Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
ALLISON
Three Days Later
Two sentences had echoed in Allison’s head since Wells had texted them eleven hours ago.
See you at 7. Bring your favorite toy.
As if she’d forget.
She wanted his mouth on her, his cock in her, and frankly, she’d liked it when he’d held her hands in place last time.
Her hormones had roared to life that morning, and the pile of sex toys had called her name as she brushed her teeth.
Her cheeks burned despite the chilly night air as she walked up the gravel driveway, the vibrating handcuffs feeling like illicit materials in her purse.
They’d seemed like the best option.
Is it stupid? Will he make fun of me?
Allison felt jittery but excited. There was the hope, obviously, that it would be successful—they’d finally both get what they wanted—but this part?
The squeezing of her thighs in anticipation?
This was just for her.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about their tries last month. The unexpected things it had awakened in her. The fact that she didn’t owe him anything after this was done.
It was just sex, and she could have fun.
She didn’t have to worry about being the perfect wife, the perfect daughter-in-law, the perfect anything for him.
She was putting herself first for once.
She rang the doorbell, and Wells threw open the door, a dish towel over his shoulder.
Allison gulped with unexpected need. He looked good.
He wore a quarter-zip sweater that looked so soft she wanted to bury her face in it. It was tight against his chest and biceps. His jeans highlighted his thick thighs and the curve of his ass.
“Styles, I know you’re drooling over me, but we can’t have sex right here.”
She shook her head and stepped in, not realizing she’d been staring.
He stood back and smiled, lust on his face.
She’d worn her suede over-the-knee boots with a flirty short dress, the same one she’d worn that night in the Philly bar.
“Might need you to keep the boots on.” His eyes traveled the length of her, across the flirty, flouncy floral dress with a low neckline. “You wore that the first night I met you,” he said softly.
She gulped, shocked that he remembered. “Good memory.”
He pulled the towel off his shoulder and tossed it onto the entryway table. “I remember everything about you, Styles.”
Her heart was stuttered at that, and she gulped, trying to appear normal. “Did you cook something?”
He stepped toward her. “Appetizers.”
“I brought not terrible wine,” she said, as she fantasized about what he looked like under the sweater.
He nodded, his hand sliding onto her waist and squeezing there. Oh god. She rolled her lips together so she didn’t whimper.
“Are you hungry?” he murmured, staring at her lips.
“No,” she whispered. “Did you want some wine?”
“No,” he whispered back, his hand squeezing her waist again.
Her heart thudded hard in her chest. Why did this time feel different?
It was still just sex, no different than last month. But the familiarity meant she was less nervous.
More eager to get started.
“You bring your favorite?” he asked.
Allison’s cheeks burned as she lifted up the handcuffs, slowly meeting his eyes.
His smile was devilish as he took her hand, tugging her toward the bedroom. “You’re going to love my bed.”
Allison stared at the luxury bed in Wells’s now put-together bedroom. The sturdy iron frame was decorated with mahogany leather and bronze accents tufted on the headboard.
He had good taste. It looked industrial and masculine, and most importantly, it was enormous. “It’s nice.”
Wells flipped a loop of leather winding around the iron frame above the headboard as his mustache twitched with his smile. “These aren’t decorative.”
He took the handcuffs from her and looped one through so the cuffs were squarely in the middle of the bed, hanging off the headboard.
Allison gulped. “Oh.”
He’s done this before.
Maybe a lot.
He bought a bed frame just for restraint sex.
Had lots of kinky sex, whereas I’m barely able to say the word dildos out loud.
“Hey,” Wells said softly, squeezing her hand. “Come back to me.”
She blinked out of her spiral.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
She nodded. “Just feeling a little out of my depth for some reason. Don’t want to…” Mess it up. Look dumb.
“Have sex?” he said in a casual voice, checking in with her. “That’s okay, we can reschedule.”
“No,” she yelled, not wanting this night to slip away from her, and he blinked in surprise. “I mean, yes, definitely, to sex. I’m just not as, uh, experienced in this as you.”
A look of understanding dawned on his face. He glanced at the bed and pulled her into him. “I need you to promise not to tease me if I tell you a secret, okay?”
His mischievous look instantly put her at ease, taking the pressure off.
“It’s going to be really hard, but okay,” she said, smiling tentatively.
He leaned in to whisper against her ear, and she inhaled the scent she’d missed for weeks. “If I admit that you’re the best sex I’ve ever had, does this all feel less intimidating?” He slowly kissed the corner of her jaw.
