Chapter 21 #2
Chelsea looked even more goddamned breathtaking than I’d been worried about.
She was wearing a dark green dress; lacy, like a forest canopy.
It went up high, showing no cleavage, and had long sleeves, but the way it hugged her form—and the short skirt that fluttered just like the tablecloths in the breeze—it was sexy as goddamned hell.
Her hair was doing things to me too—she wore it in that slicked-back way she’d sometimes been doing it, making me think of that actress in the Matrix.
The one I used to watch late at night as a hormonal preteen.
“Fuck me,” I said, and she laughed.
But as there had been since the beginning, there was a note behind it; an uncertainty. It was barely there, but I heard it.
And it was the only thing that kept me from walking over and kissing her; taking her right there on the table.
I managed to take in the rest of the set-up: behind her, there was a podium with three chairs next to it, the whole thing illuminated with ground lights, and a giant projector screen on a stand, wafting ever-so-slightly in the breeze.
Beyond that was a sweeping view of the Quince Valley: the river, the bridge far to our right, and beyond that the Rolling Hills resort, twinkling in the trees.
“It looks incredible,” I said, still not trusting myself to move too close to her.
Chelsea, we need to talk.
“You look incredible.”
Fuck.
“So do you,” Chelsea said. Her eyes roamed over my suit, and even though I swore I wouldn’t get distracted, for a moment I let myself enjoy the sensation of her looking at me like that, like she wanted me as much as I wanted her. “You clean up nice,” she said, when she met my eyes again.
“You were already clean.”
She smiled. “Not that clean.”
The look in her eyes was enough to make electricity shoot directly to my dick.
“Chelsea—”
But she was already walking over to me, looking up at me through her eyelashes as she walked, one high-heeled foot in front of the other.
I clenched my jaw. Reilly, no. Not this time.
But it didn’t matter. This was how she got me, every time. We’d been together more times than I could count over the past couple of weeks, mostly at my place, given its seclusion. I’d tell her we could just hang out, watch a movie, or I’d cook her food, telling myself soon—we’d talk soon.
But she was insatiable. Being close physically was the only time she seemed to fully relax around me. And that was part of the reason why I didn’t want to go there now.
“Chels, I wanted to talk to you, remember?”
“I remember,” she said, only a few feet away now. I tried to stop her. I did. I stood straight, folding my arms.
But hell, when she came up to me, rising on her toes to kiss me, I found my arms slipping around her waist. When she pressed her soft breasts against my chest, my dick began to swell with disregard for my brain’s orders.
I gripped her lace-sheathed ass without knowing what the hell I was doing, squeezing and pulling her hips closer until I knew she could feel my growing bulge.
With her tongue darting into my mouth, her scent filling my nostrils, I was a lost cause.
Chelsea pulled away. “There’s an office,” she said. “We can talk in there.”
Then she walked by me, swishing her hips as she strutted to the roof’s door.
What the fuck was the matter with me?
Chelsea. That’s what. I had no choice but to follow.
The office, as it turned out, was nicer than I’d expected—drywalled, with a desk, an old couch that looked like it had been around since the 1960s, and even a space heater, already glowing orange and filling the space with warmth.
But I barely saw any of that, because Chelsea had closed the door and stood with her back to me, her arm bent up and pulling the zipper already halfway down the back of her dress.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” I asked, feeling my cock thicken further.
“I’m the event planner, aren’t I?”
She pulled at her sleeves and dropped the dress on the ground, where it pooled around her heels. But I wasn’t looking at her dress. I was looking at Chelsea, in a black lace bra and panties, a garter holding up her pantyhose.
A fucking garter.
My dick had fully engaged now, and I ached to have her touch it. Hell, just to have her see it, and lick her lips the way she did, going after it like a meal.
Over her shoulder, she said, “I thought maybe you could fuck me before everyone gets here.”
“Is that right?” I said, my voice barely functioning. I took a step toward her, then another.
She turned around, resting her forearms on my shoulders, hooking her hands behind my neck. “Yes, Seamus, in that gorgeous suit. I thought you might impale me with that gorgeous cock”—she pointed toward the couch—“right there. I tested it out the other day, after everyone left.”
