17. Libby
CHAPTER 17
Libby
F riday evening, I pull out the to-go containers and warm up some dinner. Yesterday was the first time I’d met Sonya’s family, but by the time I left, I felt like I was part of it. They were funny, loud, and the most genuine people I’d ever met.
And holy cow! The food was delicious. I’m sure I put on at least five pounds during the Thanksgiving lunch.
I’m rinsing my plate when I hear a knock at the door. I swear, if that’s Sonya trying to give me that damn sweet potato pie again…
I swing open the door and almost drop my teeth. It’s definitely not Sonya with a pie.
“Riggs, uh, hi. Happy belated Thanksgiving.”
He’s dressed in a baby-blue sweater, faded jeans, and a brown bomber jacket. He looks damn fine, though his hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. It only adds to his deliciousness.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Libby. You look… wow… you look beautiful.”
My blood warms as he runs his gaze up and down my fitted orange tee and yellow sweatpants.
“Uh, thanks. You look pretty dashing yourself.”
He shifts from foot to foot and finally asks, “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Oh, crap. Sure. I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you.”
Riggs strides in and crosses the room before staring at the wall for a few long seconds as I close the door. Then he begins to pace restlessly back and forth, one hand sliding through the top of his hair. He appears quite agitated.
“Riggs, are you okay?”
“Lucinda and I broke up yesterday,” he blurts.
My heart does an odd little flip-flop in my chest. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you love her.”
He stops walking and stares at me. “What makes you say that?”
Shit, why is he frowning? “It was obvious. You worked so hard to make her happy.”
His eyes clench closed, and he shakes his head. “No, I don’t love Lucinda. I never loved her. It was about my Nana Viv.”
I’m trying to decipher what the hell he’s talking about. “You’re in love with your grandmother?” My voice sounds kinda squeaky.
Riggs’s mouth drops open for a second, and then he bursts into laughter. “Liberty Hill, you always know how to make me smile. But no, I definitely don’t love my grandmother. Well, I do, but not like that .”
“I’m confused. Maybe you can explain.”
And he does. He tells me the whole crazy story where he was only staying with Lucinda because his grandmother is sick and he thought it would make her happy. Meanwhile, Nana knew almost the entire time that Lucinda wasn't right for her grandson. She was just waiting for him to realize it.
“Your nana is right about Lucinda not being right for you,” I say without thinking and then wince. “Sorry, that’s not my place to say.”
Riggs shakes his head. “No, I want to hear what you think.”
“It’s just, um, Lucinda doesn’t seem very down-to-earth, and you’re the sweetest, most normal guy I’ve ever met, despite being a bazillionaire.”
His lips twitch. “Actually, I’m only a millionaire.”
“Well, bless your heart,” I tell him in my best Texas drawl.
He chuckles, and then his face turns solemn as his blue eyes hold me captive. “Do you feel it, Liberty?”
A bolt of lightning shoots down my spine. The way he’s looking at me is just so… intense. “F-feel what?”
Riggs takes a step toward me, his gaze never leaving mine. “This. This thing between us.”
I watch his finger move back and forth between us like I can actually see the thing he’s talking about. “I don’t… I don’t know.”
His feet, clad in Gucci loafers, bring him another two steps closer, and I take an involuntary step back until my back is plastered against the door. He’s so close, I can smell his seductive aftershave.
“Do you think about me when we’re not together, Libby?”
“I do,” I admit immediately, like the man is sucking the truth from my mouth with that deep voice. “I know I shouldn’t, but—” I can’t finish that sentence because I have no good excuse.
“I think about you too,” he murmurs, and I resist the urge to look around for a hidden prank camera. “All the time.”
Riggs places his forearms on either side of my head, caging me against the door. He’s not touching me, but I can feel his heat radiating against my body like he’s the sun.
“What kind of thoughts?” I ask breathlessly, and he leans forward until I can feel his breath whisper against my ear.
“I think of watching sunrises with you. I think of playing on the beach and laying in the sun and swimming in the water. I think of eating meals with you, taking you for a drive, and dancing in the moonlight.”
“I like those thoughts.” My voice sounds like I’m talking through a bowl of Jell-O, thick and quivery.
“And then I think of putting my hands on you. My mouth.” He hesitates, and my eyes close as he seduces me into a trance with the rough rasp of his voice against my ear. “All over you, Libby.”
Sweet baby Jesus in a rocking chair! This man sorely underrated himself in the dirty talk category. He hasn’t uttered a single cock , pussy , or fuck , but he paints a provocative picture with his words and the gravel in his voice.
