Chapter 15
HARLOW
Surprisingly, the sex talk with Monroe went well and wasn’t nearly as awkward as I expected. I expected some uncomfortableness between Spencer and me after the other day, but he seemed normal, like it was completely forgotten for him, and he hasn’t felt the ghost of my touch like I have his.
He’s haunting more than just my memories now.
Jameson throws his arm around my neck, pulling me into his side and yanking me from my Spencer fueled thoughts. Guilt sours my stomach. “It’s just you and me for the rest of the weekend. What should we do?”
“I’m not sure. Do you have anything in mind?”
He scrunches his lips. “We could go to the bookstore and get dinner if you want.”
I bite my lip, trying to contain a laugh. “Is there a new comic book out that you want?”
“Babe.” He feigns a wince. “They’re not comic books. They’re graphic novels.”
He pinches my side playfully and I giggle. “Graphic novels, right. My bad.”
He lets his arm drop from my shoulder, but I barely have time to miss his touch before he’s taking my hand, entwining our fingers. We continue down the street and over a block to the small two-story bookstore he loves so much.
“Meet you at the front in thirty,” he says, already walking away in eagerness.
I don’t read often anymore. There’s not enough time between work, school, and being a mother, but I still find incredible comfort inside the store, surrounded by shelf after shelf of books.
I know Jae will probably be longer than thirty minutes. He tends to lose track of time in the store, but it never bothers me.
Heading to the back of the store and straight to the coffee shop I order an iced coffee to drink as I stroll around.
There’s a section of apparel and other odds and ends that are book related and that’s where I find myself. Picking up a coffee mug I shake my head in amusement.
I LIKE BIG BOOKS AND I CANNOT LIE.
I hold onto it to buy for Jameson, since I know he’ll get a kick out of it.
While I’m browsing, I also pick out a shirt for him that says; I closed my book to be here.
For Monroe, I pick up a new set of books she’s been asking for.
She’s only six, but she’s already a strong reader and I want to encourage that in her, so I always try to get her a new book here and there.
Lucky for me, the whole series boxset is discounted.
By the time Jameson makes it to the front, my coffee is long gone, and I’ve been checked out for at least fifteen minutes and sitting in one of the oversized chairs near the front.
“Shit,” he curses, bag dangling from his hands. “How long have you been waiting?”
“Not long.”
He cracks a smile. “Liar.”
I stand from the chair with the bag clasped in my hands. “I don’t mind.”
“Why are you so perfect?” He pulls me in for a quick kiss on the lips.
I’m not perfect,” I snort, walking out in front of him as he holds the door open for me.
“That’s right, you’re definitely not. Your breath smells terrible in the mornings and you’re a monster without coffee.”
Hey!” I push him away from me on the sidewalk. He laughs, clutching his side.
“You’re the one who said you weren’t perfect. But don’t worry”—he grabs for my hand, pulling me in closer to him— “I love those things about you.”
“Oh, really, huh?” I’m doubtful, because who likes bad breath and he’s right—I’m a bitch without my coffee.
“Yup”—he says assuredly— “because it makes you who you are.”
“Are you trying to butter me up?” I accuse, squeezing his hand between mine. His palm is soft, the little hairs on his knuckles coarse.
His impish grin reminds me of a naughty child who knows they’ve been caught. “Is it working?”
“Perhaps.” I give a tiny shrug. “But the night is young.”
Jae swings open the door to his place, letting me inside first. Reaching in, he flicks the lights on, illuminating his apartment in brightness. The overhead lights are stark, bathing everything in a clinical hue.
To my left is the spacious modern kitchen complete with white cabinets and white countertops.
In front of that is his living area with a sectional in front of a large flat screen over a fireplace—despite the fact we never need to turn it on.
The view out the large floor to ceiling windows isn’t the best, but there is the barest hint of the ocean between buildings if you’re looking in the daylight.
Jameson shuts the door, engaging the alarm. I follow him into the kitchen where he places the to-go box on the island and pulls out two forks from the drawer. He holds one out to me, his lips quirked on one side in a tiny grin.
“Dessert?”
I take the fork from him, biting my lip. “I thought in the car you said I was the dessert tonight?”
“Oh, you are.” He slides his glasses up his nose and I have no idea how he makes that movement suggestive, but he does. “But are you really going to pass this up?”