“You what?” I swallowed as she unhooked her hands and slid them down my chest. One she kept flat against me, the other she slid over my bulge.
Pleasure rippled through me. Jesus, I was weak for her. I thought about her on that couch, her fingers in her pussy, moaning my name…
“I was thinking of what we could do in here. I lifted my shirt up and pulled my jeans down and I fucked my fingers, making myself come while I thought of this.”
She squeezed her hand on my shaft and I growled, then grasped her jaw and kissed her, hard. Bruising, almost.
“I wasn’t going to do this with you tonight, Chelsea,” I said, encircling her wrists.
I walked her backward, entwining my fingers with hers, until we couldn’t go any further.
Then I raised her hands over her head, pinning her against the wall.
I drove my tongue into her waiting mouth, flicking at hers.
Then I nipped her jaw with my teeth. “I wasn’t going to fuck you Chelsea, but when you look at me like that, when you tell me what you just told me, and you look the way you do… ”
“What did I tell you, again?” she teased.
I gave a low chuckle. She knew this was the one place words came easily for me. They came because she knew I felt the effect they had on her, how I wanted to keep making it happen. It turned me on so fucking much to see desire widen her pupils; dampen her skin.
And other parts.
“You told me you came without me there,” I growled. “That you took your tits out of your shirt and stuck your hands down your pants. That you played with that sweet little pussy without me.”
She moaned, closing her eyes, and I transferred both her hands to one of mine, keeping them pinned over her.
I trailed my free hand down her neck and along her collar.
I slid my fingers under the bottom of her bra, gently sliding it up so her tits sprang free.
But I didn’t touch her. Instead, I ran the back of my hand between her breasts while she whimpered, her nipples puckered into tight buds. “You want me to touch you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
I ran a thumb over her nipple and she gasped, whimpering as I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger. I tugged at it, making her shake them for me.
There was a thud that must have come from next door, but it reminded me how little time we had.
“You better make it quick,” she said. “Before it’s too late.”
I pushed aside the pain that hit me at that. Luckily, I was so engorged now, it was all I could do to remember to breathe.
I unzipped my pants. Maybe we had more time. Maybe enough to lay out and stretch things out a bit. But I didn’t want to risk it. I couldn’t risk not feeling her wrapping herself around me one last time before everyone came flooding in and the night was no longer ours.
I kept her hands up over her head as I slipped my hand into her panties, my fingers seeking that part of her that made me go so tight with need.
She was hot and so wet already. I groaned, my cock straining against my suit. I slipped her panties down, then wasted no time in finding the nub of her clit. She moaned when I hit it, and for a moment I worked it until she was breathing fast, her pulse throbbing in her throat.
“Fuck me, Seamus. I want your cock. Right now.”
I pulled myself out of my pants and she strained against my hold, trying to reach for it. “No,” I said. “No touching.”
I bent down and took her nipple in my mouth, sucking on the hard pinkness, flicking it with my tongue.
While she moaned and arched her back for me, I lined my cock up under her slit.
I bit down on her nipple, just enough to distract her, and when she closed her eyes, I stood up and in one quick move, drove my cock into her hot, wet center.
She cried my name, but I knew she wasn’t in pain. Not like that first night, where I could see it edging through her pleasure.
She knew how to take me now. She held her breath, widening her legs so I could go all the way in. When my balls hit the bottom of her pussy, I shuddered with the pure, white-hot pleasure that shook me.
“Oh… God,” Chelsea breathed, her eyelids fluttering.
Finally, I let her hands go so I could better grab her hips. I lifted her so her pussy slid up my length, my whole body straining as I lifted her so my whole shaft slid out of her, only the tip remaining. I held her there a moment, pressing her against the wall, her toes barely touching the ground.
“You want it?” I asked, pulsing my tip in and out of her.
“Fuck, yes, I want it,” she said, straining. Sweat beaded at her temples.
I pulled her down hard onto my cock. She screamed so loud, her mouth open in pleasure, that I had to clap a hand over her lips.
I used the wall after that, pinning her against it with my cock, thrusting into her over and over, faster and faster, my balls tightening as she bit down on my hand.