14. The Devil’s Paint
”EVENTUALLY?” THE WORD squeaks out as he draws my nipple into his mouth again. My eyes roll, but this time it”s for an entirely different reason than normal.
Tate laughs, the sound low and deep as it vibrates from his mouth to my body, adding another layer of sensation and making my pussy throb. His mouth pulls free but doesn”t go far. The slow swipe of his tongue across the crease where my boob meets my chest has me twitching.
Again.
Another jolt spears through me when his fingers roll my wet, pebbled nipple and his tongue makes another pass over that surprisingly sensitive spot. My fingers dig into his skin. “Holy shit that feels good.”
”You wanted a secret just between us.” The heat of his mouth trails across my body, headed for my neglected breast. ”I”ve gotta make it a secret worth keeping.”
I made the concession hoping it would give him time to work through whatever hang-ups are keeping him from recognizing the reality of our situation, but now I”m thinking it might not be a terrible idea for other reasons. Keeping this just between us makes it feel a little more special. A little more intimate.
And will spare me from having to explain everything to Lydia. I already had to do damage control after he stormed up to me at The Cellar, declared himself my husband, and dragged me off, leaving me to pretend I wasn’t doing the walk of shame as I came back. I’m not sure she’ll believe another concocted story about payback for cockblocking him at work.
It”s not that I want to keep this from my best friend, I just don”t quite know how she”ll react. Part of me thinks Lydia might worry about Tate. I don”t have the best track record when it comes to men. I tend to chew them up and spit them out, leaving them to pile up behind me. But I don”t want to chew Tate up.
I definitely wouldn”t spit him out.
I gasp when the scorching heat of his mouth clamps onto my other nipple, the flick of his tongue bringing my back off the bed. The sound that comes out of me is unflattering and unhinged, but I can”t help it. My vocal cords have a mind of their own right now. A mind controlled by the man playing my body like a freaking fiddle.
Or bass, in this situation.
I always thought I was just not the kind of girl who got loud during sex, but now I”m thinking maybe that”s not the case. The two times Tate and I were physical before, I did everything possible to stay silent. I knew if we got interrupted it would all stop, and I didn”t want our interactions to end until I was finished.
And boy did I finish.
But now there”s no one on the other side of the wall. No one to come barging through the door and ask what the fuck we’re doing. And my brain seems to know it. Because when Tate adds suction to whatever the fuck it is he”s doing, his name slips out, along with a long, loud moan.
His mouth pulls free and I fight for air, trying to drag in as much oxygen as I can to feed my starving brain. When I notice he”s working my stretchy shorts loose, I lift my butt off the mattress, eager to help him get his dick inside me any way I can.
But Tate makes no move to take off his own pants. Instead, he continues sliding lower. Low enough there”s no mistaking his intentions.
I clamp one hand between my thighs. ”What are you doing?”
Tate is undeterred by my blockade. Instead of stopping, he slides his tongue along the fingers protecting my pussy. ”It seems like you know what I”m doing.”
”Why would you do that?” I try to shift around, but his arms hook around my spread thighs, pinning me in place with his face right there.
Tate’s eyes lift to mine, narrowing. ”What do you mean, why would I do that?” His head cocks, like he”s trying to figure out what the fuck I”m getting at. ”Has no one ever licked your cunt before?”
All the air rushes from my lungs. ”It sounds so filthy when you say it like that.” In a good way. A very good way.
Tate leans down, the tip of his tongue teasing along the seam of my middle and ring fingers, sliding up to stop where they join my hand. ”Answer me, Piper.”
I swallow hard, staring down at him. The sight is unbelievably erotic, and I can”t make myself look away. I give my head a sharp shake. ”No.”
I”m not sure what I expect, but the slow smile that pulls across his lips is not it. ”Good. Now move your hand.”
I”m not sure what to do. Not sure how I feel about Tate doing that down there. I want it. A lot. But it feels like it might be too much. Like it might be one more thing I will never come back from.
”Just give me a little working room then.”
His tongue presses between the same two fingers, barely pushing them apart until he can reach what”s beneath. I suck in a breath at the wet glide over my heated skin. Even just that tiny bit feels so fucking good. Good enough that I separate my fingers a little more. Tate takes full advantage, dragging the flat of his tongue from my opening all the way up, stopping short of my clit, his path impeded by my makeshift blockade.
He groans against me, breath warm on my skin. ”Fuck. You taste so good.” He licks me again, stopping just beneath the spot I’m too afraid to allow him to reach. ”I could do this all fucking night, Sugar.” He stays at the cleft of my fingers, tucking his tongue up and under.
My body jolts and I make a strangled sound as it brushes against my clit. But Tate only does it once before sliding away, leaving me hanging.
