Chapter 10 Piper
PIPER
“Same.” That one word is a low rumble that seems to vibrate through Felix’s chest and into mine.
“We’re going to regret this.”
“Probably.”
“Felix—”
His name hangs in the air as he cuts me off with a kiss that’s nothing like yesterday’s tentative exploration. This is a full-on claiming that says mine and now and fuck the consequences.
And I agree completely.
His mouth is hot and demanding, and his tongue slides against mine in a slow glide that tastes both sweet and spicy, a dichotomy I’m getting used to when it comes to Felix.
When my knees threaten to buckle, one strong arm bands around my waist while the other hand tangles in my hair.
He angles my head exactly where he wants it, and I answer with the same reckless heat, fingers spearing through his hair to yank him closer.
Until there’s no space left between us, and the only thing I can feel is the heat rolling off him in waves, the scrape of his stubble, and the dark sound he makes when I bite his lower lip and soothe it with my tongue.
That soft moan shoots straight to my core, lighting me up like the scoreboard after an overtime touchdown. The way Felix Barlowe kisses me gives new meaning to the phrase “the crowd goes wild.”
His hands drop to my waist, fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt to find bare skin. The calloused pads of his thumbs sweep over my ribs and trace the curve of my waist. I arch into him without thinking, needing more of what he has to give me. All of it.
My shirt rides higher, and his palms flatten against my back to pull me flush against him so I can feel every hard inch of him through our clothes. His hips roll once, and the promise of his thick length makes me gasp into his mouth. The friction is at once too much and not nearly enough.
“Bedroom,” I manage when we break apart. “Now.”
“As you wish,” he says and scoops me up like I weigh nothing.
Even with need and desire muddying my mind, I breathe out a soft laugh. “Felix Barlowe, did you just quote The Princess Bride to me?”
He takes the stairs two at a time. “Fuck yeah, Buttercup,” he whispers, which might be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
Somehow, he’s able to walk at the same time he scrapes his teeth across a spot just below my ear that makes me shiver.
“And I plan to make you scream my name,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Until you forget every reason this is a bad idea, and the only thing you can think about is how good I feel inside you. How wet you’ve been since the second I touched you. ”
Drenched, but I’m not admitting that quite yet.
He lays me down on his big bed, and I yank him down with me.
The solid, heavy weight of him settling between my thighs feels far too right.
His hips roll again, and my nails dig into his shoulders, urging him closer.
He braces himself on one forearm, the other hand sliding up my side to cup my breast through my shirt, and his thumb brushes over my nipple until it’s a tight peak.
The fabric is in the way, and I want it gone. Now.
“You can tell me to stop.” His lips smooth a trail along my jaw, and I gasp when he sucks my earlobe into his hot mouth. “Tell me all the reasons this is the worst fucking idea in the world.”
“Can’t think of a single one.” I fist his shirt, rip it over his head…
and hello, muscles. My hands trace the sharp planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs.
I lean up and drag my tongue across the faint scar on his collarbone, tasting salt and skin and Felix.
He shudders, hips jerking against mine. “Zero fucks to give about bad ideas, Felix. Zero.”
He growls, which I love, and then his hands are everywhere.
In my hair, on my skin, mapping me like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.
My shirt’s gone in a blink, and my bra quickly follows, flung across the room with a flick of his wrist. His eyes go dark, almost black, as he drinks me in, cataloging every inch.
He presses open-mouthed kisses along my throat, down the slope of one breast, until his mouth closes over my nipple.
I bow off the bed with a broken moan, fingers tangling in his hair to hold him there.
But he doesn’t seem in any hurry to move on.
He sucks hard, then uses his tongue to soothe me with slow, wet circles.
The sensation makes my head spin, and my hips arch up to meet his in a silent plea.
“Felix—”
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, switching sides to give the other breast the same treatment. His fingers roll the abandoned nipple between them until I’m writhing. “The way you say my name, like you’re begging and bossing me around all at once.”
His hand slides down my belly, and his fingers dip beneath my waistband to tease the edge of my panties.
He traces the lace, then slips beneath it, finding me slick and ready.
One finger slides through my folds, and I jolt with a sharp cry of pleasure.
“Christ, you’re soaked. This started downstairs, right? ”
The intensity of his gaze is both shocking and somehow freeing because I can tell how much he likes it. And I don’t even have it in me to be embarrassed. “Since the moment you touched me,” I admit, voice shaky.
“Say it again.”
I draw in a slow breath. “Make me.”
His smile remains boyish, but his laugh is pure sin. “Challenge accepted, sweetheart.”
