Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
CHRISTINE
We don’t go to the bar. Barely even spare it a glance.
Fletcher drove us here in my car so I wouldn’t have to go back for it, and from the moment he opens my door for me to when we step into the elevator, he doesn’t take his hand off my lower back.
I always hated when Julian would do it. Something about it felt like he was claiming me, steering me around parties like a tool to be used and shown off.
Fletcher’s touch doesn’t feel anything like that. If anything it feels…protective.
I hadn’t planned on stopping in the High Dive tonight. But since it’s finally Julian’s weekend with Casey—the first time he’s spent with him since we finalized everything nearly a month ago—I thought I’d treat myself to a sunset yoga class.
The studio down the street has beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that face west—which is why their sunset class is always fully booked for a month in advance. Scoring a spot felt like a small miracle.
But there was not an ounce of zen to be found in that room. From the moment I arrived until the end of class, I could feel the daggers being glared at me.
Even the instructor pretended not to see me as I walked in, and she never came over to compliment my form the way she used to.
No one talked to me. No one looked me in the eyes.
No one was outwardly hostile , but that’s what made it so much worse.
The silence.
No one was even willing to put their mat next to mine.
It felt like being the only person not chosen in elementary gym class all over again.
That paired with getting booted from book club, the gossipy, self-important moms at Casey’s summer camp drop-offs, and Julian’s smug little face in my fresh-start house—I could’ve fucking screamed in the middle of downward facing dog.
So then I was driving home, and I passed the High Dive, and before I knew it, I was pulling into the lot.
I told myself it was for a drink. To blow off some steam.
But once I felt the overwhelming relief when I saw Fletcher…I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
This is what I walked into that bar for.
I don’t wait for him to make a move—the moment we step into my hotel room, I shove him against the wall, fist my hands in his shirt, and crush my lips to his.
If he’s surprised by this, he doesn’t show it at all. He kisses me back just as fiercely, like he has something he wants to drown out too. One hand comes up to protect the back of my head as he steps forward and presses us against the opposite wall.
A challenge then. He’s not going to give up control here easily.
His body cages me in as he kisses me in a way that has me gasping for air. His teeth, his tongue, his lips— fuck does he know how to use them.
He spreads my legs with his knee, and when I slide my hands up his chest, he seizes my wrists before I can get far and pins them over my head.
“This is purely a one-night thing,” I breathe.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes and smiles like he doesn’t believe that for a second.
I wish I could blame it on being drunk. But one glass of wine in? I’m barely even buzzed.
No, the fact of the matter is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since that first night at the bar.
I don’t know what someone his age is doing spending time with me, and I don’t care. My ego has taken a few too many blows this week, and I just need to get this out of my system.
That’s all.
I arch my back to let my breasts brush his chest, but I don’t get far before his hips pin me to the wall. He smirks against my lips. “You think you’re in charge here?”
“You think you are?”
He bites my bottom lip, hard, then sweeps his hands around my ass and hefts me into his arms before I have the chance to catch my breath.
Instead of the bed I’m expecting, he sets me on the dresser and stands between my legs.
The stubborn part of me wants to keep fighting back, but as his tongue sweeps into my mouth and he deepens the kiss, I can’t help it. I melt into him. And I think, for once in my life, I’d let someone tell me what to do.
Think I might even like it.
“Hold on to the back of the dresser.”
I do it without hesitation, and he lowers to his knees. He holds my gaze as his hands slide up the sides of my thighs beneath my dress, then hook around the waistband of my panties.
My chest heaves in anticipation, and he kisses the inside of my knee, then a little higher, higher. I hold my breath, but instead of continuing his path, he starts over on the other side.
I swallow hard, my fingers digging into the wood behind me.
“Chris?” he asks, his expression suddenly serious. “Are you sure?”
The sight of him on his knees and looking up at me through his lashes like that has me fighting the urge to press my thighs together.
“I’m sure.”
His answering smile is full of wicked promises as he pushes my dress up to my hips, baring me to him. “Are you holding on?”
I nod.
He hooks his arms under my knees, yanks me to the edge of the dresser, then lowers his mouth to me.
I gasp at the sure sweep of his tongue, and he tightens his arms around my hips, holding me still and bracing my legs over his shoulders.
