Page 19 of Desirable
Parker breaks the kiss, reaching to kiss Jean Pierre, who trills in delight. I'm not forgotten during their exchange because while Jean Pierre is working on the buttons of each of their shirts, Parker's hand is stroking my thigh in the space between the stocking and my dress.
I reach for Parker's pants, undoing the buckle so I can slide the belt out. He might be kissing Jean Pierre, but when I look at him, he's watching me, watching how I slowly slide the zipper down his length so I can free him.
"I think Holly is feeling a little neglected," Parker says hoarsely, prompting Jean Pierre to laugh. There is something in Parker’s hooded gaze. As he marks every spot that Jean Pierre touches me.
"Well, we can't have that." Jean Pierre pulls Parker's pants down all the way, leaving him in his boxers and his shirt unbuttoned. Parker hauls me over his shoulder, slapping my ass as he carries me to his bedroom.
He tosses me onto the bed, and I land neatly in the middle of the king-sized mattress. He looks at Jean Pierre, who is finishing to undo the buttons on his shirt.
"By all means, I'll wait my turn," Jean Pierre promises as he takes the rest of his clothes off. He drops unceremoniously onto a chair in the corner and makes himself comfortable with his cock in his hand.
Parker grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, pulling my attention to him. I let out a groan of frustration. I want to touch him and feel him, but he only gives me a frustrating smirk.
"Stay," he orders. Parker sits back on his haunches, and I see him looking at each ribbon and tie, trying to figure out which ones are ornamental and which are functional. It’s taking all of my willpower not to just hike my dress up, point to my pussy, and yell, “INSERT HERE.”
Parker's teasing is painful as he starts on the ties of my dress. I watch him work through each eyelet, leaving kisses up to my sternum before he gives up and rips the delicate ribbon holding my skirt in place.
When I’m exposed, Parker freezes, his gaze roving my entire body. I want to snark at him to take a picture because it will last longer, but I’m too afraid to break this moment and endanger Parker turning me down. It was easier to be the one turning him down so I didn’t risk his rejection.
"I think she's looking a little parched," Jean Pierre says, approaching the bed.
“Get out,” Parker says, not taking his eyes from me, and for a second, I think it’s me he’s talking to. He then turns and looks at Jean Pierre, who stands frozen. “I said, get out, JP.”
I look up at Jean Pierre, who only raises an eyebrow before he tucks his erection into his boxers. It’s a heavy moment as I wait to see what is going to happen next.
There’s a heat in Jean Pierre’s gaze as he looks longingly at Parker. It feels like it takes a hundred years before Jean Pierre finally walks out of the room.
It’s not until the suite door closes behind him that Parker strikes. There is no moment of adjustment. He plunges three fingers inside my soaking pussy. My hips buck off the mattress, but Parker holds them down as his mouth seals over my clit and he sucks.
It feels like he’s sucking my every thought and desire out of me. He feasts on me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever had. He drives me closer and closer to orgasm. I’m right there, and I think I’m having an otherworldly experience as I whimper and beg, calling his name, and I’m almost there, until he slows down, changing his tempo.
I might kill him for it, but I’m too interested in getting there, in him finally letting me orgasm.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” I cry, trying to buck my hips, but he presses me down into the mattress as he takes his pleasure from me.
Parker chuckles against me, giving me a different sensation.
This time when he sucks and nips at me, he lets me fall into orgasm, leaving me shaking under him. He’s not done with me, though. He waits until my aftershocks have subsided and my pussy has stopped clenching around his fingers before he comes up for air.
“You’re magnificent when you come apart.” He crawls up my body, leaving kisses along me as he goes. He stops at my breast, sucking it into his mouth while he palms the other one, leaving me somehow panting for more.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He releases my nipple with a wet pop. “It’s called edging.”
“Not that. I meant kick Jean Pierre out.”
“Because until the end of this agreement, you belong to me, and me alone.”
I want to question his words further, ask him why he was okay with it before but suddenly not, when his cock rubs against my clit. He thrusts up again, and like the wanton little slut I am, I rub against him too.
“Do you remember what I said to you? When I first asked you to be my date for the next six months?”
“No,” I choke out. I can’t even remember my name right now, let alone a conversation that happened what feels like a million years ago.
“You said you wouldn’t have sex with me.” I hate the smirk that tilts his lips up. I want to go back in time and tell that baby version of me to shut up. Because this is already the best sex of my life and he’s not even inside me yet.
“Mhhm,” I confirm as best as I can.