Chapter 20 – Seth #3
My hands squeeze her hips again and the sound she makes goes straight through me. But then she reaches back, grabs my wrist, and guides my hand up to her throat. I go completely still. She wraps my fingers around it herself. Like she's been thinking about this. Like she remembered.
I have to close my eyes for a second just to keep it together. When I open them, she's watching me, lips parted, chest rising fast, and I tighten my grip just enough to feel her pulse hammering against my palm. Her pupils swallow the green of her irises whole.
"Bri, I—"
She cuts me off mid-sentence, pressing her lips to mine and kissing me deeper.
She tilts her throat into my grip like she wants me to squeeze to distract her.
Every muscle in my body is tight with restraint.
My thumb traces the slender column of her neck, and I feel her swallow.
If she doesn’t stop this, I’m fucking her in this bed tonight.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, she softens.
“You’re right,” she whispers with a quiet, disappointed sigh.
No. She’s getting this all wrong.
“Right about what? I didn’t finish what I was saying.”
She pulls back slightly, searching my gaze. I grip her hips and roll us until I’m hovering over her, my arms bracketing her face. Gently, I brush a strand of light brown hair from her cheek.
“What I was going to say was, Bri, I’m lost here. You’re... incredible. Thank you for driving me to Boston so I could be here when Sawyer wakes up tomorrow morning.”
I don’t look away. Our lips are barely a breath apart.
“I want you to know how much that means to me. And I want to thank you for it. Tonight. If you’ll let me.”
Her pupils widen. Her lips part. I have no idea why she looks surprised. I’ve wanted her for months. Hell, I’ve wanted her since the night we met.
I lower my mouth to hers and kiss her harder. Her fingers slide around my neck, holding me there. The surprise melts from her expression, replaced by nothing but heat. She lifts her hips to roll her body against my hardened cock. When she does it again, she moans.
I think she could come like this. I’d like to watch.
My fingers move to her chest, thumbs brushing across the nipples gone hard beneath her Mayhem staff shirt. My hands curve down to her hips in those grey leggings, and I feel how taut she is, strung tight everywhere.
"Is that what you want?" I rasp against her mouth. "For me to get you off so you can sleep?"
"Please."
I kiss her again, then grip the edges of her leggings and peel them down. No underwear.
"Fuck me," I murmur, looking at her bare pussy for the first time in ten months.
So smooth. So soft. I drag my fingers across her, feeling the moisture already gathered there, and I'm convinced I've never been this turned on in my life. My thumb presses just above her clit, and a jolt goes through her like a current. This isn’t about me. This is about her.
"Tell me what you like."
"Everything. Anything. Whatever you do, I like it."
I lower my face and flatten my tongue, one long drag across her, and the taste of her is heady, addictive—I already know it won't be enough. But it'll have to be tonight, because Bri practically levitates off the bed at the first contact of my mouth on her pussy.
I slide two fingers inside her and stroke the front wall.
Her hips rock up to meet me. I draw two slow pulses against her clit and glance up.
Her eyes are sealed shut, lips parted, chest heaving.
She's so far gone, whether from making out or from watching the Wellingtons get each other off, I'm not sure.
But Bri laid out in this bed, primed like a live wire, is the hottest thing I've seen in a year.
My tongue parts her again, and I go back for more while my fingers curl inside her. My thumb drags across her clit, slow and merciless, until I feel her strong walls start to clench around me.
"Bri…" I murmur. "Are you going to come for me?"
"Yes."
I press my fingers deep, focus my mouth on her clit, and it takes only a little more before I hear it—that muffled, wrung-out moan.
She comes like that. On my tongue, on my fingers.
A sweet, soft sound like she isn’t trying to wake anyone up.
Her muscles pulse around me until she goes loose and satiated against the mattress.
I lift my gaze and she's already looking at me.
“Thank you,” I tell her. Hoping she can see how much I mean it.
Thank you for driving to Boston.
For loving my daughter.
For making me feel something other than failure.
For believing in romance.
She holds her arms out to me. I pull her leggings back up over her hips until she's covered, then roll her until she's resting on my stomach, arms loose at my sides. Her kisses grow slower, sleepier, turning into lazy brushes of lips until she’s barely kissing me at all.
She curls against my chest, cheek pressed to one pec, arms wrapped around my waist, breathing softly.
I think about how giving into everything I want with Bri could be a disaster.
And then I think about how I’ve never wanted to be so wrong about something in my life.
We fall asleep like that in each other’s arms.