Chapter 16 Bellatrix
Chapter sixteen
Bellatrix
Providence isn’t a city dominated by towering buildings, each competing with the other to block out the sky.
That said, there are still a few towering monoliths.
Most of them overlook downtown and the water, and of course, Rowleigh lives in the prettiest one.
Its shape isn’t modern. It resembles something that would have been right at home in the Art Deco scene of the Roaring Twenties.
The outside is tasteful stone, the roof rolling into two peaks with a central point done in bright green metal.
I see basically none of it as I follow Rowleigh’s instructions and pull into the underground parking on the south side of the building. I’m shit at directions, but he told me to look for the restaurant with a dancing squirrel surrounded by two massive trees on the sign, and that helped.
I find the entrance and punch in his code, and a huge metal door slithers up silently.
I was instructed to drive straight, take the second right, and put in another code at the scanner.
It’s wild that whoever designed this place bisected the parking into private bays.
It’s a maze of concrete and metal garage doors. All very efficient.
I forget all about efficiency when the door rolls up, and I find Rowleigh in the middle of his parking area. He’s standing there like a statue. A very handsome, delicious, good enough to devour statue in black slacks and a black button-up shirt. All tailored, expensive, and well-fitted to his body.
My mouth goes bone dry before I even park.
The ridiculous lingerie that’s dividing my lady garage is basically nothing more than a string.
It’s supposed to serve as panties, but it’s not doing the trick.
This car is ancient, but thank goodness the seats are leather.
I have nothing on but a short little black miniskirt and a white, tight-fitting T-shirt.
The black top part keeps my nipples from view under the T-shirt, but I still throw my vintage black leather jacket over the top.
I slayed my makeup, doing it dark and edgy with scarlet lipstick. Very un-Bellatrix.
I slam the car into park in the middle of nowhere, kill the ignition, and throw open the door. I was anxious just thinking about getting here, and Rowleigh is clearly on the same wavelength.
He hoists me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his lean waist, and he steers me to the hood of the car. He claims my mouth in a scalding kiss, pouring all the days we went without seeing each other into it, although it hasn’t really been that long.
It felt like an eternity.
And he clearly agrees.
“I thought we were supposed to get hot and dirty on your car,” I say between kissing him. Maybe this isn’t the right kind of first date, but we were officially on our first date a while ago.
“I’m getting there. Unless you’d rather stop and relocate right now.”
My legs tighten around his waist, my heels digging in as my nails bite into his shoulders.
“I’m not sure I ever want you to stop. Mine is good.
” I kiss him deeply, wild for the taste of him.
I swear that every time he touches me, my brain both scrambles and clarifies.
What do they call that? An altered state of being?
Maybe not, but it’s definitely accurate.
“Don’t let me forget that I have ham in the trunk for you. ”
His surprised laughter echoes off the concrete, giving the whole area a cave-like feel. “Is that a metaphor?”
“No. I brought you ham. We had some leftovers from dinner. Dinner was excellent, but not nearly as delicious as this.” I kiss his lips, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He groans, the sound vibrating through me. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Is it under your jacket?”
“It is. And I’m incredibly anxious for you to get it off me.”
“The jacket?”
“The surprise. It’s quite uncomfortable.” I wriggle my hips, both to get closer to him and to try to escape the crack wedgie of double-crack death. Lingerie clearly isn’t always designed to be practical. It’s meant to be put on and stripped off in two point eight seconds.
His pupils are blown, his lips slightly swollen from my hungry kisses. His new beard is bearding, and it’s even fuller than the last time I saw him. He clearly has excellent facial hair genetics. I want him to rub that beard all over my body.
We both make an effort to get my jacket off.
His noises of appreciation as he takes in the white T-shirt with the little black scraps of fabric covering my nipples below make all the discomfort worth it.
He out and out groans loud enough to echo again after several hard tugs free me from the tight T-shirt.
The beginnings of the onesie piece are clear.
Two straps loop over my shoulders but become one strap as it heads south.
That’s where the string part comes in, looping around to the front, where it turns into two again just below my belly button and widens at the top to cover the essentials. Barely.
