16. Archer
Chapter 16
Archer
I cannot fucking believe London agreed to go on a date with that…that…scumbag.
Pacing in front of my computer, I keep glancing at the street cameras showing me London while she walks back to my apartment complex with Drew fucking Kingsley, Camille's older brother.
I can't stand him and his stupid pretty boy face.
Do I know much about him to justify this visceral response? Not really, but my gut feeling should count for something, and I don't like the dude.
She shouldn't be going out with him, and she shouldn't be allowing him to walk her home.
They pause at the entrance of the apartment building and by the time I realize I don't have audio, they finish whatever they were saying, Drew taking London's hand in his to kiss the top of it.
"Fucking show-off," I mutter and wait for her to come inside before I close out the footage and pull something else up. Only, I don't have it in me to play pretend, so I shut the screen off and make my way over to the door, opening it when London approaches.
She steps inside, not saying a word, the garment bag in her grasp.
"Did you use the credit card I gave you?" I ask her, knowing damn well she didn't.
"No."
"You used cash?"
"No."London kicks off her shoe and leaves it scattered on the floor, completely out of place.
"How did you pay for it then?" I lock the door and wait for her to answer, my arms crossing over my chest.
"I'm not really in the mood, Archer. Can we fight about this some other time?"
"You just don't want to tell me," I press. "Why?"
She turns toward me, her eyes meeting mine, something hidden in her expression I can't quite place. "Because it's none of your fucking business, that's why."
"What the hell got into you?" I step closer. "Did something happen? Did he do something?"
London narrows her gaze. "Did who do what ?"
"Drew," I blurt out.
"How did you know I was with Drew? Did you stalk me? How do you even know his name?"
"He's Camille's brother. I saw you out front. Don't be so full of yourself, I wouldn't stalk you. Now, I answered your questions, you answer mine."
"Drew bought it, okay? Are you happy?" London rolls her eyes so intensely that I swear they must have touched the back of her head.
"Why?" The word almost comes out of my mouth like a growl. I can barely recognize the strange sensation running through me.
"Why are you being such an asshole, Archer?" London lets out a breath. "I'm not in the mood."
"You kiss me and then let him buy you a dress?"
"Excuse me? You kissed me!"
"It was a mistake."
"I'm well fucking aware, Archer. And it won't happen again. Ever. Plus, you're a bad kisser anyway." London turns on her heel and storms away, slipping into my bedroom and slamming the door shut. A second later, she yanks the door open and pokes her head out. "I have a date with Drew on Thursday. You have two days to get over it and yourself." She closes herself back in, and when I glance down both of my hands are balled into fists.
I fucking hate that she has this effect on me and despite my better judgment, there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it.
Two antagonizing days later, London spends far too much time getting ready in the bathroom.
We barely spoke the last forty-eight hours, each passing second adding to the wall building between us. It's strange being in this close proximity to someone but feeling so far away. I can't stand it, but it's partially my doing.
I should have never agreed to allow London to stay here in the first place, that mistake compiling on top of all the others.
I absolutely never should have kissed her—that was reckless of me, stupid even. I couldn't help it, she was frustrating the hell out of me and the only rational thing my brain could come up with was to shut her up.
London steps out of the bathroom, my attention glued to the computer screen in front of me. I refuse to look at her, to witness whatever she spent hours on in the bathroom.
She clears her throat and makes her way to the table her purse is sitting on, her heel clicking against the floor.
When I don't acknowledge her, she continues to the door. "I'll be back later, don't wait up for me." London doesn't bother waiting for my response, not that I was going to give her one anyway, and leaves a second later.
I hurriedly start typing on my computer, pulling up the camera feed from outside my apartment complex where Drew is already waiting, a Jaguar parked out front that must belong to him.
I watch him watch her, his face lighting up the second she approaches. She gives him a soft smile, but even through the pixelated feed, I can tell it's not genuine.
They exchange a few words before he escorts her to the car, opening the back door for her and shutting it. He moves around to the other side, climbing in and no doubt telling his driver they can go. The car takes off and it dawns on me that I don't have access to their journey to the restaurant. As long as they stick to the plan, I've already gained access to Rao's and am fully prepared there, but until then, I'm in the dark.
