Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Being in Calvin’s arms made Daphne feel drunk in that giddy, effervescent way at the start of a good night. Her fingers trailed over the hair on his nape as he kicked the door closed and carried her down the hall to his bedroom. She’d never been inside it, and even her curiosity about the room couldn’t drag her gaze away from his face.
Giggling as he tossed her on the bed, Daphne watched as he tugged his shirt out of his pants and undid the buttons he’d fastened crookedly before bringing her inside. His hair was a mess, his eyes were dark and full of desire, and his movements had lost their fluidity. He looked impatient as he took in the sight of her on his bed, and Daphne felt powerful and beautiful and precious.
The voice in her head that protested about this course of action had gone silent, locked away in a corner of her mind that wasn’t accessible here. Instead, her own clumsy fingers worked her blouse open, excitement making her fumble over the tiny white buttons. When she’d finally gotten the last one open, she felt Calvin’s fingers curl over her waistband. A breathless laugh slipped through her lips as she lifted her hips to help him shuck off her bottoms, panties and all.
His pants were still on, but her protest died before it could be voiced when he fitted his shoulders between her thighs and brought his mouth to her core. Her hips lifted to meet him, but Calvin’s hands clamped over her hip bones to hold her down for him to devour.
“Calvin,” she gasped, fingers tunneling in his dark hair.
He hummed against her flesh, tongue and lips exploring every inch of her. With any other man, she would’ve been self-conscious. Hell, with her ex-fiancé, she’d never been able to relax enough to orgasm like this. But Daphne was untethered. All the threads of her that kept her safe inside her shell had been snipped, and now she was floating on a current of pleasure.
She came again with a cry, body arching as the sensations splintered through her. Limbs heavy, skin flushed, and eyes at half-mast, she looked at the man framed between her thighs and felt a rush of emotion so strong her lungs suddenly felt too big for her chest. He met her gaze as he kissed the inside of her right thigh, his hands stroking her skin like she was something to be cherished.
They moved as if in a dream. Daphne slipped her arms from her blouse and unclasped her bra under Calvin’s hungry gaze. His hands worked his belt open, and she found herself fascinated by the movement. The tendons moving under his skin. His deft fingers. His broad palms. A quiet, insistent pulse rose in her, a need to have those hands on her body once more.
And when he pushed his pants and underwear to his ankles, the need grew to a feverish ache. His cock jutted out, its tip glistening. Daphne licked her lips.
“I’ve imagined this moment,” Calvin said, voice rough, as he reached into his nightstand for a condom. “I thought I’d have more control than this.”
Daphne huffed. “You seem pretty calm to me.”
The bed dipped as he joined her, calloused palms sliding over her knees to spread them. “I’m not,” he said. “All I can think about is getting inside you. All I want is to feel you come on my cock, Daphne.”
“That can be arranged.”
His exhale was shaky. Cock sheathed and ready, Calvin pressed a palm to the bed above her shoulder and dipped his lips to hers. Daphne’s body ached for him, and she rolled her hips toward his. He smiled against her lips and nipped at her.
As he settled atop her, Daphne let out a long sigh. His weight pressed her into the mattress, his hips spreading her thighs wider. She could feel him, hot and hard and ready against her folds. All he had to do was shift his body a few inches, and she’d feel the stretch of him pushing inside.
Anticipation clawed at her like a beast scrabbling to get out. Now that she was here, in his bed, she wondered how she’d managed to resist him for weeks. Wondered how she’d possibly survived without the weight of his body on top of hers, without his kisses for sustenance.
“That night you called me,” he said, lips tracing her ear, “after I asked you to be my date ...” He rocked his hips against her, and Daphne’s lids fluttered shut.
“Mm?”
“I hung up the phone and jerked off to the thought of you right here, like this,” he admitted, grinding his cock over her clit.
Daphne exhaled a weak laugh, hands tracing the muscles of his back and shoulders. “Really?”
“You were so snippy with me, but it didn’t matter. I wanted you then and I want you now. You drive me crazy, Daphne. Everything you do turns me on.”
It was a heady feeling, to have a man like Calvin Flint admit that she affected him so. To think that he looked past her drab clothing and her love of numbers to notice the woman beneath it all. Or maybe, Daphne realized as he rose up on his forearms to meet her gaze, maybe he appreciated those parts of her as much as the ones she kept hidden. The lace and silk under the boring office clothes. The bravery behind the mousy exterior.
Pleasure darted through Daphne’s veins. She felt empty and full all at once. She wanted him to stop looking at her like that, because the depth of emotion in his gaze terrified her—and she also never wanted the moment to end.
“I’m glad you pulled me over,” she told him, loving the way his lips curled in response.
And when he shifted his hips and reached between them to fit himself into her opening, Daphne knew the ground was unsteady beneath her feet. She knew something was changing, but she wasn’t afraid. She drank in the sight of him, the feel of him beneath her palms, the weight of him on top of her.
He pushed his cock inside, and they exhaled together. Calvin’s lids fluttered as a rough groan was ripped from his throat, his forehead dropping to the pillow beside her. Daphne was stretched and filled until it felt like she’d never get her breath back. She wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled her body for more. Her nails carved lines in his hard back. Her teeth sank into his shoulder.
Their movements became frenzied. Nothing existed except him and her and unending pleasure. His lips devoured hers in a clumsy kiss, his hands framing her face as their bodies moved.
“Mine,” he said against her mouth, hips snapping to drive himself deeper. “You’re mine, Daphne.”
She’d regret it later, probably, but the words made her feel like she was lifting off the bed, floating away from all that had kept her small and scared and safe. “Yes,” she panted, clutching him closer, kissing him harder, taking him deeper.
Calvin’s movements were jagged, his breaths rough. Daphne could sense that he was close, and she wanted to give him as much pleasure as he’d given her. But when his hand reached between them to press at the spot that drove her wild, she was lost.
She saw the triumph in his gaze as her muscles locked up. Heard the rough, broken words of encouragement he gave her. Felt the way he hardened inside her as she came. But it was all distant. Mostly, she felt a rush of pleasure so intense all she could do was cling to him and hope she survived the aftermath.
He shouted her name, hands clamping on her hips to hold her where he wanted her. Boneless and limp, Daphne enjoyed the aftershocks of pleasure as she watched his face go slack, his hands tightening briefly before letting go to soothe the ache of his grip.
Hazel eyes met hers. He looked stunned.
Daphne reached up toward him with heavy arms, coaxing him to drape his body on top of hers so she could feel the weight and heat of him. With his head nestled against her neck, his lips pressed a kiss to her pulse. They stayed there for long heartbeats, adjusting to a world that had suddenly been rearranged.