Chapter 21
Wes
Isla rests her legs on my shoulders, presenting her perfect pussy to me.
My brain short-circuits, no words to be found when I reach for one to describe the vision before me.
I place my tongue flat against her clit, applying pressure until she lets out a contented sigh.
My tongue drags back and forth against her, as my hands explore up her body.
I’m as deliberate with my movements as she was, quickly bringing her to the edge.
Her legs shake, hands grasping at my hair and tugging when she gets close.
That’s my sign to ease back, to keep her teetering at the edge of her sanity.
“Wes…” she murmurs, fingernails digging into my forearms. My fingers keep pace with my tongue, flicking her hardened nipples. “Don’t stop.”
My right hand abandons her breast to slide two fingers inside her wet heat. I hook them, moving against her until her moans ratchet higher. It’s the fucking hottest sound I’ve ever heard. Isla’s legs thrash, her heels digging into my back.
“Your tongue,” she whimpers.
I slow my movements, teasing her, wanting the evidence of her desperation. And fuck does she deliver.
She bucks her hips against me. “Wes, now. I need you now.”
The impact of those words lands in my aching cock. My tongue massages her clit, one strong swipe against her, pressing down harder than I have before. She moans, the sound sending blood rushing to my groin.
“Come, baby.” I pull my fingers out of her, dragging my tongue through her center again and again. “Let me feel you come apart.”
Isla’s hands reach for mine, threading our fingers as she thrusts against my mouth, trying to push herself over the edge. Her body twitches as she spirals toward orgasm.
I want to encourage her, to tell her how fucking beautiful she looks riding my mouth, but nothing could drag me away from worshiping her.
She sucks in a sharp breath, rolling her hips against me once more, and detonates. Her body shudders, her movements uncoordinated as her orgasm rips through it. I keep my tongue in place, lightly licking her swollen clit until she pushes my forehead away.
“It’s too much,” she whimpers as her body goes limp, collapsing against the couch. She takes a few deep breaths, chest rising and falling until it settles to its baseline.
I run my fingers along her thigh, admiring the mess I’ve made of this woman. “This is the hottest moment of my life.”
I wait for embarrassment to hit me after that vulnerable admission. A fear that I could screw this up by showing my feelings too soon. But none comes. Because I want her to know where I stand. I’m not sure that I could hold these feelings in if I tried.
Isla propels into a sitting position, gaze clashing with mine. She’s distracting all over again, a reminder that I still haven’t taken care of the situation between my legs.
“You are so fucking perfect,” I sigh.
Her eyes lower, as color rushes into her cheeks. She starts to reply before abruptly cutting herself off when her eyes land on my cock. “Wes—” She shifts until she’s on her back again. “I’m going to need you to fuck my mouth.”
She states the words so matter-of-factly, and I’m afraid it’s my weakness. That brazen tone telling me what to do to her. I’ve never had a sexual experience like this before, one where I’m both in control and left at another person’s mercy.
My hand brushes against my dick, hard as a rock.
“You know how good I feel,” she whispers.
Her fingers brush against her hardened nipples, and I lose it. I grip my dick, pumping once, twice, then line myself up with her mouth.
“Fuck it,” I say, sliding home. Her warmth and softness surround me as I ease inside her until I hit the back of her throat. Her lips close around me, her cheeks hollowing out to tighten the space.
I withdraw from her mouth before pushing back in, my vision blackening at the edges. I won’t last long. She feels too fucking good.
“Tell me if you need me to stop.”
She hums in acknowledgment as her lips close tighter around my cock.
I pump in and out of her, in complete control of the speed of my movements but not of anything else.
Not the tingle shooting up my spine. Or the dig of her nails into my ass as she grips my hips.
I’m definitely not in control of the flood of possessiveness through my body from taking her like this.
“I’m almost there,” I groan.
I keep my movements strong but slow, wanting to drag this out as long as I can stand it. Isla’s tongue changes positions, licking down the side of my shaft before teasing the head.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant as her lips slide down my cock. My hips jerk as I come undone, and spill down her throat.
I slowly ease myself out of her mouth, sitting back on my heels as I catch my breath. She’s watching me, her fingers tracing over the satisfied smile on her face. I’m hit with this inexplicable wave of longing for her.
Fucking hell. I come apart, and all I want is to keep her close.
Isla rolls over until she’s sitting upright. “Feeling better?”
“Are you feeling better, Red?”