Unless .
Fingers moving swiftly, I pull up London's cell phone information and see about hacking into the camera, turning the camera on to give me audio inside of the car. But my search is halted when I realize London has shut her phone off, my pulse picking up at having hit a dead end.
I'm going to have to accept that for a little while I won't know what's going on, even if it kills me a little inside.
I google Drew until I find his phone number and attempt to hack into his device, but the service is too unsteady to let me fully connect.
"Fuck." I slam my fist against the desk, my fingers still swollen from my fight with Seven.
I haven't spoken to him either, but that's how our family usually operates. We fight, we don't talk, and then we pretend like nothing happened. It's not the healthiest, but neither is our entire family dynamic.
The next forty minutes are agonizing as I dart from street cam to street cam and watch them crawl through traffic toward the restaurant.
I hate that I wasn't more prepared, but I didn't think this through, something that isn't like me at all. I'm always calculated and precise, always on top of the things that could go wrong and every variable that might pop up. But when it comes to London, my head gets jumbled and I make mistakes. I cannot afford to mess up, not again, not with her.
Switching the feed to the camera outside of Rao's, I hold my breath as Drew steps out of the car and comes around to open London's door. He holds out his hand, her dainty palm sliding into his. He guides her onto the sidewalk and toward the entrance of the restaurant.
London's dress fits her curves well, the delicate fabric hugging every inch of her in the right places, and somehow concealing the cast on her leg. She walks with ease, not alerting anyone that her leg is even injured.
My phone rings, stealing my attention, Leo's name across the screen. I click the green button and put it on speakerphone, my gaze returning to the computer.
"What do you need?" I ask him.
"Why do you assume I need something?"
"Because you never call me just to talk."
He clears his throat, hopefully signaling he's getting to the point of the call. "That deal with August and the Branford brothers."
"What about it?"
"Did it go through?"
"Why?"
"Inquiring minds want to know." He pauses. "Come on, Arch, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone."
"Why didn't you call August and ask him?"
"I did. He has his calls going through Ivy and she wouldn't say shit."
"Maybe that's for a reason."
"What did I do?"
"It's not what you did," I confess. "It's what you might do. You're hotheaded. You act on impulse. It's a sensitive deal and August can't afford any chances."
"So, it didn't go through then…because you'd tell me if it did." Leo continues, "What don't I know? What's the holdup? What's got August's panties in such a bunch?"
"I have to get going, Leo, I'm in the middle of something."
"You making a move on London, is that it?" He chuckles. "Ivy doesn't trust her, you know?"
"Ivy doesn't trust anyone," I tell him because it's the truth. I'm surprised she trusts us, and we've been there for each other through shit that no one should ever have to go through.
London walks through the restaurant, Drew's hand on her lower back, his body entirely too close to hers. I wait until she's seated and contemplate my next move. It's not that I don't want her to have a good time, I just don't want it to happen with him .
"Come on, brother. I promise I won't act on it. Tell me what's going on, I won't take no for an answer."
I consider my options—I could easily hang up on Leo, but his persistent ass would keep calling, and then no doubt show up to my apartment and ruin any chance I have of keeping an eye on London. But if I tell him, I'd be going against my family's wishes and potentially ruin the deal they're working on. Something is getting ruined either way. There's a chance he keeps his word and his mouth shut, though, and that's a gamble I'm going to have to take.
"The Manor brothers," I confess. Our rivals, our biggest enemies, the bane to our fucking existence. They hate us, we hate them, it's a vicious cycle of who can fuck over who worst and, in this case, they're trying to get in the way of the deal we're trying to make with the Branford brothers.
It should have been simple, completely easy-breezy. We offered them a handsome rate for their side of town, and in exchange, our territory would expand, giving us a stronger foothold in the East Coast sector. They've lost their asses the last few years while Johnny Jones has expanded into their area, but with our backing, we could push out what he's trying to infringe on.
"You're telling me the Manor brothers are trying to sweep in and take Branford?" Leo's voice thickens with anger and I start to regret my decision to tell him the truth.
