Chapter 22
twenty-two
. . .
Rosalie
Sweet Like Caramel
My skin is still practically buzzing with adrenaline when we walk through the front door of Sweet Sullivan’s twenty minutes later.
“God, that felt… freaking incredible, Wells. Amazing. Electrifying. You know, honestly, I could’ve said so much more, and he should be thankful that I didn’t.
It felt so good telling him that and seeing the look on his face as I did,” I breathe after I flip on the lights and take off my coat, hanging it on the rack in the back.
“What an asshole. I can’t believe you threw champagne on him. ”
Wells shrugs. “At least I didn’t beat the shit out of him.”
“True. Very true. You’re way too pretty for jail. I swear, I could lift a freakin’ car right now. That’s how much adrenaline I have.”
He chuckles. “That’s how it would be for me after a game. There would be so much adrenaline pumping through me that I couldn’t even sit still. Ten years of eighty-two games a season, so I know exactly how to get rid of all that pent-up adrenaline.”
“How’s that?” I ask, noticing how his voice has gone deep and hoarse.
Seductive.
And I’m not sure he’s even trying.
“Mmm. How about I just show you?” he whispers, moving toward me as I step backward, colliding against the case behind me, jostling the candy inside the jars. Staring down at me, he lifts a brow. “And I just thought of something. Stay right here.”
I nod, even though I’m confused as he turns and disappears into the kitchen, only to return a minute later with…
“What are you going to do with that, Wells?” I barely get the words out, my heart racketing in my chest at what I think he’s intending to do with the large bottle of homemade caramel sauce he’s got in his hand.
He doesn’t answer, just smirks and saunters over, coming to a stop in front of me.
“Remember earlier when I told you I was thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you that involved this?” Lifting the bottle, he shakes it between us before setting it down on the top of the case behind me and bracketing his hands on either side of me, dipping his mouth to hover above mine. “Seems like now’s the perfect time.”
My eyes widen as I sputter, “Here? Wells, we’re inside the freaking candy shop. We can—”
“Why not?” I can feel the warm fan of his breath against my lips when he leans closer, cutting off my protest. “It’s after hours.
Doors are locked, windows are covered. We’re all alone with no one to interrupt us.
” His fingers dance along the front of my dress, trailing lower along my stomach until they slip up the hem and into the front of my panties.
My breath hitches when they brush my clit, and every single rational, logical, responsible thought I had is suddenly gone.
All I can focus on is the man touching me.
The masculine scent of him, fresh pine and crisp cedar, the heat of his body pressed against me.
“But… I—” I start as his fingers begin to make slow, languid circles on my clit, my head tilting back on my shoulders and hitting the glass behind me, slightly clearing the fog for a brief moment. “What about the… the candy? It’s a health code violation if…”
The words die on my tongue when he slips the two fingers that were on my clit into my pussy, thrusting deep, curling and hitting my G-spot in one swift motion.
Oh my God.
My legs tremble, threatening to give out as my hands fly to his biceps, nails digging into the hard muscle in an attempt to hold on to him.
“The candy is stored in airtight glass containers, behind a thick glass case. We’re not touching anything,” Wells reassures me, thrusting his fingers in and out of my wet heat until I’m panting, a breathless mess of limbs at the mercy of this man.
Maybe it’s my lingering adrenaline or the heavy cloud of desire fogging my brain from how he seems to know exactly where to touch me to have me teetering dangerously on the edge, but I realize he’s not wrong. At least, I don’t think he is, and right now, I’m already too far gone to even care.
“Are you going to let me eat this pretty little pussy?” he rasps as his fingers tangle in the red dress at my thighs, yanking it up and exposing the thin strap of damp lace barely covering anything.
“Are you going to let me bury my face between your thighs and make you come on my face like the good girl I know you are, Rosalie? You know I have a sweet tooth, and your cum is sweeter than the candy you’re dripping on. ”
I’m fairly sure he could ask me to fly away with him to another planet right now, and I’d agree. I’d agree to anything with his thick fingers languidly working inside of me, thumb pressed tightly to my clit, circling slowly, deliberately.
This man makes me crazy.
He makes my heart feel like it’s crawling up my throat.
He makes me do things I would’ve never done before meeting him. Amazing things.