“Ohhh.” It’s a breathy moan, a single drawn-out syllable, but I think it gets the point across because he finally touches me. His forehead rests against mine, and we share the same breaths for a long moment.
“So, I ask you again. Liberty Hill, do you feel this thing between us?”
In answer, I lift one leg and hook it over his hip as my chin tilts forward a scant inch until our lips are touching. “I feel it,” I whisper, and in the next second, Riggs Romero is kissing me.
No, that’s not quite accurate. He’s fucking consuming me. His lips pull mine with perfect suction, over and over as he drops one hand to cup my face.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you on that plane,” he says. “Since I caught you staring at my dick.”
“It was market research,” I argue, and he chuckles as his nose nuzzles mine.
“Did you get all the data you needed?”
Infused with an unexplained boldness, I purr against his lips, “Not yet.”
“Fuck,” he curses a second before covering my mouth with his own. His warm tongue parts my lips, and he takes a half step forward, closing the distance between us.
Heat infuses me as soon as our tongues make contact, circling tentatively at first, before engaging in an all-out battle for supremacy. He wins, hands down, taking control of the kiss. Of me.
I’m a limp noodle, held up only by the door at my back and Riggs’s big, hard body at my front. And he is hard ev-er-y-where. My hips jerk involuntarily, and we let out mutual groans as the firm ridge of him nestles exactly where we both need it.
His hips roll, and he’s far from tentative now. No, he’s dominant and powerful, sliding one hand to my knee that’s still wrapped over his hip and yanking my leg farther around him. I almost orgasm on the spot.
Riggs pulls his mouth away, his breaths ragged against my wet lips and his eyes showing the haze of lust. “I’m sorry, Libby. This isn’t what I came over here for. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“We talked,” I point out, nipping his bottom lip, and he groans. “Now, do you have more to discuss, or can we get to the good stuff?” I ask impatiently, digging the back of my bare foot against his butt and locking him to me.
His grin is slow and goddamn sexy as he circles his thick erection against my pussy. “I vote for the good stuff.”
“It’s unanimous then.”
Riggs trails his lips across my cheeks and to my ear. “You want me to fuck you, Libby-girl?” His hips thrust gently against my needy sex, and I nod.
That’s apparently not satisfactory because he fists my long hair and jerks my head back until I can see his eyes. They blaze like the hot, blue fire at the center of a flame.
“Say. The. Words,” he growls. “I want to hear it from those full red lips.” His thumb swipes over my bottom lip, and I open my mouth and take the tip inside. Riggs’s nostrils flare when I take it deeper, sucking hard and cupping my tongue around the pad.
Then I release it and drop a hand between us to grip his hard length. And it is quite… lengthy. And girthy. Holy shit, he’s going to break me with that thing.
My voice is raspy and sweet. “Please fuck me with this big, hard cock, Riggs.”
His chest rumbles in satisfaction, and he drops my leg, taking a couple steps back as he shrugs off his jacket. “Undress, baby.”
I’ve never gotten into it when a man calls me baby, but I’m fucking into it now. Riggs Romero could recite a list of cleaning products with that deep voice, and I’d bow at his feet and beg for more.
I can’t help but stare when he tugs off his sweater. The veins of his forearms are barely covered by the perfect smattering of dark hair, and I want to trace each one with my tongue.
Riggs looks up at me and lifts an eyebrow, like he’s waiting for something. I have the feeling I’m supposed to be doing something, but this damn sexual brain fog has my head in the clouds. Oh. Wait. He told me to get undressed.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “You distracted me with your forearm porn show.”
His mouth quirks up on one side, and I’ll be damned; smug looks good on Riggs Romero. Damn good.
“After reading your books, I’ve always wondered if you had a forearm fetish,” he tells me, stepping forward with mischief in his eyes.
I lower my eyebrows. “It’s really more of an appreciation than a fetish. But they have to be good forearms, muscled, veiny.” He props one hand against the wall beside my head, and I’m momentarily distracted by the muscled, veiny arm right fucking there .
Continuing, I say, “They have to have the perfect amount of hair, just a dusting.” Like yours. “Not Chewbacca-level. And some…” I pause when he places his other hand on the wall, and now there are two orgasm-inducing forearms bracketing my face. “Some well-placed tats are always good,” I squeak a second before I turn my head and bite his left arm, circling my tongue against the warm skin between my teeth.