"Are you surprised? They've been trying to regain what we took from them years ago."
London says something to the waiter but I can't make it out because of having to mute her screen.
"I have to do something about this. We have to. Come on, Arch, you're not going to let them get away with this, are you?"
"When are you going to realize that I'm not the knocking heads type anymore, Leo? I'm done. This is as involved as I'm going to be, and if I'm honest, it's too much."
"You're going to let them walk all over our family name like that? Where's the Archer I used to know? The one that would fight for his family. The old Archer would have threatened their family, at the very least, if not put a bullet in one of their foreheads to prove a point."
"I would not have killed a Manor brother, Leo. You're out of your mind. That would be like them killing one of us. Have you forgotten the treaty?"
The treaty was put into place many, many years ago after a long-running feud between our family and the Manors. The eldest brothers got together, August and Reid, and came to an understanding, a written one, one signed in blood, with the main point being that there would be no murder attempts on either family, by either family. A fistfight here or there was blurring the rules a little bit, but for the most part, we stuck to it, mutual respect forced by wanting to protect our families.
There were a few other stipulations, like properties would not be attacked, and any children born by any of us were also off-limits. But things like meddling with each other's business affairs were not off the table, and right now, they were fully trying to undercut and steal this deal out from under us.
"Who gives a shit about the treaty?" Leo blurts out.
I snatch my phone off the desk, bringing it closer to my mouth when I say, "This is why August doesn't trust you, Leo. You're arrogant, and that arrogance is going to get one of us killed. Don't you fucking remember why we started this? You may have been out partying with Seven, too fucking drunk to recall when our family was falling apart, but I was there, I remember, and it was August and I who had to dig us out of the hole you led us into."
"Geez, Arch, way to kick a man when he's down." Leo feigns hurt when I know damn well it's his ego taking the brunt of the damage. "You act like I don't care."
"Do you?" I ask him, a genuinely serious question. "Because I can't tell half the time, Leo. It seems like the only thing you care about is how many girls you can sleep with and how much money you can launder through that casino. Not to mention all the other shit you're doing through there. I heard about those diamonds that went missing. Wonder where I'd find them, brother?"
"Where else do you expect me to launder money? You shut me out of the other places. You're being unreasonable, Archer. I'm doing this for the family, to build our empire, and what are you doing, sitting in your apartment all alone because you got your heart broken?"
"How fucking dare you." I hang up the phone, not wanting to hear another word of what he has to say. Does he not realize that I control most of our finances and if I wanted to shut him out, it would be as simple as pushing a single fucking button?
I release a sobering breath and return my attention to the screen, watching as Drew excuses himself from the table. With a few keystrokes, I pull up more camera footage and follow him to a deeper part of the restaurant where he pulls out his phone.
"Hey, baby," he says into the receiver. "Yeah, I miss you, too. I can't stop thinking about you." He goes quiet and I assume the other person fills in the silence. Drew glances in the direction he came from and continues. "We'll see each other soon enough, okay? I hate being away from you. I love you, don't forget that." He hangs up a second later and shakes the hand of a man who walks near him. "Sir, how's it going?"
"Ah, business is booming, my boy," the older man responds. "I appreciate your help with that…situation."
"Yes, of course. Happy to be of assistance. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."
"Well, since you're asking…" The man glances in both directions and leans in closer. "I've got this broad my nephew knocked up. She's threatening to tell his wife if he doesn't make things right."
"And what would you like me to do?" Drew asks him.
"Get rid of her."
"I see."
"Do we have an understanding?"
"Get me her information and I'll take care of it."
The way he says it , so nonchalantly like he isn't referring to a human being, a pregnant one, makes my jaw tense.
I dial London's number a second later, the dial tone skipping straight to voicemail.
"Fuck," I mutter and run my hand through my hair. That's when my sights land on the person sitting a couple of tables away from London, an old acquaintance of mine from my old life. I skim through my phone and locate his number, hitting call as soon as I find it.
It rings, and rings, and I keep my eyes glued to the screen and hope I didn't get this wrong.
He picks up a second later. "Long time no see, pal."
"Do you see that redhead to your left about twenty feet?"
