17. Easton #2
I remember what I saw in her then. I remember what we’ve done since she started working for me as Jade’s babysitter.
I remember how good she feels.
And before I can think better of it, I pull Hazel onto my lap and kiss her.
There are no feather-light touches, no gentle caresses because I’m holding back. I throw everything I have into the kiss, the moment passionate and charged with emotions both old and new.
“Easton,” Hazel breathes against my lips, and I wrap my hand around the back of her neck while the other circles her waist, keeping her pressed to me.
I need to feel her. I need to touch her, kiss her, fuck her.
But I’m not about to let myself get carried away. She’s still recovering, and this situation is…yeah.
Maybe…maybe I can just make her feel good.
I sweep my tongue across the seam of her lips before slipping it past again. Hers finds mine, and they dance together as I begin to roam my hands over her body.
A gentle moan breaks free as I cup Hazel’s ass, gripping hard. She rocks her hips above me, and I’m hard as rock beneath my zipper.
Reluctantly pulling my lips from hers, I look up into her eyes, those hazel storms, and cup her cheek with one hand.
“Are you sure? I…I don’t know what this is. All I know is that I want you—desperately. But I’ll stop. I’ll go upstairs right now if?—”
“Shh,” Hazel whispers, putting a finger to my mouth. “Please, Easton. I want this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”
My heart soars, and I yank Hazel back down to my lips. We kiss and kiss and kiss until I need more, so I hold her against me and then stand up, turning around to set her down on the miniature chaise.
Hazel clings to me, sealing her lips to mine for as long as she can. But I lay her back against the seat, working my lips over her chin and down her neck.
Arching up off the cushion, Hazel threads her fingers through my hair, and I let out a hungry hiss as she tugs at the roots.
“Lift your hips, baby.”
She obeys with no hesitation, planting her hands on either side of herself before lifting her hips up toward my face. I kiss across her stomach as my fingers find the button and zipper of her cut-off shorts.
It’s a bit of a challenge to get the fucking things off her. The denim fabric is stiff, but I finally yank the suckers free, flinging them somewhere behind me.
Hazel lets out a little giggle. “That might have been easier if I stood up.”
“Absolutely not.” I smile up at her from between her thighs. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”
She grins, a beautiful pink spreading over her cheeks, and I go back to kissing her stomach. I work my lips down, down, down until I reach the top hem of her panties.
The thin fabric is a pale purple color, with lacey edges and little flowers dotting the sheer fabric. They’re so irresistibly sweet, the fabric ruffled by Hazel’s hips where it creates the boyshort shape.
I smooth my lips across the fabric, working lower to where she hides behind the small section of opaque fabric.
“Easton…” A moan slips free again, and Hazel’s fingers are back in my hair, gripping just enough.
For just a few seconds longer, I kiss and nuzzle Hazel through the fabric of her panties, which gets wetter with each moment, making my insides light up.
She squirms beneath me, her hands dancing through my hair like she can’t determine whether she wants to squeeze or rake her fingers back and forth. Hazel’s foot comes up, helping to lift her off the cushion as she seeks out more sensation.
All I can do is grin against her core, loving how worked up she’s getting for me.
“Oh, baby. Are you so ready for more? You can barely hold still.”
Her grip tightens. “Please, Easton. I need this. I need you.”
“Music to my ears, baby.” I smile as I flick my eyes up to her briefly and then do exactly what she needs so badly. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so you let me know when I’m doing it right.”
Before she can respond, I pull the fabric of her panties to the side, revealing her to me. God, she’s glistening in the low lightning, and I’m fucking ravenous.
Holding the fabric out of my way, I lick up her seam, delighting when a shocked whimper bleeds from her. Hazel bucks against my face as I continue, and I have to hold her hips down so that I can taste her properly.
She’s like heaven on my tongue, and I try to remember all the things I used to do to her. I listen for those moans and whines, paying attention to when she’s grabbing my head and the words tumbling out of her mouth.
Circling my tongue around her clit, I toy with it before sucking the sensitive bead between my lips.
“Ugh!” Hazel reels back ever so slightly, and I adjust using lighter pressure but faster.
Now she’s panting, her legs scissoring next to me as she arches up off the chaise. I understand that the suction was intense, so I alternate between the gentle swirls and sucking.
Curses spill from her constantly until suddenly, she shoots up onto her elbows, and I can feel her staring at me.
“Right there. Right fucking there. Don’t stop.” She whimpers, her breaths rustling my hair. “Don’t you dare stop.”
I don’t. I keep at what I’m doing, circling and swirling and giving my tongue one hell of a workout. It doesn’t take long for Hazel to explode, pulsing against my mouth as the orgasm claims her.
I keep going until it backs off, aftershocks making her jerk. Using slow touches to be sure she’s satisfied, I ease off the gas.
“Holy shit, Easton. That was…” She looks down at me, her hair all mussed and her skin glowing from the exertion.
“You’re welcome.”
All I can do is grin, still tasting her on my tongue, and so very grateful for it. I’m dying to fuck her, to finally feel that pussy wrapped around my cock again, but I hesitate.
Smiling at me, Hazel sits up, pulling me to her mouth for a kiss. It’s hot as hell to know that she doesn’t care about tasting herself.
“Can I return the favor?”
Goddamn. I’m going to blow right here.
I can barely speak, but I lean back, and Hazel goes for my belt and zipper. This feels like lower stakes, and denying that I want more from her is pointless.
Hazel pulls the leather strap of my belt through the loop.
Ring, ring, ring.
My fucking phone goes off in the kitchen, and I jump, nearly hitting Hazel in the face with my belt.
But there are far more important things right now. I put Hazel’s hand back on my waist.
Ring, ring, ring.
Looking up at me, Hazel wears an understanding expression that showcases humor and urgency somehow.
“You should probably get that. If someone is calling this late…” She sits back on the chaise, and I sigh as I right my belt. “I get it. I’m not mad.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s still sporting a massive hard-on.”
Hazel erupts into laughter, but she has a point—unfortunately.
Smoothing down my clothes, I walk over to where I flung her shorts and hand them back to her. Hazel grins, squeezing my bicep before taking them with her up the stairs as we leave the office.
As I head to the kitchen and retrieve my phone, I see that it’s one of my clients, Karla. If she’s calling, it really is serious.
And still, the lingering thoughts in my mind are about how quickly I can get back to Hazel.
What is this woman doing to me?