Chapter 4
FOUR
Alivia
Iwas shocked. Shocked by how real this situation felt. Shocked by how much this stranger turned me on. In no way did this feel like a Hooked setup. It felt like I’d met this man in the wild and we had somehow ended up here, alone, seconds away from pouncing on one another.
Who was he?
Why did he feel so familiar?
And how did he possess the kind of superpower that made me want to immediately strip off my clothes, straddle his massive frame, and lose myself in him? How did he have the ability to make me forget everything Dean had said and done tonight?
He … just did.
With his mouth by my ear, he’d told me he was ready to inhale me. Now those words were repeating in my head, making this moment even more delicious.
“What are you waiting for?” I touched his chest. It was as hard as I’d suspected, his pecs completely solid, like the wood I was sitting on.
I squeezed the tops of his arms, and the muscles were wider than my fingers could stretch.
As I wrapped around them, inch by inch, there was no give. There was only firmness and definition.
Whatever this man did, he made his body a priority, which was the exact opposite of how I treated mine.
When he pulled back from my ear, his scruff dragged across my cheek, and my skin instantly broke out in goose bumps.
“Mmm,” I breathed.
What was it about that tiny bit of pain that made me want more?
“I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already moaning.”
His green eyes locked with mine, and a wave of heat hit my face. Each time that happened, I could feel my cheeks reddening. I was positive this time was no different. The vulnerability was partly what had made me blush, the unknown the other, but for some reason, I didn’t want to hide from it.
I wanted to lean into it.
So, I replied, “But you touched me just enough. Don’t stop. I want more.”
“I can tell.” His hand was on my neck, his grip strong. Powerful. Just how I wanted it to be. “And you’re going to get it, but in time. I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor you.”
“Why?”
“Because if I only get to taste you once, I’m going to make every second count.”
Why did that answer make me wetter?
Why did it make my heart pound and my stomach explode, like there were hundreds of butterflies in there, their wings tickling my insides?
He released my neck, and the palm of his hand pressed against my collarbone, moved to the center of my chest and then between my breasts, the top of my stomach, and stopped at the base of my shirt. A path that not only hardened my nipples, but made my back arch.
“No bra?”
I had let go of the wooden table, the surface, the edge, but I was right back to holding it. “I don’t wear one.”
“Interesting.”
“Not really.” I smiled. “I don’t see a need when there’s not much there, and there’s definitely no need to try to make them look bigger when I don’t mind them being small.”
My shirt was made of a stretchy, snug material, and as he bunched up the bottom, it clung against my chest even more.
Holding my stare, he stretched one of his arms above my head, and his hand landed on the wall, making our bodies even closer.
His mouth slowly dived toward me, and his lips surrounded my nipple, caressing it, tugging it through my shirt.
My moans got louder; my eyes closed when he started to bite.
I didn’t know when my hand had moved. The last I remembered, I was squeezing the lip of the table, and now I was sliding my fingers through the hard, stiff peaks of his hair.
My nails dug into his scalp when I felt his tongue.
A few quick flicks before his teeth returned, as if he was soothing what he’d just roughed up.
His tongue—his sweet side. His teeth—his dominant. And every time he alternated his teeth with his tongue, I heard myself getting noisier.
“Show them to me.”
My neck was back, my eyes still closed. I straightened my head, and just like every time I looked at him, I was blown away by how hot he was and how the desire in his stare was so focused on me.
“Feed me your nipples.”
I shimmied the shirt up my torso, and as I was lifting it over my head, his mouth was back.
The sensation was entirely different when there wasn’t any fabric between us.
When I could fully feel the warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue.
The unforgiving hardness of his teeth when my nipple was between them.
But when the ache came on—a sharp blast that skyrocketed through my body—the softness quickly followed, and I heard myself begging for more. “Please. I need it.” I drew in some air. “I need you.”
When I glanced down, his lips were parting to take one in. But that wasn’t the sexiest part of this. It was how he looked at me while he was doing it.
“They’re perfect.” He moved to the other side, sucking me into his mouth, urging the sounds out of me with his tongue.
“Don’t ever cover them with a bra.” His hand left my other nipple to slither down my body, undoing the button of my jeans and zipper so he could sink his fingers beneath my panties.
I couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt that good.
“I knew you needed me to touch your pussy.”
My arm shot up, my palm slamming against the wall. “Oh fuck.”
“But you’re even wetter than I thought you’d be.” His thumb was on my clit, tracing a circle around it. “Let’s see how tight you are.” He stayed on my clit, but rotated his hand so his fingers could bend across me. “Yes, just what I wanted. You’re fucking dripping.”
Nothing was inside me yet. He was just touching. Learning. Testing.
“I told you … I want you.”
As soon as the statement left my lips, he was suddenly gone.
He didn’t go far; he was gripping the waist of my jeans in a way that told me he was about to take them off.
“I need more room.” He slid them down my ankles, along with my panties, and once my flip-flops dropped to the floor, so did everything else.
There wasn’t a single thing covering me.
Not even a piece of jewelry.
“This is how I want you.” He spread my legs and bent my knees, placing my feet on the lip of the table. “Just like this. Don’t move.”