"What? No hello, how are you? I thought we were close, buddy."
"Unless you want me to expose every single escort you've hired to the local tabloids, I suggest you do exactly as I say."
"Shit, man, hang on, don't get so hasty." He turns around, scanning and locking his sights on London. "The hot one sitting by herself?"
"Choose your words carefully, Jack, otherwise they'll be your last."
"Fine, fine. What do you want me to do?"
"Go give her your phone."
"What?"
"Did I stutter?"
Jack gets up and approaches London, her head doing a double take as he gets right next to her. "You've got a call."
"Excuse me?" London says with great hesitation.
"Tell her who it is," I speak loud enough so he can hear me.
"Archer," London calls out and snatches the phone from Jack. "What the fuck do you want?" Her voice is hushed.
"You need to get out of there, London. You don't know who you're on a date with."
"I don't know who I'm living with either, and that doesn't seem to stop me. Pretty sure my date is harmless, big boy." She smiles politely, if a bit falsely, at Jack.
"I'm warning you, London. I wouldn't joke about this. You need to go."
"I shut my phone off for a reason, Archer. Because I wanted to have a good evening. I think I deserve that, don't I? Why do you have to ruin this for me? What's wrong with you? And to bring some random stranger into this." She covers the speaker and says, "No offense," to Jack.
He shrugs and takes a piece of bread from the basket on London's table and bites off a chunk.
"You need to listen to me," I try to make her understand. "He's not who you think he is."
"Yeah, well, neither are you, and neither am I. I'm a grown-ass woman. I can do what I want, Archer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date to finish." She disconnects the line and gives Jack his phone back. "Sorry about that," she tells him.
"No worries, I understand how frustrating Archer can be." He nods stiffly at her. "Have a nice evening, miss."
"Thanks. You, too." London dusts off the wrinkles in her dress before returning to her seat, taking a quick glance around to no doubt see the damage caused by our conversation.
But luckily everyone seems so focused on themselves that they don't pay her much attention.
"God damn it, London," I quip.
I skim the layout of the restaurant, do a search to pull up the schematics, and go to work doing what I do best—hacking.
It takes me two entire minutes to shut the electricity off, the entire place going dark except for the occasional cell phone someone is staring at. A dozen patrons let out a collective gasp and I can barely hide the triumphant smile on my face. But why stop there? I disconnect the phone lines, throw a signal blocker in place, and focus my attention on the street outside. If I can just…
With the final click of the enter key, I send the traffic light flashing, cars blaring their horns and locking up their brakes. "That ought to stall them." I move what I can over to my cell phone, putting the tracker of London's phone in one corner, and two video feeds split across the rest of the screen.
I rush to the front door, grabbing my keys off the table on the way out. Instead of going out the main entrance, I make my way to the parking garage below our building, rush straight toward my motorcycle, and shove the key into the ignition. The voice of my sister floats through my head and I reluctantly slide my head into my helmet before shifting into gear and launching myself out of the parking spot.
I dart through traffic, not stopping at a single red light or stop sign. I go onto sidewalks, drive on the wrong side of the road, and cross one-ways in the wrong direction to get there as fast as my bike will take me. I accidentally clip a car's mirror, my arm taking the brunt of the hit, pain rippling through me. My back wheel comes off the ground as I skid to a stop to avoid hitting a woman pushing a stroller, and then once it returns to the pavement, the front wheel goes up as I speed away.
I push myself and the bike harder, faster, until my forearms ache from the force of the ride.
Except when I lock up my brakes in front of Rao's, I realize London's location has changed and she's now a block away from me. Revving the motor, I go back into action, zipping away from the chaos erupting outside of Rao's and following her trail.
I spot his stupid car up ahead and I blaze through the traffic between us to catch up to them. Making a fist, I bang on the back window and ride alongside the vehicle. I hit it harder and yell, "Open the fucking window."
The thing goes down a moment later, Drew sitting closest to me. "Can I help you?" he calls out to me.
"Pull over," I tell him.
He doesn't comply, he doesn't even entertain me—instead, he reaches for the button to roll the window up.