There is nothing uncertain or shy about his movements. The way he uses his tongue is downright depraved. Sounds I’ve never heard come out of me before fill the room—whimpers, gasps, moans, and strange combinations of all three.
He eases off as he slides a finger inside, stroking me in all the right places like he already knows my body like the back of his hand.
I let out a startled gasp as his mouth crashes against mine, his tongue claiming my mouth as thoroughly as it claimed my pussy. But just as his fingers start to push me to the edge, he eases back, and I let out a frustrated groan.
“Not yet,” he whispers against my mouth with a smile. “See, I have some questions. And I have a feeling you might need a little extra motivation. If you want to come, answer me.”
I stare into his eyes, breathless. “What questions?”
He kisses my jaw, my throat, the side of my neck. “I want to know every single thing you like. Even the ones you’ve never dared to admit out loud. The things you think about when you get yourself off.”
He thrusts his fingers in deeper, harder, and my head falls back with a moan.
He hums and slides the strap of my dress off my shoulder, exposing one of my breasts. “I’ll start off easy.” He flicks my nipple with his tongue, and I shiver. “I think you like having me in control right now. Is that right?”
I whimper as he grinds the heel of his hand against my clit.
I nod.
“Out loud.”
“Yes,” I gasp.
He slowly trails his mouth across my chest until he slides the strap off my other shoulder.
“And I don’t think you want me to be gentle with you tonight. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
He takes my other nipple in his mouth and pulls lightly with his teeth.
I’m trembling against him, and I know he can feel it. Knows I will tell him anything he wants right now.
“And if I do this…?” He winds his fist around my hair and tugs gently.
I moan low in my throat. “Yes.”
“And this…” He trails his fingers down my neck, then slowly wraps them around my throat.
“Yes.”
He runs his nose along the side of my throat as his fingers hit that spot inside of me in a perfect rhythm. I lock my teeth together, so fucking close to the edge I feel it in the soles of my feet, the base of my spine.
“If I spank you?” he asks lowly in my ear.
I gulp, fighting to pull breath into my lungs. “Yes.”
“Only your ass?”
I shake my head. “Anywhere but my…face.” My legs shake around him, and I dig my nails into the wood so hard I’ll probably leave marks. “Fuck, please… please don’t stop.”
“Am I missing anything?” He presses his forehead to mine, forcing me to look at him. “Tell me the truth. Tell me what you want, Chris.”
“I want…” My eyes roll back with a groan. The heat inside me burns and blazes as it spreads, drowning out every other sensation. I can’t?—
“Tell me or I stop.”
“…you to keep talking,” I gasp.
He seals his mouth over mine as his fingers finally push me over the edge. The release is dizzying, devastating. It’s all-consuming enough that I forget where I am. I forget who I am. He eagerly swallows each moan in a tangle of tongues and teeth.
“You like that?” he murmurs against my lips, and I can feel him smiling. “You like me talking to you?”
I moan as his thumb slowly works my clit to help me back down.
One arm wraps around my waist, holding me to him as I go limp. I release the dresser, and my fingers ache from holding on so tightly.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he says.
I slide my hands over his shoulders, and then he’s carrying me to the bed. He kisses me again, slower, softer this time, and a corner of his mouth lifts.
“I’ll let you choose this one. How do you want me, Chris?”
He sets me on my feet, and I turn, then look up at him over my shoulder. “My zipper?”
He sifts through the dress bunched around my waist. It pools to my feet, and I smile in satisfaction when I hear his breath hitch.
Slowly, I crawl onto the bed, giving him a good, long look before keeping my knees firmly planted, then sliding my arms forward until my face meets the bed.
He lets out a curse under his breath, followed by the sound of him shoving his zipper down and discarding his pants. I press my cheek into the mattress to look at him, the word condom on the tip of my tongue, but he already has the packet in his hands.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. He’s standing at the edge of the bed as he rips the foil open, now as naked as I am, and very visibly as hard as I am wet. And the muscles on him. His abs, his chest, his arms. I could tell how well defined they were from touching him, but seeing it is an entirely different story.
Maybe I want a different position after all. One with a better view…
But then he’s on his knees behind me, and my eyes flutter shut as he runs the hard length of him along my pussy, pressing harder as he reaches my clit. He groans low in his chest as he lines himself up with my entrance and presses in an inch, then another.
“You’re going to fucking ruin me,” he rasps, then shoves the rest of the way in.