Goosebumps flooded every square inch of her body. “Y-yes,” she stuttered, leaning into him as he raked his teeth down her throat.
The best?
“Well, you are. Just say stop if you want, okay?”
She nodded, now getting excited. “I trust you.”
His jaw ticked as his eyes drifted down. “Can’t tell you how many times I thought about you in this goddamn mushroom dress.” His hand squeezed her hip, the ruffles of the skirt bunching in his fingers.
“The things I did to the panties you gave me that night.” He pushed one sleeve off her shoulder, the gauzy fabric falling to the side. He kissed the skin there, the rough stubble of his cheek feeling like a claiming mark. “And many, many nights after.”
She sucked in a breath. “You never did give them back,” she said with a smile as his mouth slowly moved to her breast that was now falling out of her dress.
“Found them while I was unpacking,” he said and closed his mouth over her nipple. She gasped at how good it felt. The weight of his hands holding her hips in place as he sucked on her.
Her hands slid up his chest, gripping, kneading the squeezable muscles under his sweater.
He pulled fabric from his pocket, dangling the panties in question on one finger. “Wear them?” he said with a hungry look.
Her mouth dropped open, and she snatched them from him with a shocked laugh.
They were clean, if faded.
“Pictured you a thousand times in them. Please?” He bit his lip.
“Only because you said please. For once.” She slid them on, having worn no panties on her way over anyway.
He slowly pushed her dress off her shoulders and moaned as it fell to her hips, exposing her breasts. Then, with a small tug, it was on the floor, pooled at her feet.
He stepped back, staring like a wolf about to devour his prey.
The panties were snug on her hips. She must have gained a few inches in the last couple years. “They’re a little tight. Does it…look okay?” she said, feeling self-conscious as she stood in her over-the-knee boots and panties, and nothing else.
He whistled low in response. “‘Okay’ is a blasphemous term for what you look like right now.”
Unexpectedly, he kneeled, sitting back on his heels, his eyes never leaving her body.
Every graze of his fingers felt like silk against her skin. He kissed the tops of her thighs, first one, then the other.
Her fingers knotted through his hair as she closed her eyes, lost in the sensation of his stubble scraping up and down her legs.
His hands slid down to her calves, and he unzipped the long boots, placing lingering kisses on her inner thigh as he did it.
Her hips wanted to thrust into his face, wanted to trap him between her thighs.
“I like that they’re a little tight,” he said, his hands featherlight on her hips, tracing the indentation of the panties against her hips. “I like seeing the soft parts of you.”
“Really?” she sighed as she stepped out of the second boot.
He finally buried his face right where she wanted it, and she pressed him against her there.
“So much so—” He nipped her inner thigh. “—that you’re getting your first proper mustache ride.”
She’d sit on his face? She’d done it once in college, when she was thinner and more adventurous, but Keith had laughed at her.
She bit her lip, filled with wanting, but still felt embarrassed that she might look dumb. “You don’t mind?”
He looked up at her with a dark smile. “Why do you think I have the mustache?”
Her nipples tightened at the prospect, his eyes missing nothing as he stood up. “I’m going to hook you to this bed, you’re going to ride my face, but only—”
He shucked off his sweater and t-shirt, and Allison’s mind went blank as she stared at the broad, pillowy, burly chest in front of her.
Thick, light brown hair dusted from his clavicle to his belt line. During their previous “tries,” they’d kept their clothes on.
She’d never seen him shirtless before.
Her mouth literally watered at the firm, massive width of his chest, his stomach.
How it rounded over the sides of his belt and dipped over the front.
He was barrel-chested, and the hairs on his chest were soft as she dusted her fingers over them.
She licked her lips as his stronger scent wrapped around her—that mahogany and sex smell that made her drowsy with wanting him.
Her hands moved over his stomach and chest, as if she was in a trance, feeling this delicious new side of him that made her think of lumberjacks and fertile, healthy attraction. How had she missed this?
Wells tilted her chin up to meet his eyes and cleared his throat loudly, and she realized he’d been talking.
She froze. She’d been pawing at him, lost in her own world of how hot he was.
Whoops.
He smiled a shit-eating, I saw you being obsessed with me grin. “Like what you see?”
She didn’t even have it in her to tease him back. She nodded solemnly. “And feel,” she whispered, sinking her fingers into his chest hair.