Chapter 17 #2
It’s several minutes before the band gets their act together and starts to play a song, which, after a few wobbly first notes, isn’t terrible. It’s a little genre-confused, with the lyrics sounding more punk than the love ballad tune deserves.
But by that time, I’ve got my arm around the back of Reese’s chair, and she’s leaning into me, humming along. I know she’s trying to show support to them, but I can’t help the laughter I have to choke down at the lyrics.
I rode my TransAm up to the gas station fast
To buy you a motherfucking bucket of gas!
And we don’t sleep with a knife under our pillow for nothing
Not when I want to give you a hot ring!
“What the hell is a hot ring?” I whisper in Reese’s ear. “It’s a sex move, right?”
This time she elbows me in the ribs, bending down to keep her laughter in check.
But the crowd’s gotten into it, and by the time the band finishes their set a half hour later, everyone’s up on their feet, cheering hard. The drummer tosses his stick on purpose this time, but he nails the bassist in the back of the head, and by then we’re all beside ourselves.
Reese leans into me, laughing so hard she can barely catch her breath.
I can’t help it, I throw my arm around her, pulling her close.
But I’m laughing too, and it feels natural.
She presses a hand onto my chest as she tries to catch her breath.
Suddenly, mine gets stuck right behind where her palm is spread across me.
My laughter falls away, not because I’m not enjoying myself, but because there’s nothing about this moment that could be better.
If nothing else happens after this—if we go back to pretending—I’ll remember this.
Reese’s soft body pressed against mine, the soft tickle of her hair against my neck, the floral scent of her shampoo in my nostrils over the venue’s strange olfactory mix of coffee and beer.
Her hand warm through the thin fabric of my shirt, and my arm hooked around her shoulder.
Except then I realize Reese isn’t laughing anymore either.
Though the crowd is still boisterous and cheering, the band on stage bowing over and over again, Reese and I are silent.
The external noise fades. It’s just us now, her eyes on mine, her lips parting slightly, my arm slipping off her shoulder, but not to let go.
Never to let go. To slip my hand up under her soft cascade of hair, to cup the back of her neck.
To bring her to me.
Her hand slides up my chest and I angle her so we’re facing each other now, chairs and table and crowd and band gone. It’s just me and Reese, and it’s just her that I want, with every part of me.
“Are you having fun yet?” I ask, leaning into her ear so she can hear me.
“There’s only one thing that could make it better,” she whispers back.
And I know what that thing is. So I pull back and give it to her. I press my lips to hers for a real kiss, not stolen like the one before, but given.
Taken.
Heat spikes wildly inside of me as I sweep her lip with my tongue, needing access like I need breath. I tilt her head back, stroking her tongue with mine now, taking what I’ve been wanting, what I’ve been fucking dreaming about ever since I took her in my arms back in her office that first day.
When she still looked like she hadn’t decided whether she wanted to kill me or fall in my arms.
Thank Christ she landed on this side.
It’s Reese who breaks the kiss, but only to cup her hands up around my head, her elbows pressed against my collarbone. She meets my eye, like she wants to say something, but I speak first.
“Do that again,” I rasp.
“What?” she breathes.
“Fucking kiss me, Reese. Just like that—”
But she doesn’t wait. She’s on me again, this time with a hunger, her tongue going first, finding mine, grazing my teeth, my lips, then her teeth pressing down on my lower lip.
This last part sends the already licking flames lower, heating my abdomen with something that pushes past any modicum of restraint I’d been holding on to. I slide my hands down, slipping them over her ass, clenching her perfect cheeks in my hands and pulling her onto me.
She lets out a gasp, and I know she feels my need for her. How could she not, when it’s straining like steel against my zipper.
But her eyes dart sideways, to where the crowd has started settling again, and she pulls away from me, looking embarrassed.
I hook my fingers through the belt loops at her hips. “No one’s watching,” I say.
“But they will be, if you keep doing what you’re doing,” she breathes.
I don’t need to ask her if she liked it. I can see by the way her nipples are hard enough to poke through her shirt. I want so badly to cup those tits, to run my thumbs over those hard points.
But she’s right, the crowd is settling, and we need to too.
But I don’t want to.
“Outside,” I rasp.
“Yes.”
I’ve never grabbed my coat faster. I help Reese into hers and then we’re walking out the door, my arm possessively slung over her shoulder. I want to press her up against the wall of the building, but it’s freezing outside, the air sharp like it might snow, though it’s only early November.
“There.” I lead us to my truck, my stiff cock making it slightly difficult to walk.
“Eli,” she says when we reach my truck. “I’m…I can’t have sex with you tonight.” She sounds worried, like this might upset me. I hate it.
I shoot her a look as I open her door. “What if I was going to say that first?”
It works, she laughs, but a crowd of college-age students is approaching down the sidewalk. I lean in and kiss her again, then whisper in her ear, “I’ll take anything, Reese. Even nothing is enough if I get to be with you.” Then before she can respond, I lift her up and set her in the seat.