He flips the lid open, revealing the Oreo cheesecake he ordered to take home with us. Licking my lips, I admit, “No, I can’t pass anything Oreo up.”
It’s my greatest weakness in life.
Digging the fork into the cheesecake, I bring the bite to my lips. The moan that leaves me as the flavor hits my tongue, sounds like pure sex, even though I don’t intentionally mean for it too.
His eyelids lower, watching me swirl my tongue around the tongs to lick it clean before going in for another bite.
“This is delicious.” I close my eyes, savoring the taste.
“It is.” His voice has gone deeper and gruffer than normal. When I open my eyes, I find that he hasn’t even taken a bite but is instead watching me eat the dessert.
I dig in for another bite. “Here, have some.”
I hold the fork out to him and he wraps his lips around it. “Good. But you taste better.”
He takes the fork from my hand, grinning at my open-mouthed expression, and tosses it in the sink with a clang. Closing the lid on the box, he shoves it in the fridge before returning and picking me up so my legs go around his waist.
I bite my lip, wiggling my hips against the erection straining against his pants.
“I wasn’t done with that,” I protest weakly.
He reaches around my body, supporting me with one hand to push open his bedroom door. “You are now.” He nips at my jaw, a playful bite that promises more to come.
He sets me down beside his bed, his fingers working easily to undo the buttons running down the front of my dress. When he gets to the last one, I let the dress fall down my shoulders to pool at my ankles.
“Fuck.” The word is a throaty exhale. “God, you’re so beautiful.”
“You’re wearing too much.” I tug at his t-shirt, the cotton soft between my fingers. It’s one of his favorites, the black color more of a charcoal gray after enduring too many washes.
He chuckles and hooks his thumbs into the back of the collar, yanking it over his head. I glide my hands over his smooth stomach, gently trailing my fingers down the hair starting at his navel, but not reaching the end since his pants are still annoyingly on.
He grabs my hands in his, placing them back at my sides.
Angling my head up with a gentle press of his fingers beneath my chin, he says, “You’re mine to do with what I want right now. That means you keep your hands to yourself.”
My pussy clenches with desire at the command in his voice.
“But I have such a difficult time doing what I’m told,” I challenge.
He chuckles warmly, skimming his lips against my cheek. Tugging my earlobe between his teeth, he growls, “That’s fine. Punishing you is fun, too.”
He palms my ass, pulling me against him so my core lines up with his thigh.
He dives for my lips. The kiss is deliciously hot as his fingers tangle in my hair, and he holds me tight.
My body responds instantly, melting into him. My fingers itch to grab onto him, but I don’t want to defy him.
Yet.
His fingers skim up my spine, never breaking the kiss, until he finds the clasp of my bra, deftly unsnapping it. He tugs the garment down my arms letting it drop to the hardwood floor.
“Hold still.” He gets to his knees, looping his fingers into the elastic on my waist. Slowly, oh so slowly, he slides my underwear down. He places a kiss on my left hipbone, then my right. He angles his head back, staring up at me. “How did I get so lucky that you’re mine?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he spreads my legs, and his mouth closes over my core.
My head falls back, a gasp passing through my lips.
He moves his mouth with expert skill, having learned long ago what I like and how to use it to his advantage.
My fingers fold into fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands to keep from allowing myself to tug on his hair. I know crescent shaped indents will be left there.
A moan crawls up my throat as he sucks on my clit. “Please, let me touch you.”
I hate that I’m begging, but he knows not being able to touch him is pure torture for me. The bastard.
His mouth leaves my core and I mewl in protest. “No.”
The one word, biting and firm, before he licks my core again. My thighs shake despite his steady hold on them. I allow my body to bow over his, my hair falling forward to skim his naked back, but my hands stay firmly at my sides.
“Fuck, you taste good.” His voice rumbles against me, his breath against my pussy sending tiny pulses through my body.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond and doesn’t stop again either until an orgasm leaves my body trembling.
He holds my waist in his hands to steady me as he stands from the floor.
When he knows I’m not going to fall over he takes my cheeks in his hands, lowering his mouth over mine.
I taste myself on his lips as he kisses me.
His erection pushes against my stomach and I can’t help myself when my hand strokes the shape of it still trapped by his jeans and boxer-briefs.