He draws my leggings and panties down my legs, then tosses them aside and spreads me wide. His broad shoulders force my thighs apart, and he just looks. And looks some more. It’s like he’s starving, and I’m the buffet. I squirm under his scrutiny, hands fluttering to cover myself.
“Don’t you dare.” He catches my wrists with one hand while his other trails down my body, fingers skimming over my breasts and stomach and the curve of my hip. “Don’t ever hide from me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of one thigh. “Every damn inch of you is beautiful.”
Then—oh, God—his mouth is on me. His tongue drags up my slit in one long, filthy lick. A low moan escapes my lips, and my fingers grip the sheets. He hums out his approval, the vibration making my clit throb.
“Fuck, you taste better than I remembered,” he mutters, voice muffled against me.
His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he explores with broad strokes, then focused flicks, then suction that makes my vision go hazy at the edges.
Two thick fingers slide inside, curling to reach a spot that turns my spine to liquid.
He adds a third, stretching me open, and I whimper at the fullness, hips bucking to meet his hand.
“Felix, please.”
“That’s right,” he practically purrs as his fingers pump faster, that talented tongue brushing my clit in tight, perfect circles. “I need to feel you come on my tongue, Piper. I want you dripping down my chin.”
His wicked words add to the pleasure swirling through me like a windstorm. Pressure builds and coils in my belly, and when he sucks my clit into his mouth and crooks his fingers in the exact right way, I shatter.
I come hard, and I can’t stop my thighs from clamping around his head.
My back arches off the bed as a million sparkles shimmer behind my eyes.
He continues licking, sucking, and finger-fucking me through the aftershocks.
I’m a trembling mess, and I gasp his name like it’s the only word I’ve ever heard.
The orgasm rolls into a second one before he finally pulls back, pressing one last kiss to my inner thigh.
When he crawls back up my body, lips shiny with me, his smug cat-got-the-cream grin is infuriatingly hot. Or maybe the orgasms have blown away all my good sense. Either way, he kisses me deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue, and it’s so earthy and raw, I could come again just from that.
“Still think this is a bad idea?” he asks, voice supremely self-satisfied.
“The worst.” I smile against his lips, reaching into his shorts and boxers to wrap my hand around his cock.
He’s so hard, the head of his cock slick with precum, and the way he thrusts into my fist makes my insides clench with need all over again.
I slowly stroke him, my thumb circling the tip, spreading the wetness. “Now get naked.”
“So bossy.” He stands and shoves his shorts off the rest of the way. And sweet baby Jesus. He’s even bigger than my hazy tequila memory, long and thick as he fists himself, eyes locked on mine.
“See something you like?”
I lick my lips. “Come back here and find out.”
He settles between my thighs again, nudging my entrance with the blunt head of his cock, then freezes. “Shit. No condom.”
My heart stutters, and I know I should tell him now, but the words jam in my throat. Instead, I whisper, “We’re okay.”
His eyes search mine, and he lets out a slow breath. “You sure?”
I nod because my throat is tight with both guilt and desire.
He kisses me with a reverence that makes the back of my eyes sting, then pushes in, stretching me open inch by inch.
I gasp at the momentary burn that morphs into pleasure as he fills me, and his answering groan sounds like it’s been ripped from somewhere deep inside him.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to mine. “I’ve got you.”
I exhale shakily and wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass. “I’ve got you right back, Barlowe.”
“For as long as you want me,” he agrees, then starts to move—long, deep strokes that feel like some kind of carnal promise.
The angle shifts, and suddenly he hits a spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
He keeps changing the pace—slow and deep, then fast and shallow, then slow again—pushing me to the edge, but never letting me fall.
“Look at me,” he whispers. His gaze is fierce but also filled with tenderness. “I want to watch you come undone on my cock and feel you milk every drop out of me.”
His words are all I need to tumble over the edge of oblivion. I come again, raking my nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. He follows with a guttural curse, hips bucking wildly as he spills inside me, pulse after pulse, my name a ragged chant on his lips.
His weight is a delicious anchor as he collapses on top of me, then rolls us so I’m draped over his chest. One giant palm splays almost possessively over the curve of my ass, while his other hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together over his heart.
“Piper?” he murmurs into my hair.
“Mmm?”
“This doesn’t have to change anything.”
The words slice clean through the afterglow, and what a damn fool I am to think otherwise. I swallow hard, nodding against his chest even as my heart cracks open. “Of course not. I still hate you.”
He chuckles at the lie, then tightens his arm around me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. A moment later, his breathing evens out, and I know he’s fast asleep.
I stare at the ceiling and try not to notice his hand resting innocently on my still-flat stomach, but the secret I’m keeping settles over me like a blanket.
Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.
Tonight, I’m going to pretend Felix Barlowe’s arms are big enough to hold all my secrets and still want me anyway.