“Where to, horndog?” I ask as I get in my side and start the engine.
She laughs again, but her hand slides over my thigh, coming dangerously close to the bulge between my legs. “Right here,” she whispers. Then she releases her belt and climbs over the console, straddling me.
“Christ,” I manage, as she hikes up her skirt and settles on me. I reach my hands up under her shirt, grazing my palms over the thin fabric of her bra. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on these all night,” I rasp.
“I have too,” Reese breathes. “Your mouth, maybe…”
My already thick dick throbs and I groan, bunching her shirt up in one hand as I pull down the top of her bra. Her breasts spring free, her rosebud nipples only inches from my lips.
“So perfect, Reese,” I say, before taking one in my mouth, stroking at the tight nub with my tongue.
I release it with a pop and Reese moans.
I can feel dampness as my cock leaks precum.
I switch to the other. “I’d almost forgotten how perfect.
” I stroke the other nipple with my tongue, lavishing its peaked end as Reese grinds herself against my crotch.
Shit.
“You can’t do that, baby,” I grit out, cupping her neck once more and pulling her lips down to mine. Her tongue flickers into my mouth before she pulls away. “Why not?”
“Because you’re making me want to fuck you, and we already said we weren’t doing that.”
Reese whimpers, her eyes hooded. A quick glance in the mirror tells me we’re still alone on this dark section of the street, so I risk slipping a hand under her, cupping my palm against her sex.
Now it’s my turn to groan. “You’re wet, Reese.” It’s a statement, not a question, because I can feel her slick heat against my skin, soaking through two layers of fabric.
For me.
“Yes,” she breathes, then grinds herself on the heel of my palm. “It’s been a long time, Eli.”
“Is that it? Or do you want me?” I’m getting greedy, I know it, but I need to know I’m not just any man. It wouldn’t matter with any of the faceless, dark encounters I’ve had in the years since we last touched each other like this. But with Reese, it does. “I want you to want me, Reese.”
She swallows. I can see the way her throat moves with it, and I bring my lips to the delicate skin there, kissing her, flicking my tongue against her.
I want to make a mark, to show everyone she’s mine even when I’m not with her, but she pulls away.
“I want you, Eli. Forget what I said before. I want you to take me here.”
“No.” I kiss her throat again.
“No?”
“No. I told you, I don’t want to yet. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to taste you.”
Reese shudders, taking my hand and pressing it against her cheek, my thumb at her bottom lip, puffy from my ravaging them a moment ago. She takes my thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip. My poor fucking cock nearly explodes.
“I said I’m tasting you,” I growl. I slide my hand back into her hair and tug backward, so her throat is exposed for me. Then I bring my other hand under her skirt, dipping under the waistband of her tights. We let out twin groans as my fingers press against her soaked panties.
“Fuck, Reese,” I groan, stroking her neck with my tongue. It’s how I want to lick her pussy. One long stroke to start.
Then absolute focus on her pleasure.
“People have told me I get intense about some things,” I say as I stroke the soaked gusset of her panties with the tips of my fingers. “That I obsess about them.”
Reese gasps as I slide a finger into her depths. I pull the finger toward me so I’m tugging at the sensitive padded mound of her G-spot.
She whimpers. “Eli—”
“I’m obsessed with you, Reese.”
I meant to say the words about her body, about what we’re doing. But as soon as they’re out I know that’s not all. I’m talking about her.
“I’m obsessed with you,” I repeat, whispering the words against her neck as I stroke her once more.
But I’m going to come in my fucking pants if I keep doing this.
And if she comes, I’m a fucking goner. Reluctantly, I remove my hand.
I pull her back with my other hand, still entangled in her hair, then slip the finger I just had inside her in my mouth, meeting her eye as I taste the sweet slickness of her.
Reese swallows, her throat bobbing, her pupils wide. “Eli, about what I said, maybe we could…”
But her eyes go wide, and I glance to the passenger side mirror. There are a group of people coming along the sidewalk, maybe thirty feet back.
“Maybe we could give them a show?” I tease.
Reese narrows her eyes, her lips twisting. I tug her skirt back down, and grip her hips to help her over to her side.
But she surprises me by dropping her face down and meeting my lips with hers. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she says against my mouth. “Would you stop me if I pulled your cock out right now, Eli? Took it in my mouth?”
I make a strangled sound as she slides her hand down over the bulge between my legs, gives me a squeeze that I’m surprised doesn’t make me wet my shorts like a fucking teenager.
Then, before I even know what’s happening, she’s up and off me, on her side of the truck, pulling her seat belt over her shoulder.
“I might just swallow,” she says sweetly, as the people pass by her window.
My heart thuds in my chest, my cock painfully squashed against my zipper. “You’re unbelievable,” I say.
She took back the upper hand, and I was helpless against her. Completely at her mercy.
But the best part isn’t what just happened. The best part is her face right now. A smile so wide it lights up the night sky. A laugh I feel in my goddamned soul.