Chapter 15 #3
I savor the feel of her satin skin against my lips and the tighter flesh of her nipple beading against my tongue. Relish the hint of salt as I suck her, slow and gentle, then harder, deeper, summoning more moans and whimpers that go straight to my already suffering balls.
But two can play the “sweet torture” game, and I want to prove to her that I can leave it all on the field.
I turn my attention to her other breast, giving it the same squirm-inducing treatment before catching her nipple between my teeth and giving the softest bite.
Her hands claw into my shoulders as she shudders, curses, then calls my name.
“Patience, I’m not done tasting you yet,” I tease, tossing her words back to her as I flick my tongue over her pretty pink tips again. Back and forth, as I slide my hand down, skimming over her waist, the dip of her hip.
I trace the inside of her thigh with my thumb, her answering tremor echoing through me as she whimpers in protest. “Too gentle.”
“Better?” I ask, cupping her firmly through her soaked panties.
“Are you inside me?” she challenges.
“No, I don’t think I am,” I tease.
“Then, no, I’m not better,” she shoots back, pinching the skin at the back of my neck.
I smile against her breast, nipping her nipple again in response as I push her panties to one side. I slide my finger through her sweet, oh-so-slick pussy, torturing myself as much as my eager girl as I circle her clit with the lightest, feather-soft touch.
“Please, don’t tease,” she begs after a beat, her voice so strained, so desperate, even the edgiest edge lord wouldn’t have the heart to deny her.
I ramp up the pressure, letting my fingers grind over her clit as I glide two fingers inside her, summoning a groan of relief from deep in her chest. I fuck her with my hand, slow and steady, giving her clit plenty of attention with the heel of my hand, increasing the friction until she’s clinging to me, breath coming fast as she rides the wave higher.
Higher. Until her inner walls start to flutter. The knowledge that she’s close is all it takes to make my cock kick against my stomach.
“Look at me, baby,” I beg as I pull back. “Let me watch you. Fuck yes. Just like that.” Her eyes lock on mine, so honest and fearless, it makes it even harder to breathe. “God, Char, you’re so beautiful when you come for me,” I say as I continue to work her with my hand.
“So close,” she gasps, her bottom lip trembling as her muscles strain tight. “God, Nix, I’m so close.”
“Good,” I rasp, holding her gaze. “So, fucking good.”
I watch her climb, clinging to the last of my self-control by a thread. Watch her lips part. Her throat work. Watch pink spread from her chest, up her throat, to her cheeks as she begins to tremble.
“That’s it,” I grit out. “That’s right, sweetheart. Drench my fingers. Fuck, Char, I can’t wait to be inside you. Going to fuck you straight into a second one, baby. Going to make you come until you forget every dick but this dick.”
She reaches down, gripping my wrist with both hands and holding on tight as her hips go wild. She thrusts up hard and fast, her jaw falling open as she breaks with a sob that’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Ever seen.
Her pussy clutches at my fingers, fierce and wild, erasing what’s left of my rational mind. I surge on top of her, spreading her thighs wider with a sharp jerk of my knee as I reach down, replacing my fingers with my cock.
I thrust in, sharp and deep, her name ripping from my chest as her still pulsing body swallows me whole. She answers me with an equally feral cry as she locks her legs around my waist, the cool leather of her boots against my ass making the molten silk of her pussy feel even sweeter.
I bottom out in her heat.
Her slick, throbbing, perfect heat that’s already silently demanding more, even before she pants, “Hard. God, Baylor, fuck me hard. Fuck me so hard.”
I oblige her, an animal sound ripping from my chest as the heat builds fast. I brace one forearm by her head as I grip her waist with my free hand, holding her steady as she demands more.
I give her everything I’ve got. I fuck her until the headboard is slamming against the wall, until her high, desperate cries fill the room, only slightly louder than my suffering grunts as I fight to keep from coming too soon.