But I prepared for that, so I put my hand between the window and the frame as it starts to roll up, my hand getting smashed in the window but not before I start yanking it aggressively and buckling the entire window from its pane.
With one final tug, the window shatters, a shard of glass still in my fist. "I will ram this through your throat if you don't stop this car."
"Don't stop," London calls out. "Driver, keep going."
I accelerate and shoot ahead of the car, slamming on my brakes and stopping myself in front of the vehicle. If they want to keep going, they're going to have to kill me first.
Drew's car screeches to a halt and a moment later, both back doors open as horns blare from all around us.
London rushes over. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
I hop off my bike and yank my helmet over my head with my free hand, the other still holding on to the glass, the sharpness slicing through my palm. "Put this on and get on the bike, London." I shove my helmet toward her, but she crosses her arms.
"What's the problem here?" Drew says as he approaches, his sights finally landing on me and realizing who I am. His expression shifts immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you, Archer."
I step toward him, sirens blaring in the distance, and nudge the piece of glass into his torso. "If you ever so much as look at her again, I will fucking end you. Do you understand?"
He nods briskly and sweat glistens on his upper lip. "I do."
"You're just going to let him intimidate you?" London mouths off to Drew. "You fucking coward."
I drop the glass, no longer having any use for it, and move closer to London. Without her consent, I slide the helmet over her head, not giving her a chance to protest, and buckle the chin strap tightly.
"What the fuck, Archer? I'm not getting on that thing with you." She motions to her dress.
"You get on the bike willingly or I'll put you on the bike myself." I ignore the commotion around us, not giving a fuck about anyone or what they might think.
"I'm not getting on there. You can't make me." London keeps her arms crossed, her head bobbling with the oversized helmet.
"Fair enough." I scoop her into my arms with ease, turning to walk toward my bike.
"Archer!" she gasps and pounds at my chest.
A second later, I hoist the two of us onto the seat. "Put your arms around my neck, little tornado." I position her small body in my lap, using my left hand to secure her legs over my leg. Her cast is awkward and bulky but I make it work because I have to.
"This is fucking insane," London yells through the helmet.
"Shh," I tell her and start the engine. Leaning forward, my torso presses against hers as I shift into gear and take off from this random street corner.
London remains quiet for the entirety of the ride back to our apartment complex, her grip around my neck tight and lasting. I make sure to stop at every red light and stop sign and obey the speed limit. I don't care about breaking the law, but the way she's riding with me leaves too many opportunities for something to go wrong.
It isn't until I pull us into the parking garage and shut off the engine that London seems to come back to life.
"Get me off this death trap," she whines.
I lift her into my arms, hop off the bike, and carefully set her on the pavement, turning my attention to the bike and pulling the key out of the ignition.
"What the fuck, Archer, I can't get this stupid thing off." London fumbles with the strap at her neck and I can barely hide the smirk on my face watching her struggle. "What's so funny?"
"Stop." I flick her fingers out of the way, unhook the strap, and hoist the helmet over her head, leaving her red hair a complete mess. "There."
London shoves her hand into my shoulder, but I don't budge. "I can't even push you, you're like a fucking statue."
I return my helmet to the bike, lock it into place, and disregard her comment.
"This way," I tell her as I walk away, leaving her behind in the garage. I glance over my shoulder once to confirm she's coming, her face scrunched and her cheeks flushed.
"Are we not going to talk about what just happened?" London marches after me.
"Can we not do this right now?"
"Then when, Archer? I mean, what the fuck, you had to ruin my date, didn't you? But why? I want to know why."
I reach the stairs leading us into the building and turn around to face her. "Because your date wasn't worthy of you."
London stops abruptly, craning her neck to look up at me. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Just trust me." I run my hand through my hair and wish like hell this entire situation would be over.
"No." She shakes her head and puts her hand on her hip. "I won't just trust you. I don't know you."
I let out a sigh and return on my journey into the stairway, London grabbing my arm once we're inside.
"Damn it, Archer. You're going to have to talk to me. Tell me what the fuck is going on. You can't be an asshole and get away with it. I deserve an explanation."
I pinch my brows, my back still to her. "Do you ever shut up?"
"Make me."
"What are you, a child?"