“Take my skirt off, Daddy.”
We both freeze and look at each other. I nearly gag, and he does too.
“So wrong,” I mutter. “But also hilarious.”
“I concur. So wrong.”
“You should punish me by tearing off my skirt, removing my heels, snapping that little string down there, and smacking me around with your juicy hotdog.”
He slams his hand up to cover his mouth, but the laughter escapes anyway. “That’s ten out of ten disgusting.”
“I give it a hundred out of ten gross. But seriously, if you don’t get my clothes off and appreciate this outfit within two seconds, I’m going to implode.”
He slips my black heels off and has the presence of mind to rub his hand along my sore feet. Heels are always killer, no matter how used to them I am. His hand travels up my shin, my knee, and my thigh until he grasps the micro little skirt and guides it down and off.
I lean back on the car hood and tilt my legs to the side so he can see the whole outfit. I go for sexy, but I probably just look more like someone trying to find a comfortable spot on hard metal so it won’t grind and bruise the tailbone.
His eyes light up in appreciation anyway. “Fuck, yes, you’re so beautiful. That thing looks sci-fi.”
“It feels sci-fi. It’s trying to edge its way to new dimensions.”
“Should I peel it away?” he rasps.
“Or snap it. I don’t care,” I mutter.
I definitely need to invest in more of these things, if just for the very second that Rowleigh takes the little string in both hands and protects my skin from the burn while he snaps it clean in half. I forget all about how the car is eating my spine or how my spine is eating the car.
He covers me with his huge body, slips his hand under my hips to protect me from the metal beneath, and kisses me. He’s gentle and soft but still just as hot and hungry. He angles his mouth to do incredible things with his lips and tongue.
Five days was way too long.
I never want to not see him for five days again.
I love the way his beard no longer rasps against my face. It’s soft now and just tickles.
I love how his body presses me into the car, but just enough that it doesn’t hurt. He’s so big but so in control of it. The heat of him radiates straight into me, so the cold of being underground doesn’t creep into my skin. His cock is trapped between us, and he’s wearing far, far too many clothes.
“Shirts suck,” I inform him before grasping the hem and pulling it out of his pants.
I do a number on the buttons, half wrenching them out of the holes, half working them free with desperate fingers.
“Belts and pants suck too.” I undo the buckle, wrenching the belt so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break clean in half.
His pants give easily, with far less trouble than jeans.
If I could see myself, disheveled, panting, my nipples straining against the thin black shiny fabric that still covers them, curling up on this car hood and mad for him, I’d probably think I resemble a wild animal and not a human woman at all.
His burning eyes let me know just how much he likes the feral side of me.
A side I didn’t even know existed until him.
I have lots of those sides. So many feelings and thoughts and emotions that I never knew were there until Rowleigh.
The way he’s looking at me? It’s like I’m the sexiest person alive.
I reverse card that straight back at him.
He’s so far from a beast, but if he were a beast, he’d be the sexiest beast. Definitely the hottest man and hottest dad.
I still remember how shocked I was to find out that Mika’s dad wasn’t the silver fox I pictured.
But when he gets there, he’ll be the foxiest of silver foxes to have ever been silver foxed.
I don’t stop until I have his pants and boxers stripped down enough to take his hard, hot cock in my hand.
I’ll never get enough of touching him. I want to get down on my knees and taste him, but the way he groans and thrusts into my tightly curled hand, trying to guide himself into me, says he’s too worked up and desperate right now.
Honestly? Same.
He devours my mouth while I hold his cock in my hand. He’s tall enough that he can do that and not cause himself pain because he has to contort to do it.
I guide him to me, but he’s there too, hard and hot above me, pulsing and wet in my hand. All of me aches for him. I didn’t understand the true definition of empty until him, and I mean that in so many ways.
Although, at the moment, I mean it in one major way.
“Bellatrix…” His deep, roaring purr of my name raises goosebumps all over me. He makes a song of it, his voice the magical instrument. “There isn’t a second of the day that I haven’t thought about you since I met you.”
“How many times have you thought about me in the shower?” My hand tightens around his dick.