Chapter 2
Charlie
“Hey, Angel,” Dillon calls as soon as I step through our apartment door. I can hear the faint echo of gunshots coming from the television, but it cuts out a second later, and my boyfriend appears in the small foyer, giving me a wide smile. “How was your day?”
His jaw is covered in dark shadow, and he’s still dressed in the pressed pants and navy dress shirt he wore to work, although it’s untucked with several buttons opened at his throat.
His dark hair is flopping messily over his forehead, giving him a boyish look as he approaches, planting a quick kiss on my lips.
My smile feels fractured. Dillon doesn’t seem to notice as he pushes my overcoat down my arms, taking it from me and hanging it up in the coat closet for me. “It was good. Busy.”
“How was dinner?” he asks, and then grimaces at the expression on my face. He takes my hand, leading me into the kitchen. “Well, I bought a bottle of your favorite wine on my way home. I figured you’d need it. And your book—”
I groan, dropping my head back. “I left my books in the car.”
“More books, huh? You’re going to run out of shelf space soon.
” His smile is crooked as he grabs the bottle from the fridge, popping the cork with quick movements.
I pull a wineglass out of the cabinet, setting it in front of him, deciding now is not the time to tell him about the three boxes of books that are stacked in the corner of my best friend’s living room.
“How was your day?” I ask instead.
Dillon shrugs. “Same as every other day. Jack’s gunning for a senior associate position, which means he’s insufferable.
” He shakes his head as he turns from the fridge, pulling out a beer and twisting the cap off.
“I’ve known the guy for a decade, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his competitiveness. ”
I lean against the white counter, watching him over the rim of my glass. “You don’t sound like you’re interested in the promotion.”
Dillon rubs his neck. “I’m ambitious, don’t get me wrong, but I’m enjoying where I am right now, you know? And competing with Jack—” He grimaces, and I chuckle.
“I never knew the finance world was so cutthroat.” I set my glass down and round the kitchen island, adding an extra sway to my hips. Dillon tracks me, heat flaring to life in his hazel eyes.
He swallows roughly. “I know it’s not quite like a bookstore,” he says playfully, thumping his bottle on the counter as I reach up and pull each button free of his shirt, enjoying the slow tease as more of his tanned torso is revealed.
Dillon might be on the leaner side, but he works hard at keeping himself in shape—another competitive facet of his friendship with Jack—and I definitely reap the benefits.
I lean forward, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “You definitely wouldn’t understand the chaos I experience on a day-to-day basis.”
He chuckles roughly, his hands landing on the curves of my hips, digging into my flesh. “I bet you need to work off your stress, Angel.”
I look up at him through my lashes. “Do you think you could help me with th—” The last word is cut off with a cry of surprise as he lifts me onto the counter. “Dillon!”
“What?” he asks distractedly, sliding a hand into my hair and fisting the strands. His other hand is sliding under my shirt, trailing over the swell of my stomach—and I immediately try to suck it in.
“You could hurt yourself, lifting me like that,” I scold.
Dillon shakes his head with a disappointed sigh. “One day, you’re gonna trust me,” he says, straightening up so he can finish unbuttoning his shirt and dropping it to the floor.
“I do trust you,” I protest as he steps between my thighs, roughly yanking my shirt off, leaving me sitting there in a black bra and leggings.
“Do you?” He raises a dark brow, tracing his finger over the edge of my bra, and goose bumps dimple my skin.
“I’m—”
Dillon presses a finger to my lips, his expression darkening with displeasure. “You,” he says firmly, “are perfect. And you’re going to let me show you.”
There are no more words after that as his finger slowly drops away, dragging my bottom lip with it, and then his mouth is there, slanting against mine, tongue tangling with my own.
Dillon’s deft fingers make quick work of my bra, yanking the straps down my arms and flinging it away, his lips never breaking from mine.
One hand cups the full globe of my breast, testing the weight in his palm before he pinches my nipple, making me gasp as he swallows the sound.
“I want to taste you,” Dillon whispers against my lips. He leans back, our eyes locking, his pupils already blown wide. His hand has dropped to the waistband of my leggings, tugging at them playfully. “Will you let me?”
I’m practically panting, desire spiraling through me. “Here?” I ask weakly. “We’re in the kitchen.”
His smile is wicked, driving out every word my mother spat at me over dinner, giving me only silence and reassurance that I’m wanted.