And then she leans in, trapping half my bicep between her teeth, biting down as she comes with a scream that’s only slightly muffled by the muscle filling her mouth, and that’s it.
As her pussy squeezes me tight again, I bury my face in her neck and come in sharp, white-hot jets. Pleasure so intense it’s almost painful twists through my core as I confess everything I’ve held back in groans and gasps and a sound way too close to a whimper to be manly.
But that’s okay.
I don’t always have to be “manly” with Char.
I can just be me.
Be the philosophy nerd who wants to talk about the things we’ve read, the scared brother desperate to keep his sister safe, the flawed human being who sometimes punches first and thinks about the consequences later.
The guy who wasn’t sure he’d ever feel this safe.
This right.
This home.
Afterward, we stay pressed close for a long time, foreheads touching as we catch our breath and our burning skin begins to cool.
Finally, I pull back, gazing into her eyes.
Eyes that don’t even try to hide their secrets.
“I like you like this,” I whisper, brushing her hair from her damp forehead with my knuckles.
She catches my wrist and kisses the inside, quick and soft. “Me, too. You should stay.”
“I will,” I promise.
That’s all I want.
To stay here. With her.
Maybe for the rest of my life.
Later, after we’ve eaten grilled cheese, leaned against the island in her kitchen…
After I’ve fucked her on the island, as well, and again in the shower, driving into her from behind until her knees buckle, and I have to hold her upright through what she later swears was the most intense orgasm of her life.
After I’ve preened about being the “best orgasm giver,” and been thoroughly teased, we climb under the covers, listening to one of Charlotte’s favorite instrumental albums drifting from the speakers hidden in the recesses of her tray ceiling.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur. “Who’s it by again?”
She doesn’t answer. I glance down to see her features already slack with sleep. She’s dead to the world, but her fingers still curl lightly into my T-shirt, as if to make sure I don’t run off while she’s unconscious.
I have zero intentions of running off.
I press a kiss to her hair, breathing in the scent of soap, shampoo, and the warm, perfect, faintly sweet smell of Charlotte.
My girl.
She really is mine now. I can feel it in my gut, in the way everything tight and fearful in me has unfurled and faded away.
No, we still haven’t gotten around to “the talk,” but we will.
And when we do, she’ll agree there’s no choice but to lock each other down and make this fake relationship the real deal.
I yawn, nearly as exhausted as she is, but wanting to let Bea know I won’t be home before I pass out.
I reach for my cell on the bedside table, doing my best not to wake Charlotte as I quickly text my sister—Staying over at Char’s. Call if you need anything. Leaving ringer on just in case. Be back first thing in the morning.
I don’t expect Beatrice to still be awake, but before I can set the phone down, a response swoops through—No need to rush on my account. I can make my own breakfast. Stay. Enjoy .
I thumb out—Okay. Maybe. If you’re sure.
I’m sure, she shoots back without missing a beat. And I’m happy for you, Bay. I’m so glad you found someone as wonderful as you are.
Chest tightening, I reply—Thanks. Why are you still up? Everything okay?
Totally okay. Great, actually—She adds a peacefully beaming emoji, then—I’m writing a song. A duet. Tonight was inspiring. It reminded me how much fun it can be to sing with someone who puts the music first.
I’m glad, I reply, fighting a yawn as I add, Can’t wait to hear it. Text you in the morning to let you know what time I’ll be home. Sleep well.
You too, she says, followed by a gif of two cartoon cats getting it on in a position straight out of the Kama Sutra.
Fighting a snort of laughter, I set my phone down and relax into the mattress, grinning up at the ceiling like a fool.
And maybe I am a fool.
Maybe this will end up being another lesson in disappointment, but I don’t think so.
This feels too right, too meant to be. Like Fate itself arranged for us to be in Parker’s house at the same time, both of us naked, a little lost, and horny enough that banging between the lettuce rows seemed like a good idea.
As I drift off, I have a passing thought that there should be lettuce in her wedding bouquet.
And maybe a zucchini…