Chapter 32
[Vee]
Ross greets me at his door in a pair of joggers and a white T-shirt, but we don’t get much further than this entryway before his hands cup my face and he kisses me. His tongue rushes forward, slinking against mine as the kiss deepens.
“How are you feeling?” he mutters against my mouth.
“Good?” I giggle. Then, I realize he means my headache from last night. He already messaged me this morning to ask how I was feeling. “Better.”
That answer satisfies him, and his mouth returns to mine, the kiss overwhelming. My tote slips from my arm, landing with a thud on the floor before I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss more. Ross presses forward, pinning me against the front door, his large body flush with mine.
“This is quite the greeting,” I tease, unprepared for such a welcome to his house and wondering what’s gotten into him.
Ross stares into my eyes a second before leaning back and gently pulling me from the door by holding my hand. “Want a drink?” Still holding onto me, he leads me into his kitchen, and I stop near the large island, in the spot where I’d spent a few days finding inspiration to write within his home.
“This is where the magic happened.” I whisper for some reason.
“What magic?”
“Words.”
Ross stops abruptly as well and steps behind me. His arms wrap around my waist, and he presses his face into my neck, peppering me with kisses there. I tilt my head, the tender touch exciting.
“What do you mean?”
“I wrote. Right here.” I point to the spot where I’d placed my laptop.
“Let’s write another story.” Ross hums against my neck. “I like you in my home.” He tightens his hold, kissing me deeper along the column of my throat, sucking harder at my skin.
“You okay?” I ask, rubbing my hand over his strong, tattooed forearm around me.
“Rough day at the office,” he mutters.
“How can I help?” I whisper, my senses overloaded by his kisses.
“Want inside you.”
The request sends a sudden rush up my center. I’ve been the one to put the brakes on sex, yet my body is pedal to the floor prepared to speed ahead.
“Should we talk?” I murmur, as his kisses become more urgent against my skin. My head tips forward and he scoops up my hair, giving him access to my nape. He scrapes his teeth there and my knees buckle.
Holy shit, that feels good.
“Talk later?” he grunts, giving me an out when he doesn’t want one. “Question three. For your research purposes. I can explain everything afterward.”
“Okay,” I moan, unable to speak my own name, unable to recall question three.
Ross hums at my ear. “Yeah?”
I sink my teeth into my lower lip and nod.
Ross lowers his hands and unbuttons my jeans, easily slipping a hand into them and beneath my underwear until he’s cupping between my thighs. The first swipe of his finger, I jolt backwards, knocking my backside into the thick, hard, length bulging against his soft joggers.
I reach behind me, fumbling to feel him in my hands, noticing how thin the sweatpants are and easily disguising . . . “No underwear?”
“Let’s get yours off.”
“So bossy.” But I’m quickly quieted as Ross removes his hands from my jeans and steps back, tugging my pants down, along with my underwear, in one fierce pull. I kick out of my flip flops and use my feet to pull my ankles free from my jean-underwear combination.
Bare from the waist down, Ross’s mouth is on my neck again, as he presses my shirt upward and then over my head. He unclasps my bra, nudging the straps to slip free of my arms. Naked in his kitchen, with my hands on the countertop edge, Ross peppers open mouth kisses down my spine.
“God, I love your back.”
Such a strange compliment. I can’t see my back, so I don’t suppose there is anything special about it, but with the attention he gives my spine, the sucking kisses along that ridge down the middle of my body, he makes me feel special.
When he gets to my backside, he lowers to one knee behind me, spreads my legs apart and hitches one of my feet on the shelf of his leg.
Open, and exposed to him, he leans forward and licks my center.
Mouth hungry. Hands roaming. Everything is happening so fast.
The first lap is quick and thorough before the tip of his tongue finds that tight nub, giving it all his attention.
I lean forward, forehead resting on the countertop as Ross works his magic, melting me in the heat of his kitchen.
My hands reach for the outer edge of the counter, needing something to brace myself as my hips rock with his eager attention to my core.
“Ross,” I warn, surprised how quickly I’m rounding the bases, heading for a homerun. This isn’t why I came here, isn’t what I thought would happen. But who am I kidding? I want Ross as much as he says he wants me.
For research purposes.
Letting my thoughts drift and my body take over, I sink into the pleasure he’s giving me. Licking. Lapping. Until his fingers are inside me.