She sits on her heels folded beneath her body, mirroring my posture. “I’m great—”
I lunge forward, placing my lips onto hers, not ready to give up this closeness and head into the real world yet.
My hands land on either side of her face, threading into her hair.
She kisses me, a slow, deep slide against my lips to match mine.
Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer to her.
Cinnamon surrounds me, my new favorite scent — a rush of warmth, and safety, and exhilaration all in one. I run my hands down her body until they land on her bare hips, kneading into her soft skin.
“Okay, we should stop,” she says, pulling away from me, “or I’m going to need you again.”
I blow a breath. “I’m going to need you to stop saying things like that to me, Isla, or I’m going to need you again.”
She shoves my shoulder, laughing. “So, clothes then?”
“Clothes,” I agree, rising to my feet.
Isla puts her undergarments on, then slips her dress over her head. She flips her hair and begins to finger-comb. “You look good with a smile.”
I touch my lips and find that I am, indeed, wearing a full-mouth smile. And even with this realization, I can’t stop it. I can’t stop this giddy feeling in my chest. I can’t stop wanting to prolong every moment I share with her. And that’s when the truth hits me like a bolt of fucking lightning.
I’m falling in love with Isla Covington.
“Are you telling me I should smile more, Red?”
Isla smacks a hand to her mouth as laughter escapes her lips. The sight cleaves my chest in two. I’ve never seen her so relaxed before. When she’s on the ice, she’s so focused, intense. I like this look on her, strawberry cheeks, easy, radiant smile, hair tousled by my hands.
“Pot meet kettle, Covington.” I tug on the bottom of a strand of her hair. “But I’m not going to tell you to smile more because I’m selfish and I can’t stand the idea of anyone else getting to see you like this.”
She swallows hard. “You are the furthest thing from selfish, Wes.”
A war wages in my mind, between putting all my cards on the table or sprinting in the opposite direction.
What would’ve happened if she hadn’t lost my number? Would we have kept in touch? Could Isla and I have ended up in a relationship before we both learned the hard way that the people we love can inflict unimaginable pain on us?
I could find out if there’s any shot at making a relationship with her work—whether her head is anywhere in the same vicinity as mine—but I’m not sure I can survive laying myself bare to another person and have them toss me away like I’m nothing.
After enduring mistreatment, I don’t think Isla would be careless with another person’s heart, but not all hearts are broken with malice. She might not want to hurt me, but she’s gaining the power to devastate me.
I don’t need to decide this now.
Instead, I hold my hand out to her, marveling that she takes it, that she wants us to remain linked.
In my truck, Isla takes the middle seat, sliding close enough to rest her head on my shoulder.
She catches me off guard again, sending my thoughts spiraling in different directions.
I can’t ignore the undeniable kernel of hope that if I could convince her to spend time with me, she would see the future for the two of us that’s starting to crystallize in my mind.
“So, where are we going?” I ask.
“Home,” she replies. Isla’s tough as nails, but anyone would need time to recover after dealing with a family like that.
My heart sinks at the idea of ending this night. She thinks I agreed to come with her because my little brother asked me. I spend the next ten minutes talking myself into taking a risk. It isn’t until we’re a block away from her condo that I finally speak again.
“Isla?”
“Hmm?” The sound is coated in sleep.
I wait until I’m in the parking deck before running a finger against her cheek. “Isla, you’re home.”
Her eyes flutter open. She shifts to stare out the window and sits up.
“I want to spend more time with you,” I blurt out before I can talk myself out of it. “Away from the rink. Away from…everyone else. Just me and you.”
“Even after that trainwreck of a dinner?”
I nod.
“Well, of course you do.” She recovers some of her usual spunk, bumping her shoulder into mine in jest and repeating my words from earlier. “I’m incredible.”
I want her to give me shit for the rest of my life. To keep me on the edge of my seat, wondering what she’ll say next. To live in this sense of awe that I’m the one she chooses.
“So, Friday?” I ask.
She studies my expression, and I hold my breath, waiting for the verdict.
“Friday,” she agrees.
I slide my hand into her hair, bringing my lips to hers for a deep but quick kiss.
When I pull back, her eyes are still closed, mouth parted, like she wasn’t ready for it to end yet.
It takes every ounce of my willpower not to dive back in, but that’s not all I want from her, and I need her to know it.
“Friday,” I repeat with that same uncontrollable smile painted across my face.
It can’t come soon enough.