Chapter Six

His mouth brushed my ear as he said it,

“Should we get a room?”

“Wanna get out of here?” he whispered.

My heart kicked. My legs didn’t move,

I didn’t answer.

Didn’t trust my voice.

but my body answered.

“Yes.”

“Then come upstairs.”

His hand found mine — not possessive, not pushy. just warm. Inviting.

And I let him lead me.

Up a narrow staircase. Past a velvet rope. Into a room that pulsed with candlelight and secrets. Some kind of VIP lounge for sinners. Music filtered in from the floor below, but everything up here was quieter. Darker.

There was laughter down the corridor, a moan behind a closed door, the unmistakable thump of bodies against a wall.

He shut the door behind us.

And then we were alone.

“I won’t push,” he said, stepping closer. “You say stop, I stop.” — At least he was polite.

“You sure?”

I nodded.

He crossed the room in two steps.

His hands cupped my face. His mouth found mine.

And everything else fell away.

The kiss started slow — but the heat was instant. His lips were warm, insistent. His body radiated it too, hands sliding down my sides, anchoring at my hips, like he already knew the shape of me. My arms wrapped around his neck. I kissed him harder, chasing something I couldn’t name. He groaned against my mouth, then dipped to my throat, sucking that spot beneath my ear until my knees went soft.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed.

His hands fumbled with the zipper at the back of my dress.

I let it fall.

I stepped out of it, standing in only my bra and panties while he looked at me —like he’d already undressed me a thousand times in his mind.

“You’re trembling,” he said, voice low.

“I’m fine.”

“Say the word, and we stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

His smile curved dark. “Then lie down.”

He led me to the bed, backing me into the mattress until it hit behind my knees. I sat, then laid back as he followed — a weight over me, pressing me into softness, his mouth everywhere. Between my breasts. Down my stomach. trailing the inside of my thigh.

“Let me taste you.”

I nodded.

He peeled my panties down, slowly, like unwrapping something sacred.

Then his mouth was on me.

Hot.

Wet.

Unapologetically greedy.

His tongue flicked, circled, licked in slow strokes that should have shattered me — but didn’t. I felt the tug of pleasure, the rise of heat, but it stayed at the edges. Shallow. Distant. Like I’d locked the door to where it really mattered.

Still, I moaned.

Still, I arched.

He was good. Focused. Thorough.

I reached for him, desperate for something to hold onto — and found the hard length of him through his jeans. He hissed at the contact.

I unzipped him.

He kicked his jeans down, then knelt over me, hard and ready.

“Wanna taste you too,” I whispered.

Jay’s eyes darkened.

He lay beside me, then moved into position — both of us shifting, angling mouths meeting where it mattered most. My tongue flicked the tip of him. His groan vibrated against me as he buried his face in my heat again. His mouth was relentless, fingers gripping my thighs wide, his tongue stroking like he wanted to make me forget everything else.

“Fuck, Arabella…”

The way he said my name made it sound like a sin.

I tried.

God, I tried.

I sucked him slow, tasting him deeper. He moaned, shuddering, thrusting lightly into my mouth, hands gripping the sheets. I hollowed my cheeks, matching rhythm for rhythm.

letting him groan and bury his hands in my hair. His eyes fluttered shut, head tipped back, the muscles in his stomach flexing.

He was close. I felt it.

But I didn’t fall apart.

I didn’t melt.

He kissed me again, deeper, desperate, while I stroked him. His hand slipped between my thighs again, fingers brushing against my pussy, damp but not soaking. I wasn’t fully there. Not yet.

It still wasn’t enough.

Then he shifted suddenly threw me onto the bed— hovering above me, dragging the tip of himself along my entrance.

“Can I?” he asked, panting.

My body stilled.

My voice caught.

“I can’t.”

He blinked, thrown.

“What?”

“I just… don’t want to.”

“But you…” His jaw clenched. “You got me so close,”

“I know. I just…” I sat up slowly. “You can finish. Just… not inside me.”

His ego flared for a second — I saw it. The flicker of rejection.

But then he swallowed it.

“You sure?”

I nodded. “You can use my mouth.”

Jay exhaled. “Fuck. Okay.”

I let my lips follow the path of my hand. No hesitation now. Not because I wanted him, but because I needed to feel in control. I needed this to mean something — even if it didn’t.

His hands fisted the sheets. His body trembled under my tongue.

“Shit, that’s good,” he rasped. “Don’t stop. Don’t—"

I didn’t.

I let him feel every second of it. The wet slide of my mouth. The pressure. The tease. He tried not to thrust, but his hips betrayed him. I could feel how badly he wanted to let go. How close he was to unraveling.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I’m gonna—”

I pulled back.

Right at the brink.

His whole body flinched, furious with pleasure denied.

I met his eyes, hand replacing where my mouth had been — faster now, rougher.

And he broke.

His body jerked, and then he came hard — hot, desperate, messy. It spattered across my hand, his stomach, the sheets. Unapologetic. Wild. Raw.

For a second, he just breathed. Watching me. Still caught in the aftershocks.

Then came the flicker — confusion, then irritation.

“You couldn’t just let me finish in your mouth?” he asked, voice low and tight.

I tilted my head, calm as glass.

“You didn’t make me finish either.”

His jaw ticked. He blinked like I’d slapped him.

“You deserved it,” I added, wiping my fingers and rising slowly. “Although I had a change of heart. You’re lucky I didn’t stop earlier.”

His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. He just watched me — not angry. Just... stunned.

Like I’d ruined the script.

I leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth — soft. Detached. A thank-you or goodbye, maybe both.

And then I left him there.

I felt... untouchable. Unsatisfied. Beautiful, but forgettable.