"No, I'm a grown-ass woman who's pissed off her birthday was ruined."
I tilt my head toward her, my resolve softening. "What?"
"Yeah. And all I wanted for my birthday was to have a nice dinner, and maybe get laid. Is that so much to ask for? Living with you is unbearable, sorry I wanted a release."
I snap around, caging her against the wall in one solid motion, my hands on both sides of her head. "You wanted to fuck him?"
London swallows and keeps her gaze on mine. "Does that matter?"
"You want a release? Is that what this is about?" My breath mingles with hers and my mind runs wild at the thoughts consuming it, my cock already aching in my pants. I shouldn't feel this way, I shouldn't think these thoughts, but I can't stop myself and I don't know if I'm even trying.
"Yes," she whispers.
I look into her eyes, mine darting back and forth between them. "And you don't care who it comes from?"
She shakes her head, her breath ragged.
Without allowing my brain to catch up with my dick, I crouch in front of her, my hands hovering along her legs. "Do I have your consent?"
London bites her lip. "What are you going to do?"
"Exactly what you want," I stare at her through my lashes, not daring to take this a single inch further until she gives me permission. I might find her to be the most frustrating person on the planet, but I would never touch her without her consent. "Do you want me to do that, little tornado?"
She nods but that isn't enough for me.
"I want you to say it," I tell her.
"Yes, Archer," she pants. "Please."
I wish I were a better man, one that would be able to walk away from this, keep his composure and not get so fucking worked up during every interaction with her. But I am not a good man, and right now, all I can think about is what she must taste like.
Gripping the fabric of her dress, I rip the slit in the side and run my nose up her thigh and give my hands a chance to explore her soft skin.
London gasps and follows it with a moan, the sound going straight to my throbbing cock.
I reach her lace panties, run my thumbs under the dainty material, and growl when I feel how fucking wet she is already. I stop what I'm doing and tilt my head toward her. "That better be for me, not him."
"I…I promise," she whimpers and runs her hands through my hair, tugging me toward her center. London steps apart, opening herself wider for me, an invitation I hate that I want in the first place.
I bring my face closer, breathing in her scent—so fucking sweet—and blowing hot air over her pussy. I kiss her through her panties and savor the taste of her seeping through the sheer fabric. Reaching up, I take both sides into my hands and slowly tug them down and over her legs. With the panties still in my hand, I skim the fabric over her thigh and across her center, teasing her before running the fabric over her entrance.
She moans and tilts her head back. "Please, Archer."
I shove a finger inside of her, the panties wrapped around it, and fuck her with them.
London whimpers and tightens around me, so I send another finger into her.
"You like that?" I ask her, knowing damn well she does but wanting to hear it from her lips.
"Ye-yes," she moans, the sound echoing in the confines of this parking garage staircase.
I lift her leg over my shoulder and fuck her deeper, my lips grazing her clit. I apply pressure, kissing her and swirling my tongue around her as I rock my panty-covered fingers into her tight, soaking pussy. I angle my fingers, caressing her G-spot and making her shiver under my control. I shove more of the lace inside and release my hand, both of them going to her center to spread her apart. I lick and suck on her, drawing my name with my tongue so her pussy knows who's bringing it pleasure, and who it belongs to.
London digs her nails into my scalp, practically begging with her hold on me.
In one swift motion, I position her other leg over my shoulder and rise to my feet, holding London's sweet pussy in front of me while she holds on. She doesn't protest, she doesn't ask to be let down, and I don't think I would even if she did. I'm a man on a mission, and I won't stop until she's finished and dripping on my face.
London bucks her hips gently, fucking my face and moaning with every motion, her fists holding on to my hair.
I swirl my mouth all over her, careful to only graze her clit, not quite giving in to what she wants just yet. She deserves a little punishment for what she's put me through, and a little sexual frustration is a small price to pay.
But with each labored breath, her sweet juices coating me as her body aches with want, I find myself unable to withstand giving in. I maintain a hold on her with my left shoulder and arm, and free my right hand to return it to her aching pussy. I penetrate her, using the friction of the drenched underwear to fuck her hole and suck on her swollen clit.