“You sure you don’t want to move that hand?” Tate’s lips lock onto one of my knuckles, barely sucking as his tongue flicks rhythmically against the bump of my joint.
I do want to move my hand. Very much. I just…
I”m not sure what”s holding me back exactly. Is it simply that I don”t want him to ruin another act for any man who might be in my future since he’s been a little on the fence about his place there? Maybe.
It”s also likely I know this will bring me one step closer to falling for him completely, and that thought terrifies me.
He already occupies so many of my thoughts. So much of my day. So much of my life. I”m coming dangerously close to letting him have it all. To losing myself. To being so consumed by him that nothing else matters.
But this is just a secret. Something no one else will know about, and that means it”s almost like it”s not even happening, right?
Right..
Slowly, I pull my hand from between us, giving him the access he”s asked for. Anticipation curls in my belly as I wait for him to do something, but Tate’s eyes remain on mine. For a second I think he simply hasn’t noticed that my hand’s gone, but then he softly whispers, ”Good girl.”
Those two words melt my insides and light every nerve ending I have on fire, leaving me a burning, liquid pool of need.
I continue watching—even more unable to pull my eyes from him—as Tate’s mouth lowers, bypassing the area I just revealed to press against the inside of my thigh. The kiss is soft and sweet and gives me a second to breathe. He turns his head, placing another kiss on my opposite thigh in the same spot. I relax a little more, loosen the grip I have on the blankets under me.
His eyes come back to mine. ”Ready?”
My throat tightens because he”s being so careful. So considerate. Knows I”m nervous but also understands how much I want this.
I nod. ”Ready.”
His lips twitch, tipping into a little smirk. ”You think.”
That little taunt is enough to have me scoffing, the sound cutting off abruptly when his mouth meets my body. Changing to another unholy sound I can’t believe comes from me.
I’ve thought about this act. Imagined what it might feel like. How it might be. I wasn’t even close.
The slick, soft glide of his tongue steals the breath I still haven’t fully caught and has my thighs locking at his ears. “Holy shit.” My hands go back to grabbing at the blankets under me. I need to hold onto something, and I’m afraid if I grab Tate’s hair, I’ll pull every strand from his scalp.
Before when Tate and I came together it was frenzied and fast. Mindless and out of control. That’s not how this is.
Every move he makes is careful and precise. The second I suck in a breath or twitch, whatever caused the reaction is repeated until he has a whole arsenal of motions to use against me.
And then Tate attacks, circling his tongue around my clit as his fingers sink into my body, the new addition making my back arch away from the mattress.
He hums out a low, almost growly sound of satisfaction as his lips purse, the gentle sucking nearly making me come unglued as my pussy clenches around his stroking fingers. The flex of my walls makes him drag across something inside me.
“Ungh.”
The sound that comes out of me can best be described as a grunt and it lifts Tate’s eyes to my face. They stay locked on mine as his free hand releases my thigh and slides up to press against my lower belly, just above my pubic bone.
The next slide of his fingers drags against that spot even more and I fucking scream, unable to stop myself as the climax Tate’s been carefully building suddenly combusts, exploding through me with an intensity that seizes my muscles and steals any control I thought I had over my own body.
Because it’s not mine anymore. I think it might be his.
Tate’s motions slow, becoming leisurely and indulgent as I slowly come down, limp and pleasure drunk. As the length of his body eases up the mattress beside mine, a little of the haze clears and I roll toward him, ready to do a little touching and tasting of my own. I want to see if I can make him lose control as easily as he managed it with me.
I bet I can.
But when I try to slide my hand into his pants, Tate catches my wrist and lifts it to his mouth, brushing a kiss across the knuckles I foolishly put in his way before. “Not tonight.”
I start to argue, because that’s what I do. I argue. “But—”
Tate shakes his head as he loops my arm around his waist before pulling me close. “Just relax, Sugar. You’ve got a busy weekend coming up.”
I tuck my head under his chin, ear pressed to his chest, breathing deep as I listen to his heartbeat. I’m not sure how I feel about this evening being so one-sided, but it doesn’t seem like Tate is going to budge on that, so I try to relax like he requested. It’s not too tough since Tate’s tracing slow circles over my back, the slow drag of his fingers making my lids feel heavy.
“You never told me why you came over here.” His deep voice reverberates under my ear.
I blow out a breath, the weight of what we’re about to do coming back with a vengeance. “I’m nervous about tomorrow.” I’m not sure I would admit that to anyone but him. And I only do because it feels like we’re in this together. A team. “I’m afraid I’m going to fuck everything up.” I snuggle closer, the warmth of his skin just as soothing as his touch. “That I’m going to say or do the wrong thing and they’ll figure out I’m a heathen who colors her hair and shoots J?ger.”
