Secret Sessions - Episode 5

She pushed the bedroom door open, heels clicking once on the hardwood before she stopped dead. The room smelled of leather and something sweeter. A man in a dark suit stood by the window, sleeves rolled, watching her like he already knew how this would end. He crossed the space in three slow steps. His fingers traced the silk at her shoulder, then pulled. The fabric fell away, cool air brushing bare skin. She let him look. Wanted him to. When his mouth found her throat, her breath caught. Teeth, then tongue, a slow drag down to the hollow above her collarbone. His hands moved lower, unclasping, unzipping, every motion deliberate. She shivered as he slid her dress down, leaving nothing between his palms and her warmth. He sank to one knee, parted her thighs, and pressed his mouth to the heat already slick for him. Tongue flat, then pointed, working her with the patience of a man who planned to stay there until she broke. She gripped his hair, hips rolling, chasing each lick and suck until the room narrowed to the sound of her own breathing and the wet pull of his mouth. He stood, spun her toward the bed, and bent her over the edge. The metallic whisper of his belt, the soft rustle of cloth, then the blunt press of him—thick, insistent—sliding between her folds. One thrust and he was deep, hips snapping forward, each stroke dragging a low sound from her throat. The bed creaked. Her nails dug into the sheets. He reached beneath her, fingers circling the tight knot of nerves, and the world fractured into white heat. She came with a strangled cry, pulsing around him. He followed seconds later, buried to the hilt, breath ragged against her spine. Sweat cooled on their skin. For a moment, the only sound was their breathing and the faint drip of something sweet from the nightstand candle.