“Perfect place for a meal.” He hooks both hands into my leggings and panties, yanking them down my legs, barely giving me a chance to lift up to help him.
The counter is freezing against my bare skin, but Dillon barely gives me a chance to adjust before he’s pushing against my sternum, encouraging me to lie back.
He’s standing over me, his eyes locked on my pussy, and my chest warms with embarrassment, blood surging into my cheeks. My hands drop to cover my stomach, and I try to close my legs, but his hips block the attempt.
Dillon tuts his tongue. “No hiding,” he orders. “I missed you today, and I want to see all of you, Angel.” The endearment—something he’s called me from the first time he stumbled into Spellbound Books—has my breath hitching in my throat. He doesn’t miss it, his smile widening. “Good girl.”
Another shiver racks me, even as I growl, “You asshole!”
“I might not have a praise kink,” he murmurs, “but I’m not sure degradation is my thing, either.”
Before I can think of a comeback, he’s lowered his head to between my legs, pressing his mouth to my pussy, his tongue immediately swirling around my swollen clit.
He doesn’t settle into a consistent rhythm, playing my body like an instrument, dragging me right to the edge of release and then back again.
My hands are in his hair, tugging at him ruthlessly, my hips writhing until I’m basically fucking his face. Rational thought has completely fled as he bands one arm over my hips, holding me in place, his other fingers sliding through my slick folds.
“So wet,” Dillon murmurs against me, the vibration of his voice making me groan. “Is this all for me, baby?”
I yank on his hair. “Stop teasing me!”
I don’t know how, but I feel his smirk. “Okay, baby.” His fingers find my entrance, and that’s the only warning I get before he’s driving them into me, his arm moving hard and fast as he pumps them deeply.
He curls them in a come here motion, dragging them against that sensitive spot, and then I explode.
I throw my head back as I cry out, everything—even my teeth—throbbing in time with my pulse as the orgasm washes over me.
Dillon presses soft kisses to my sensitive clit, his fingers still thrusting, but slowing, easing me down. “Fucking beautiful.”
He pulls his fingers from me with a sloppy sound that makes me whimper, and straightens, his lips and chin coated in my release.
His dark eyes meet mine, his mouth curving as he plants a hand by my hip.
He doesn’t let my eyes go as he drags the wet fingers of his free hand over my nipple.
Dillon drops his head, sipping at the tight bud, and I clamp down around nothing.
He grazes his teeth against me before releasing me with a pop, moving to the other breast and giving it the same treatment.
My thoughts are fuzzy and slow, my whole body fine-tuned to his, desperate for more. “Take me to bed,” I whisper, dragging my nails against the sensitive skin of his neck, smiling when he shudders against me.
Dillon releases my nipple with a pop, his lips wet with saliva. He stands back, yanking me upright. I crash into him, his arms around me and his mouth on mine, tasting of me—musky and strange, but erotic all at once.
“Not done, baby?” he teases softly. He lifts me, and I quickly wrap my arms and legs around him as he stalks to our bedroom, his fingers kneading my ass. He kisses the corner of my lips, my cheek, jaw, and then my throat, his teeth nipping at my skin.
“I want you,” I breathe against his ear. “I need you to fill me up. Mark me as yours.”
“You’re in such a rush, Angel,” he says, sliding me down to the floor, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs brushing against the rough fabric of his pants. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
I smile saucily. “You’re right.” I cup the hard bulge in his pants, fitting my fingers around his cock, grinding my palm against him. “There’s no rush, hm?”
His breath hisses out before he knocks my hand away, undoing his pants.
He shoves them and his boxer briefs down to his thighs, and then grabs my hand, putting it right on his dick.
I don’t hesitate, jacking him roughly, twisting my wrist as I reach the crown of his cock, sliding my thumb through the pre-cum dripping from his slit.
The tendons strain in Dillon’s neck as he pants. His skin is damp with perspiration, his hair tousled and standing on end. The sharp edges of his cheekbones are flushed a dull red, and I move my hand faster, desperate to see him lose control.
It’s not happening fast enough, so I drop heavily to my knees, not giving him even a second before I’m swallowing his cock, bobbing my head on him as his salty taste fills my mouth.
“Ah, shit!” Dillon curses. He doesn’t pull me away, his hands cupping my head and forcing more of his length into me. He pulls back until just the tip is resting on my tongue, his hips giving short, jerky thrusts. “Fuck, no. No. Not coming in your mouth, baby.”