I cry out at the sudden intrusion, relishing in the invasion, and dripping down his hand.
I’m a mess as I tip over the edge, a cresting wave crashing against a lakeside break wall. The thunderous roll of a rushing tide battering against the cement beach only blocks from this house. The release is quick, almost harsh, and over too soon.
When I finish riding the surf, Ross releases me, and I whimper at the loss of contact.
His knee cracks as he swiftly stands. I turn my head, watching as he shoves his joggers down his hips, freeing his hard length. Then, he’s fisting himself and teasing my entrance with his tip.
I teased him about just the tip the other night, but Ross is on a mission. After a few swipes up and down the wetness coating sensitive folds, he awkwardly fumbles with the pocket of his joggers, down near his knees, before producing a foil packet.
“I like a man who’s prepared,” I kid, although I don’t know why I’m making a joke. His preparedness should be a little disconcerting.
“I like you,” he says, swiftly covering himself. The depth of his voice, the intensity of how he said what he said, has me standing upright.
I spin to face him, palming his jaw and drawing his attention to my face. “I like you, too, Ross.” The words don’t fully encompass how I feel. I like him more than I should. And when all is said and done, I’m certain I’m the one who will suffer a broken heart.
Ross’s mouth comes to mine again, kissing me deeply, swiping his tongue inside my mouth as if lapping up my declaration.
I like you can sound so weak as a statement and yet still mean so much.
With his hands on my hips, he lifts me to his countertop and then lines himself up at my entrance again. I fall back, catching myself with my hands, bracing myself upright with my arms.
Ross concentrates, watching as he enters me. He pauses a second once deeply seated, allowing me to adjust. Except for the other night, it feels like it’s been forever since we’ve been this close, this intimate.
With my mouth hanging open, his thumb and forefinger cup my jaw. “Fuck, do I like you a lot, sweetheart.”
Me? Or this position? I don’t ask. I can’t think because he’s sliding to the edge before surging inward again.
“When I’m with you, I feel . . . whole.”
My breath catches as he’s still cupping my jaw.
“Warm. Wanted. Home.”
With him buried inside me, my heart races from both his words and the after-effects of my first orgasm.
Ross pulls back, then rushes forward, filling me again, stealing my breath a third time. In the weeks that have passed, I cannot believe I’ve forgotten how big he is. How deep he gets. How full he makes me feel.
Whole. Warm. Wanted. Home.
“Oh God,” I whimper. “I like all of that.” What he’s saying. What he’s doing.
“Yeah.” He chuckles, repeating the motion, taking his time, finding a rhythm. The movement happens in such a way the ridge of his cock drags along that sensitive spot, tingling from my first release, yet quickly spiraling toward a second one.
I don’t know how he’s doing what he’s doing, but I don’t want him to stop.
“Want to feel you let go around me.” He kisses me, hard and fast. “Want to feel everything with you.”
He grips one of my ankles, placing my foot on the edge of the counter to open me up for him.
Clinging to his biceps, I use his body to support mine as he fills me over and over again. His hands press against my lower back to steady me. His arms around me pins my raised leg to my side.
“Ross.” I gasp, shocked at my body’s sudden response to him.
As I let go, shattering a second time, Ross moves faster, plunging deeper within me. His pace picks up until a final surge forces him still. Only deep inside my depths does he pulse and jolt.
“Ahh,” he grunts, letting go within me while tightening his hold on my lower back, pinning me to him.
Eventually, he buries his face in my neck, and I wrap my arms around his, holding him to me, wishing I’d never have to let him go. He releases my leg and I collapse against him.
Never wanting us to end. Never wanting him to ever think I don’t bring him good fortune.
+ + +
We clean up by showering together, where Ross takes his time to thoroughly wash my body before I scrub his.
We don’t make it sexual, but we tease one another in sacred places.
I’m spent and Ross seems like he has something on his mind.
The same something he tried to rid from his thoughts when I entered his place.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” He asks, twisting side to side in the shower for a final rinse of the body wash I spread over his tight skin.
“Whatever that was when I entered your house.”
“Good sex?” His eyes sparkle.
“Well, there was that, too, but something else was on your mind first.” And unfortunately, I don’t think it was me.
Do I feel used for sex? Used as a means of distraction?
Not really, but I’m still a little unsettled by the rapidness of what happened.
“But something else seems like it’s bothering you. ”