Her entire body tenses and rattles, her orgasm hitting her hard and fast, the most beautiful moan leaving her and filling this parking garage staircase. I finger fuck her all the way through it, not letting up when her clit pulsates against my tongue. I smile and savor her taste, knowing damn well this fleeting moment is soon to end.
"Oh. My. Fucking. God," London says.
Carefully, I release her, leaving her panties inside of her and lowering her onto the ground. I hold on to her as she gains her footing. "God had nothing to do with that, little tornado."
She braces herself on my arm and wobbles. "I don't think I can walk," she admits.
I scoop her back into my arms and carry her the rest of the way up the stairs and into our apartment complex, going straight to our place and not stopping until I've laid her on the bed in my room.
"I think that was a bit overkill," she admits. "You didn't have to carry me all the way in here." London scoots back onto her elbows, her legs parting slightly, reminding me of the fabric tucked into her.
"Do you want me to get that?" I ask her, chewing at my lip and dying for another taste.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't stand her and yet I can't get enough.
London, her gaze lined with lust from only moments prior, spreads her legs. "Be my guest."
I shouldn't want this. I know I should stop. I've already gone further than I should have, but that doesn't seem to stop me from climbing between her legs, hooking my arms up under them and dragging her onto her back. I bury my face, my mouth sparing no regard for her aching core. I don't care that she just came, she's going to come again if I have any say in it.
I pinch her clit between my lips and she bucks against me, her body wanting the release almost as badly as I do.
"Kiss me," she says through labored breath. "Archer…" London drags my head up to hers and I let her, giving her a taste of herself as my tongue enters her mouth, our teeth practically banging into each other’s as we try to deepen the kiss.
I press my body into her, my cock hard in my pants and dying to penetrate her tight hole. But I won't allow it. Not yet. Not like this. Sex is something we can't come back from, even though I can't be certain what's happening right now won't already complicate things.
London spreads her legs wider and moans as she grinds against me.
I crush myself into her, her wetness soaking through my pants, my cock so painfully hard I'm not convinced it isn't going to snap in fucking half in its confines. I run my hand over her chest, tugging the strap of her dress down and exposing her breast. Breaking away from our heated kiss, I skim my tongue over her skin and pop her nipple into my mouth, sucking on it as it pebbles. Desperate to feel her lips on mine again, I cup her breast, circling and massaging her nipple as our mouths meet, a frenzied hunger consuming us. I continue to rock my hips against her, noting all the ways her body moves and bends under me, wanting to memorize the way it breaks, too.
"Fuck me, Archer," she cries against my mouth.
But I won't do it. I can't. Because once we do, there's no coming back.
I ignore her request and slide my hand down between our traitorous bodies and rub her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure for her to climax even harder than she did before, her moans suppressed by our kisses. I swallow every single one of them down like it's the only thing giving me life and bask in her quivers until I'm certain she can no longer take any more. I release my hand, give her one final kiss, and collapse on the bed beside her.
London lays there, her head back, her gaze on the ceiling, her breath labored and clipped. She licks her lips and swallows and I watch her so intensely I locate a new constellation of freckles I hadn't noticed before on her cheek.
She turns her head toward me. "You still didn't get them out."
"Oh, my apologies." I move between her legs, both resting over my shoulders, and breathe her in for what should definitely be the last time. Pinching her panties between my lips, I tug, her pussy tight as I slowly pull them out of her and wish I could go back in time and do this all again.
London stares at me. "That was a first."
"What was?" I ask her and drop the panties into my hand.
"Being finger fucked with my own panties," she admits.
"How was it?" I ask her, curious for a performance report even though I'm sure the two powerful orgasms say enough.
"Terrible." She smirks. "You're a bad kisser, remember?"
I glare at her, wondering why she's going to ruin the moment but realize that's what got us in this situation from the start. Not wanting to participate in the bickering match she's no doubt prepared to launch into, I slide off the bed, her cum-soaked panties still in my grasp. "I'm taking these, by the way."
"What? Why?" she asks, her eyebrows raised.
I'm at the door when I turn back and tell her, "I'm going to go jerk off in the shower."
It's up to her to determine whether I'm being serious.