We both groan when I release him and trace one bulging vein with the tip of my tongue. “God. Damn,” he grunts as I move to the sensitive underside and lap at another vessel.
Then his arms are gone, and his fingers rip my T-shirt over my head.
“You seem a little impatient, Riggs. You’re not a premature ejaculator, are you?” I ask in a teasing voice as he makes quick work of my pants.
They fall to the floor, and his eyes rove my body, clad only in a nude bra and panty set. “I’ve never had that problem before,” he assures me as his gaze roams. “But I’m not making any promises with you, Libby. I’m ready to blow right now. You are fucking stunning.”
I can feel the flush from desire and his praise rising up my neck, and he traces the pink flow with gentle fingers.
Then he drops to his knees, and dear lord! My panties are drenched.
“I’ve been dreaming of how your pussy would taste when it melts on my tongue,” Riggs says, sliding my underwear down my legs.
“I… oh!” I yelp when he hauls my left leg over his shoulder. “That, um, sounds like something you should investigate.”
“Oh, I plan to, Libby-girl. Thoroughly.” He licks the arousal from the inside of my thigh, and my standing leg almost buckles. “I just need to get close enough to the target.”
Holy fucking hell. I hope he’s not all talk and knows how to actually locate the target .
That hope is fulfilled when he drags his tongue through the lips of my sex and immediately zeros in on my clit.
“Oh. Wow. You… you found it,” I pant, grinning goofily as my head falls back against the door. “Congratulations, you’re now in the top tenth percentile of men in the world.”
He closes his eyes and savors me with another long lick. “Mmmm, baby, I’m going to eat you so good and make you come so hard, I’ll skyrocket into the top one percent before your legs stop shaking.”
Mother of fuck! That was a damn good line, and I kinda want to pull a Gemma and write it down to use in a book. But all thoughts of writing are dispelled as Riggs really starts to go to town on my sex.
He shoves his entire face between my legs and licks me like a man possessed. His frequent hums of pure pleasure make my clit throb in time with my racing heartbeat. He’s enjoying himself as much as I am.
With one hand, I grip the top of the door frame to steady myself, and with the other, I thread my fingers through his hair. It’s thick and soft, just like I knew it would be on those nights I fantasized about this.
“Mmmmm, this is the best pussy I’ve ever tasted,” Riggs moans against me. “I want to eat it until I get fucking lockjaw.”
“Holy shit, that feels good,” I breathe as he slides one finger inside me. It searches against my inner walls until he finds a spot that makes my hips jerk, and he smiles smugly into my crotch.
“There it is.” He adds another finger, and the tips of both give my G-spot the attention she so desperately needs. He finger-fucks me slowly and adds some kind of fucking swirl thing with every thrust. Out… in… swirl. Out… in… swirl.
Meanwhile his lips latch onto my clit, and he sucks as his free hand drops to his cock. Tilting my head to the side, I can see the impressive bulge in his pants.
“Dear god, Riggs. Let me see it.” I don’t have to specify. He knows what I want.
One handed, he unfastens his pants while his mouth and fingers never stop their sweet torture. When he pulls his cock out, I gasp. That fucking thing looks brutal, the enormous purple head crowning a thick, rigid shaft.
“I want to watch you stroke it while I come on your face.”
“Fuck, baby.” The vibration of his moan sets me directly on the edge of an orgasm. And when he begins fucking his tight fist, the edge crumbles away, and I fall into the blissful depths of my climax.
“Riggs!” I call out as I see kaleidoscope colors around the edges of my vision. His cheeks hollow with the strength of his suction, his fingers pump me, and his hand jerks that big ole cock.
Finally, his movements slow as he brings me out of the stratosphere, and I loosen my hold on his hair.
“I need to add a few more rows to your spreadsheet,” I pant as he gives me one last lick and grins up at me.
Then he stands and holds my face with both hands. “You are breathtaking when you come for me, Libby-girl.”
I seriously feel like I’m in one of my books right now. Glancing down at the cock standing at attention, I say, “That’s a very book-boyfriend-worthy penis you have there, Mr. Romero.”
He laughs. “Is this where you’re supposed to get all concerned about it fitting inside you?”
Pressing my tits against his chest, I drag my tongue along his bottom lip and purr my response. “We’ll make it fit, baby.”
With his mouth hovering over mine, he murmurs, “I think that’s my line.”
“What can I say? Orgasms make me sassy.”
He chuckles. “Then prepare to be sassy for the rest of the night, Libby, because I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”