He gives a nod to Marcus, who promptly raises a privacy screen and begins to drive. My fingers tap against the cheap pleather of my clutch and the excitement I was feeling twists back into anxiety. This feels like too much. It is much more than I’m worth. It feels like more than just a date.
A date is a dinner where you order a whole bottle of wine and not just a glass. It’s drinks at an upscale cocktail bar. I feel like I am on my way to a completely different universe. Will I ever feel like I belong in this part of his life, or will I always be lower? The bond thrums between us so easily. He makes it easy, so why am I making it difficult?
Augustine’s hand is so close to my thigh but not touching me. My dress has ridden up so high, the shapewear I have on peaks out.
“Why are you nervous?”
“I feel out of my depths.” I explain, “Like I am swimming too far out into uncertain waters.”
“I suppose, in a way, you are. This is a whole new world that I have thrown you into.” His knuckle slips up my thigh to trace the seam of shapewear. A thrill runs down my spine as he meets my gaze. “But I am here to be your guide, to sweeten you up with honeyed words and decadence like the queen of my eternity deserves.”
“Augustine.” His name comes off my lips like a prayer. His eyes turn the deepest, glittering shades of black and gold that melt my insides. The clawed hand that grips my chin is so gentle, the sharp talon of his thumb catching on my bottom lip.
“I promised myself I would be a gentleman tonight, but you tempt me worse than any siren,mon abeille.”
His lips are like a drug. The moment they touch mine, I crave another hit. His fingers dig deliciously into my chin as he holds me in place. Just as I begin to reach out, to feel his beauty under my fingertips, sand wraps around my wrists and keeps them pinned to my bag.
A whimper rattles in my throat, but sharp teeth nip at my bottom lip. I open them eagerly, letting Augustine control the kiss, greedy to taste him for real and not just in my dreams. He angles my head to the side and strokes his tongue against mine. If I can’t touch him with my hands, I will with my lips.
I suck on his tongue, just like I would his cock if he ever let me.
He groans so deep in his chest it almost sounds like a growl. It’s animalistic and makes my heart stutter. My panties flood with my arousal and I squeeze my thighs tighter together. He knows this move all too well from me.
“Whatever happens tonight, I want the bond. I want you, Augustine,” I say, panting against his lips.
“Joanna,” he draws out my name like he wants to keep it on his tongue. “You are a temptation I cannot deny.”
Augustine’s other hand drags my knees as far apart as my dress will allow. I feel his sharp inhale against my cheek and that only makes me want to sink deeper into the kiss, into the syrupy sweetness his attention brings out of me.
His sharp fingers are careful as they slip up the inside of my thigh. My breath hitches with every little pointed tap of them. Augustine’s sand squeezes my wrists before pinning them to my sides. His knee knocks against mine as he moves in his seat. This new angle pushes the bulge of his crotch right against my knee, and I could nearly cry. He is right there, hard and hot, but I can’t touch him.
I want him. I have for months, even before the dream when he first bonded with me two weeks ago. This hunger and desperation are different, wholly insane. I can’t believe I agreed to eternity with someone I barely know, but right now it feels like this could be the greatest choice I have ever made in my whole life. My skin is alive to each touch, each rush of air as he breathes me in. I amalive,and this is where I belong. With him, under him, between his thighs, wherever Augustine needs me to be, that is where I will go so long as he keeps making me feel this way.
Two fingers slide over the centre seam of my shapewear. The dampness, the teasing sensation of his touch driving my hips up.
“Centuries of evolution, yet women still feel the need to wear such restrictive undergarments.” He sighs when he breaks the kiss. “Mon abeille, I will not ruin these like I did the last, but know I never want you to feel like you must wear these. Your softness, the plushness of your body, is perfection. The Romans would have tripped over themselves to paint and sculpt your perfect form.”
I don’t know what to say to that. My mouth dries up and tears come to my eyes. This compliment feels different because Augustine would know. He would know exactly what artists of antiquity would like. His Adonis form is the envy of every Greek sculpture I have ever seen in pictures, and he is calling me perfect.
“Are you sure we have to go out?” I ask when he begins to kiss my neck, inching closer and closer to the source of all this.
He chuckles against my skin and I can feel the way his lips have stretched. The largeness of his mouth against my skin feels surreal. His moustache tickles my exposed shoulder and brings out a sweet vulnerability. An urge to bare my throat and submit to his every whim has my muscles relaxing. My neck falls to the side to allow him more space to kiss me, to tease my mark.
His fingers press against my core, right next to my clit. I moan and tug at my restraints. This is too good. It’s so much more than the dreams, than the memories of it while I touch myself in bed. I need him.
“Augustine,” I whimper.
“So sweet for me,” he murmurs. “Should I make you cum before the fun even begins? Would that make everything better,mon abeille?”
“Yes, yes, please.”
His fingers wrap around my nape and pull me into another kiss. My heart pounds in my chest and my thoughts slow to nothing. This slowness, this sweetness, is comfortingly familiar and yet halting. To be awake and feel this pressure drip from the base of my skull like honey is exhilarating. I don’t want it to end, a craving I have never experienced before overtaking all my actions. I lick the seam of Augustine’s lips, his mouth parting just enough for me. My tongue teases the sharpness of his teeth—a dangerous thrill skittering across my body at how they might feel against my skin.
His fingers are methodical and consistent against my core, pushing against me until my folds make space, until he can stroke my clit through my shapewear. Stomach muscles tightening and pussy clenching at nothing, I move randomly. I chase my need while Augustine pushes my knees further apart.
A rush of excitement heats my skin when his hips move against me. When the outline of his cock presses harder against my body. Augustine is as desperate for this as I am. That alone has me teetering on the edge. He is as hot and needy as I am. My boogeyman is just better at controlling it. It takes all of my concentration, but I rub my knees up and down his length.
Augustine moans into our kiss before breaking it. His forehead rests on mine as I keep moving. I can’t see him clearly, not when we are this close, but I feel his lips move against mine. French slips from his lips as his touch becomes more demanding. My jaw is slack, my lips slick with our combined spit, and I feel utterly beautiful.
