Chapter 18 #2
His thumbs rest on my cheeks, gently stroking back and forth as he tilts my face up toward him, then holds it in place with those incredibly flexible hands.
I feel like I could melt into the floor at his touch.
It carries enough power to start earthquakes and hurricanes—if not in the world, then at least inside me.
He moves his mouth to my jaw, tracing the entire line of it with kisses before moving to the column of my neck. My head tilts back of its own accord, and I’m no longer able to focus on anything but the feeling of Rhett’s lips against my skin.
He arrives at my collarbone, tugging my shirt away to be able to reach it. It’s a crewneck, so not the easiest thing to do, but I specifically chose this old Van Halen shirt to wear to bed because it covered the most amount of skin.
He tugs on the hem. “Take this off,” he murmurs, his words muffled by my body.
I slip it over my head, causing him to take a step back. I’m left in nothing but a pair of tattered sweatpants—possibly the least sexy thing I own—and he sucks in a shuddering breath as his gaze sweeps over me.
He rests his hands on my hips. “Have these been underneath this whole time?” he asks, eyes on my 32D chest, then on my waist, then back on my boobs.
I bite my lip. Warmth spreads through me at his admiration, but it still makes me slightly uncomfortable. “I think so?” It comes out as a question.
He slides his hands around the small of my waist, dwarfing me with the width of their spread.
It has the same effect as swirling a hot knife through butter—instant liquefaction.
He yanks me against him, and my nipples rub up against the softness of his T-shirt—something I was admiring before, but now want to disintegrate.
His fingers make their way up the curve of my spine, and he groans before dropping his mouth onto mine again. After another scorching kiss, he shifts and kneels in front of me. The sight of Rhett Cole kneeling before me will never be erased from my memory as long as I live.
He moves his attention to my breasts, pulling them into his mouth one by one and sucking until my knees buckle. I feel his grin, and it prompts me to open my eyes and watch him. He looks up at me, his eyes alight with something I can’t put into words. Elation maybe, if I had to settle on something.
His mouth moves downward, following the faint line between my abs to my navel. I let out a shuddering breath as he sprinkles a circle of kisses around my belly button.
The waist of my sweatpants prevents him from going any further, but he slowly eases them down, immediately chasing the newly exposed skin with his kisses. Carefully lifting each leg, he helps me step out of the pants.
I’m now wearing nothing but a pair of lavender lace underwear, and Rhett Cole’s face is less than two inches away from them. He’s looking at me like he’s never seen a naked woman before, which the entire world knows is a lie.
He lets out a ragged exhale, then rubs his palm over my panties. “You’re shaking,” he says.
He’s right. Tiny tremors rack my entire body, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.
“Are you scared?” His eyes pull mine to them like a magnet.
I shake my head, not trusting words right now. It’s not a lie. I’m not scared, exactly. More like aware that I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, and the second I choose to take the plunge, there’s no going back.
Rhett studies me for another beat before leaning back on his heels and pulling his phone out of his pocket. Several seconds later, the sultry notes of a piano float through the bedroom speakers. “Better?” he asks.
I nod as the music sinks into my bones, calming me in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“We don’t have to do this,” he says quietly.
“I want to.” It nearly comes out as a whimper. The depths of that want might be what scares me the most. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I want him.
He reaches around to my ass, tugging me toward him. The heat of his mouth is so intense, I glance down to see if he’s melted my panties right off my body. They’re still there, but are doing little to shield me.
A cry escapes my lips as he nips at me through the fabric. This turns him ravenous, and he moves the crotch of my underwear aside with greedy speed.
The first flick of his tongue nearly does me in. It’s hot and wet, and it hits every single nerve of my clit. My hands fly to his hair, pulling him closer as I thrust my hips into his face. He growls into my pussy and, with his hands still on my ass, drags me even nearer.
His tongue travels further back, then dives into me with so much force I cry out again. After several pulses, he moves his hand so he can use his fingers to drive in even further. A sudden sharp thrust brings a scream to my lips.
“God, how many fingers is that?” I gasp.
“Three,” he grunts, ramming them in with perfectly timed precision.
I sag against the wall as he continues ministering to me, making me feel so many things at once that thoughts become a distant memory. When he leans in to use his tongue again, my climax unleashes. I cling to his head like it will save me from the storm.
He fucks me with his tongue and hand until my orgasm ends and I collapse against him, completely spent. A chuckle rumbles through him as he tugs my soaked underwear down my legs, then lifts me and gently lays me on the bed.
He climbs on after me and positions himself between my thighs, which he spreads wide with those hot, heavy hands. My brain has enough battery life left to notice that he’s still fully clothed, while I’m sprawled naked under the strip lights of the bus bedroom.
Lifting both of my legs, he throws them over his shoulders, leaving me even more open and exposed. I’m about to protest when his mouth finds me again, eradicating vocabulary entirely. With long sweeps of his tongue, he somehow brings me to another climax.
When I’ve come down from it, he lowers my legs back down and pulls his shirt over his head.
No matter how long I live, I will never tire of watching guys do that, especially when they look like Rhett.
Hard, sculpted muscles make up his torso, and there doesn’t appear to be an ounce of fat on him.
A handful of tattoos are scattered across his shoulders and down his arms. A faint trail of hair disappears into his sweatpants.
I reach up and trace it, soaking up the way it makes him shudder.
His eyes have gone black, and he’s watching me with more seriousness than I’ve ever seen him wear before. Gone is charming, teasing Rhett. In his place is a man who is on the brink of losing control.
The power of it is intoxicating.
I slip my hand beneath his waistband, finding what I’m looking for immediately, thanks to his lack of underwear. His eyes flutter shut as I wrap my hand around his hot cock, squeezing and pulling it.
“Fuck, Saylor,” he whispers as I rub my thumb over his tip.
“You should,” I whisper back, making his eyes fly open.
He yanks his pants down with lightning speed, leaving me holding his cock in the light. It’s a beautiful masterpiece, all veins and tight, pink flesh. I drag my eyes back up his body, meeting his gaze.
Without a word, he reaches for the drawer beside the bed, returning with a condom. I glance at it, then back at him, my confidence returning now that I’ve brought him to his knees. “Was that meant for me or someone else?”
The corners of his mouth lift in a smile as he rolls it on. “Let’s call it wishful thinking,” he says. His eyes are still black, but lit by a spark that is quickly becoming my favorite thing in the world.
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
His smile vanishes as he lines himself up at my entrance. “Does this?” He thrusts inside me in a single fluid motion, entering and filling me with such force that my vision goes black for a heartbeat.
I wrap my legs around him as he buries himself deeper. He leans forward on his elbows, nuzzling my chest as he fucks me. His lips close around my nipple, and then I feel the telltale sting of teeth. I gasp as it makes me clench tighter around him. He groans and thrusts extra hard.
We must be rocking the entire bus, advertising our activities to anyone watching. The surprising thing is that I don’t care. Everyone thinks we’re together anyway. This is less alarming than if we weren’t having sex.
My third climax is building, and Rhett looks like he’s barely holding it together.
He reaches for me, shifting my body for a slightly different angle.
I thought he was already as deep as he could go, but it turns out I was wrong.
He’s buried so far that I can feel his balls slapping against me with every thrust.
I let out a shaky gasp as I feel it coming again. He chases it with his own moaning growl, and for the first time in my life, I orgasm at the same time as someone else.