times for the pettiest of reasons, but I don’t want to talk about that right now.
I take her hand and lead her over to the window. “We’re not overlooked by any other buildings. The apartment is on a quiet side street. I arrive and leave through a different entrance via an underground garage. There aren’t any neighbors on this floor.”
Wraye takes a long look around at the tall trees and the people in the distance, walking through the park. She turns to me and wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest. After a moment, I pick her up and carry her to the sofa.
She sits across my lap with her arms around my neck, a warm weight on my thighs. I don’t feel like she’s shockingly young for me. Maybe in my heart, I’m still twenty-six. Or maybe she’s too lovely to resist, no matter if I’m twenty-six or fifty-three.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She ducks her head and smiles. “I thought you were angry with me yesterday.”
“Not angry. Incredibly frustrated that I still wasn’t deep inside you.” I slide my hand into her hair and close it in a gentle fist, enjoying the way it makes her lips part.
Wraye sucks in a breath, her gaze on my mouth. “Did you always like to be dominant?”
“I don’t know. I’m used to telling people what to do and them doing it.”
“I never liked being told what to do. Actually, I hate it.”
I laugh softly, remembering how she’s told me to piss off. “No. Really?”
“But for some reason, I like it from you.”
I kiss her, and this time, she takes her time with it, rather than inhaling kisses like that cake she ate at top speed yesterday. My mouth skims over hers. “We don’t have to do anything. It’s wonderful just being here with you.”
She slips from my lap to kneel between my knees. “But, Your Grace, if we’re going to have an illicit affair, we should have all the fun, along with all the risk.”
“True,” I murmur, watching her unfasten my belt. She reaches inside my underwear and closes her hands around my length, drawing it out. For a moment, she strokes me with her fingers, and then she leans forward to take the head of my cock in her mouth.
My head tips back with a groan as her warm, wet lips close around me. Her tongue swirls over me, and then down my length.
“Is that okay? What should I do?”
“Take me a little deeper. Use the suction when you draw up.” She does, and I sink farther into the sofa, letting go of everything, except what she’s doing to me. “Oh, fuck. Good girl.”
I watch her through half-lidded eyes as she takes me deep into her mouth and up again. Tension is collecting low in my belly, and I don’t want to come yet. Not when we’re only just getting started. I lean down and scoop her up into my lap.
“Was that okay?” she asks.
I trace her lips with my forefinger. “That was perfect, sweetheart.”
I undress her slowly, running my hands over every inch of warm skin. Her dress unzips at the back, and I gather the folds of her skirt in my hands and lift it up over her head. She sits in my lap in just her underwear. Cupping her waist, I drink my fill of her.