Tate’s chin tucks so he can peer down at my face. “You like J?ger?”
I gape at him. “That’s what you’re focused on?”
“It’s the only part of that I’m really worried about.” He squints at me. “J?ger? Really?”
“Says the man who drinks gin.” I wrinkle my nose at him. “You have no room to judge me.”
“Gin doesn’t taste like fucking licorice.” His hand goes back to stroking my skin. “And you don’t need to worry about tomorrow. You want to help these women too much. I know you’re going to do whatever it takes to get them out of there.” He gives me a sly smile. “Including being a sweet, docile little wifey.”
“Ugh.” I let out a groan. “I’m about the least well-equipped woman to pull this off, you know that right?”
“I do know that.” His voice is soft. “That’s why I like you.”
“Right.” I snort as I rest my head back on his chest. “You just love that I’m a pain in the ass.”
“I do.” His lips rest on the top of my head, moving against my hair as he continues. “I like knowing you’ll never let anyone walk all over you.”
That’s an odd thing to like.
Then again, maybe it’s not. Maybe Tate carries the same kinds of fears I do. Worries that his future might someday look too much like his past.
“Hopefully you’re wrong, because tomorrow I have to pretend to be a doormat.” I sigh. “Which reminds me.” I make myself sit up, shivering at the loss of contact. “I need to finish getting ready.” My eyes drift to the pedicure I treated myself to when I got my cast off. “Can’t have the devil’s paint on my toes.”
Tate shifts behind me as I reach for my discarded bra. My fingers are barely wrapped around it when a super soft, Tate-scented T-shirt is dropped over my head. When it clears my face, I lift my brows at him. “This isn’t the one you just had on is it? Because that one was covered in the stuff you were putting on the wall seams.”
He chuckles as he continues working the shirt into place, dragging it over my shoulders. “No. This isn’t the one I was working in. This is the one I slept in last night.”
“You sleep in a shirt?” I help him out by lacing my arms through the holes. “I kinda figured you went au naturel.”
“So you were wondering how I sleep?” His lips curve into a slow smile as he works the fabric the rest of the way down. “Good to know.”
“I was just trying to be prepared.” I say it too loud and too fast, giving myself away. But instead of quitting while I’m ahead, I dig deeper. “We’re about to be sleeping in the same room. I didn’t want the sight of your dick swinging around to catch me off-guard.”
“Uh-huh.” Tate pushes off the bed and saunters through an open door to the left, flipping on the light to reveal a somewhat finished bathroom. “Sure, Sugar.”
“That’s all it was.” I sit up straighter, flailing around for my shorts because I feel real fucking exposed. “Are you saying you didn’t wonder the same thing?”
“Oh, I wondered the same thing.” Tate comes out of the bathroom carrying a rectangular metal can and a towel. “But it had nothing to do with our trip.” He settles onto the bed at my feet and pops the attached, cork-type lid on the can free before tipping some clear liquid out onto the towel. “It was selfish curiosity.” Lifting my unbooted foot into his lap, he goes to work gently removing the polish from my toes.
The sight of him, big and rough and capable of just about anything, carefully wiping away the hot pink swiped onto my nails, does something to my insides. Has me swallowing hard around a tightness in my throat.
I’ve spent so many years proving I’d never be a woman who makes a man her whole life—that I’d never be so obsessed that I catered to his every need and made his decisions mine—that it never occurred to me a man might not want something like that. That there might be a man who wanted to cater to me.
I don’t know exactly how I feel about that, but I do know I’ll never be an ungrateful ass who expects and takes advantage.
“Thank you.” It’s the best I can work up to show my appreciation. I’m too conflicted.
Too confused.
“You don’t have to thank me.” Tate finishes with my right foot and moves on to my left, looking over the sparkling pink brace he helped me hate a little less. “How’s this holding up?”
“Good.” I rub my lips together, wanting to thank him for that too. But considering he just told me not to thank him, I’m not sure how it would go over. “Can I ask you a question?”
Blue eyes lift to my face, holding a second before dropping back to his task. “Sure.”
“Why do you have acetone in your bathroom?”
He barks out a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting that.” He adds a little more of the chemical to the rag before finishing my last few toes. “I help out in the paint shop sometimes and I don’t like the feel of it on my skin. This takes it right off.”
“Makes sense.” I wiggle my paint free toes as he closes up the can and takes it and the towel back into the bathroom. When he comes out his expression is thoughtful.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Now it’s my turn to be hesitant. “Sure.”
Tate’s gaze darkens as it moves over where I sit in his bed. “What do you sleep in?”
Guess we’re both asking unexpected questions tonight.
“Usually nothing. But,” I give him a grin as I smooth down the shirt he put on me, “I think I might sleep in this from now on.”