He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, and it’s both terrifying and electrifying all at once.
“Please.” My whispered plea is all it takes for the small semblance of restraint that Wells was holding on to to snap.
Pulling his fingers from me, he bunches the dress at my hips and drags it over my head, throwing it to the side before making quick work of the matching bra and panties I so carefully chose for tonight, just in case.
I hear the sound of tearing, but we’re a frenzy, a frantic tangle of desperation that I can hardly keep up with until I’m completely naked in front of him, my dress and heels discarded somewhere nearby.
My back is plastered against the case behind me, my fingers pressing into the glass as he steps back to look at me. His heated gaze darkens as it rakes over me from head to toe.
Realization hits me at the fact that I don’t have the urge to cover myself, to hide away from his gaze.
I’m reveling in the appreciation in his eyes, my heart leaping in my chest at how I can feel how much he wants me. How much he loves what he sees.
It causes heat to bloom beneath my chest, a warmth spreading to all of my limbs at how good it feels to not want to hide myself. To feel good about my body.
“I wish you could see what I’m seeing right now.
How fucking beautiful you look,” Wells murmurs, swiping the caramel off the case, then stepping to me, the heat of his big body surrounding me, enveloping me completely until I’m lost to him and only him.
“Feel what you do to me, Sugar. Feel how hard you make my cock just from seeing you spread out in front of me.”
His hips flex as he grinds his cock against my stomach, and I feel every inch of how hard and thick he is.
For me.
My pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having it buried inside me, remembering how it felt to be stretched so completely full of him.
I’m not sure which turns me on more. His unabashed need for me or how he seems to make me come like I’ve never come before.
Each throb of my clit intensifies as he brings the bottle to the center of my chest and squeezes it, pouring a drizzle of caramel along my skin.
I hitch in a sharp breath at the cool sensation, but it’s quickly replaced by heat when his tongue traces the path and licks every single drop from my body in one long swipe.
Mother of God.
“Mmm. It’s good, but it’s nothing compared to how sweet this pretty little pussy is.” He licks a path down my stomach, dipping into my belly button and swirling before he continues lower, and lower.
I fight the urge to let my eyes flutter closed, fighting not to give in to the feel of his tongue on my body, because I want to watch every moment of this. This man worshiping my body.
Wells squeezes the bottle again, releasing another stream of sticky, sweet caramel that drips slow-moving rivulets down my body. All over my tits, my stomach, down to my aching pussy.
“Keep your hands on the glass.” Wells’ rasped command is firm and so incredibly sexy that my pulse skitters wildly in my veins. “Understand?”
I nod, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth and capturing it between my teeth until I feel the smallest bite of pain, watching him slowly sink down to his knees at my feet.
He leans forward, flattening his tongue just above the top of my pussy, swiping away a trail of caramel and using the tip to spread the remainder along my pussy lips.
Using his fingers, he spreads me open, dragging the caramel lower until it’s coating my clit, all the way to my entrance. The sensation causes my eyes to roll back in my head, my toes to curl along the frigid tile.
It’s strange, but also incredible. Who knew that caramel could feel so… erotic. My entire body feels damp, sticky. Achy. Suddenly, I feel a cool puff of air hit my clit, realizing that Wells is blowing on it.
A shiver rolls down my spine at the unexpected sensation. My hips squirm against the glass, and I desperately want to bring my fingers to his hair, to yank on the strands.
Wells chuckles against my wet flesh when he senses my frustration, the vibration making a jolt of arousal power through me, adding to the tautness pulling in my lower belly.
He’s barely touched me, and I feel like I could come, just like this, from the barest brush of his tongue, the cool air caressing my clit, the caramel dripping slowly down my body. The rough feel of his fingers digging into my hips, holding me against his mouth.
His tongue circles my clit, exploring my pussy in a slow perusal before he sucks it into his mouth, and I feel the press of his fingers at my entrance, teasing but never pressing forward.
“Wells, God,” I cry, urgency laced in each syllable. “Please.”
He pulls back slightly, staring up my body to meet my gaze with dark, hungry eyes. “Please, what, baby?”
God, he knows what. He’s… he’s driving me insane. I feel like I’m going out of my mind. On the cusp, but never quite close enough to fall over the edge.
“More. I need more,” I beg.