Even though he was close, his eyes were still able to cover me. All of me. Taking me in bit by bit. Every time his stare shifted, I felt more exposed.
And I felt more wanted.
“Sky … you’re fucking gorgeous.” His fingers wrapped around my neck, and he tilted my face back, his lips only hairs away from mine. “You know, I haven’t kissed you yet.”
Had I noticed?
I wasn’t sure. I was so worked up; everything inside me was humming.
“Do you want my mouth on yours?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need my mouth on yours?”
I didn’t know why, but his questions—every one he’d asked so far—ignited another flame within me, each one licking across my body like it was his tongue.
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
I went to respond, and he said, “You can have it here”—he placed a finger across my lips—“or here.” That same finger went between my legs and crossed my clit. “But you don’t get both. What are you going to choose?”
This wasn’t a fair game.
I wanted more.
I wanted everything.
I wanted his mouth on every inch of my body.
Why was he putting me in this position? At the same time, I hoped he put me in more positions like this because I’d never been asked anything so spicy.
“You’re mean.”
He chuckled, and I couldn’t get over how much I liked the sound. The grittiness behind his tone, the way it came across so alpha.
“You’re not going to think that once I make you come.”
I shivered.
There was no doubt in my mind that this man was extremely talented. He could probably make me come just by breathing on me.
“Pick one, Sky.”
Both spots were intimate.
And both wanted his attention.
But one, at the moment, seemed a little more personal. For some reason—a reason I couldn’t make sense of—I was drawn to that.
“Here.” I tapped my mouth. “That’s what I pick.”
He blinked several times, and I swore the green of his eyes darkened to an emerald. “Not what I thought you were going to say.”
“Because there’s alcohol on your tongue?”
“Because I thought you’d want to come on my face.”
I let out a laugh—I couldn’t help it. “Oh, I want that too. Don’t be fooled by my pick. This wasn’t easy, but it somehow feels right.”
His hands surrounded almost my entire face, his palms pressing into my cheeks. “Those lips …” His thumb rubbed across each one, similar to what he’d done to my clit. And once he was done covering them, he slipped his thumb inside my mouth, the pad going to my tongue.
“You taste good, don’t you?” His head shook, his gaze intensifying.
When he eventually pulled out his thumb, his lips seamlessly moved to mine.
As soon as they connected, I knew I’d picked the right option.
The alcohol was nothing more than a hint on his tongue.
Something that tasted foreign, but I didn’t hate it.
Maybe that was because I was so worked up that I couldn’t process the flavor.
Or maybe because it didn’t taste like the poison my heart had labeled it as.
But the taste of the booze wasn’t the only reason I was satisfied with my decision. All Whiskey was doing was kissing me, replacing my breath with his, giving me his tongue, and it was making everything inside me roar.
I reached for his collar, popping each of the buttons through the holes, until I got to the bottom and the two sides of his shirt were separated and he could slip his arms out.
With our lips still locked and my eyes closed, I couldn’t see his upper body.
The only thing I could do was feel my way around it.
So, I did.
My hands roamed, my fingers crawled, discovering muscles and grooves, thick hair, which I imagined was as dark as his head. A heavy chain hung from his neck, the cold metal such a drastic difference from his scorching skin.
I had just reached his abs when his hand left my face and returned to that throbbing spot between my legs—legs that were still bent, toes curled around the table.
I felt him on my clit first. A soft rubbing that turned harder as his kisses deepened.
But within a few seconds, as my palm bore down on his abs, the tip of his finger slid in.
It only took an inch before I realized my pussy was starving for attention and he was giving me just what I needed.
“Holy fuck.” He pulled his mouth away, his forehead now pressed to mine. “You’re so tight.”
He dipped in further while staying on my clit, the mix of the two causing me to pant. I found myself spreading my legs even more. And I found myself burying my fingers in his chest hair, squeezing the short hairs.
He was such a man, and I loved it.
“What”—I gasped—“are you doing to me?”
“Do you want me to stop?” His lips were so close to mine that his gritty tone vibrated against me.
“No. I want you to give me more.”
“You’re an impatient girl, Sky.”
“Do you have any idea how close I am to coming?”
“I know. I can feel it.”
“Oh my God.” As he sank all the way in, I banged my head against the wall, and I did it again because once wasn’t enough. “How does this feel … so … incredible?”
“Wait until I give you my dick.”
His other hand was moving around my body, finally settling on my nipple. The two were already sore from his teeth, the pinching he was doing only adding to it. But what that also did was send my orgasm into a spiral.
The tingles erupted, and my moaning turned into shouts.
“Yes! Fuck,” I cried.
From my pussy, the pleasure shot down my legs and up my chest, swirling, kneading, churning until it reached a hard, relentless peak.
Whiskey slammed our lips together, and the flavor of his tongue, the feel of his whiskers, the sound of his deep breaths took me straight over the edge.
I couldn’t breathe, even when I pulled my lips away, releasing long, deep exhales into his face, my body revving like an engine. “How did you … do that? With just a finger.”
“It was two fingers, not one.”
I didn’t react. I couldn’t.
“And I know my way around a pussy—that’s how I was able to do it.”
I held the sides of his head, my thumbs teasing the corners of his lips. “Whatever it was, I need more. Now.”