Chapter Eighteen
Chase
At the sight of her, my mouth went dry, and my hands, fumbling with my buckle, went still. Her tall, lean frame was wrapped like a gift in black lace, so sheer it was almost nonexistent.
Her breasts, pert and little more than a handful, were pressed together by a bustier that perfectly matched the thong beneath. Her eyes glittered with heat.
I was reaching for her before I thought to do it, my fingers itching to touch all that skin.
I wanted Annabelle all the time.
At the end of a sixteen-hour day, sweaty and exhausted, in a coffee-stained T-shirt and torn jeans.
I'd want her wearing a trash bag.
But this, this confection of black lace with those spike heels and all that shiny cinnamon hair falling around her shoulders… This was beyond my wildest imagination.
She didn't notice me staring at her. Reaching out, she traced a fingertip over the tattoo on the right side of my chest, a design based on a circuit board, narrow lines and small circles in a branching grid-like pattern that wouldn't mean much to most people but meant everything to me.
Her touch was light, barely there. Lips parted and breath shallow, she traced her fingers along the pattern, dropping them to run along my ribs, then down, down, to skate across my hipbone.
Suddenly impatient, I picked her up and turned, laying her across the bed, leaving her there for a second while I shoved at my suit pants and kicked off my shoes.
Then I was on her, pulling her into my arms, my mouth on hers.
Saying I loved the black lace was a massive understatement, but I wanted it gone. I didn't want anything between us. I just wanted Annabelle. All of her, naked and open to my eyes and my body.
I fumbled with the hooks on the back of the bustier, pulling it free and baring those perfect breasts to my eyes. Cupping one in my hand, I closed my mouth over her nipple, pulling hard, teasing her with my lips and tongue, sucking and licking and tasting, drinking in the sounds of her moans.
Her hand closed over my cock, and I lost my breath.
I'd spent a lot of time fantasizing about what Annabelle might do if she ever got her hands on my cock, and none of it came close to the sheer pleasure of her fingers wrapped around me.
My mouth fell open against her breast as I pressed my face to her skin, shuddering a little at the effort of holding back. Reaching down, I pulled her hand away with a twinge of regret.
"Too good. I've been dreaming about you for too long. It's going to end before it starts if you keep doing that."
Annabelle answered by sliding her legs apart and urging me on top of her.
Too fast.
Too fast, but the head of my cock slid against her, slick and hot even though I hadn't even touched her yet. My body disconnected from my brain, I pressed forward, her tight, wet heat closing around my cock before I realized what I was doing and jerked back.
Condom.
Condom, you asshole.
Annabelle wasn't thinking straight. Annabelle had had at least five glasses of champagne, and I'd bet everything I had that she hadn't had sex in three years. Her brain was muddled with champagne and lust.
I wasn't much better, but I should've remembered the condom.
"Don't move. Don't fucking move."
I hadn't planned for this. Not exactly. But I'd hoped. Hoped enough to pack a box of condoms. I ripped at the cellophane outer layer, wondering why they made these things so fucking hard to open.
Frustrated and tantalized by the view of Annabelle reclined on the bed, legs still spread, propped up on her elbows, those sweet breasts on full view, hard nipples shiny from my mouth and pointing at the ceiling, her brown eyes heavy-lidded with desire, her mouth swollen from my kisses.
I jammed my thumb through the plastic and tore the cardboard box in half, snatching out a condom and opening it, suiting up in record time.
She welcomed me, wrapping her legs around my hips and her arms around my neck as if she'd been waiting for me for a lifetime. I pressed my forehead to hers, drowning in her eyes, as I pushed inside, dizzy from the sheer, blissful pleasure of her tight heat closing around me.
It almost killed me, but I went slow. So slow. She was tight. Almost too tight, and the last thing I wanted was to cause her any pain.
When I was seated to the hilt, I pressed my mouth to hers, kissing her in little bites. Her lips, her cheeks, her chin, her eyelashes still salty from tears.
She rocked up into me, grinding her clit into the base of my cock, and we both shuddered. I wanted to go slow, draw it out, make it last, but Annabelle moaned beneath me and my restraint snapped.
Cupping a hand over the curve of her ass, I pulled back and drove inside.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders, hanging on, her open mouth hot against my neck, her moan filling my ears as I fucked her hard, mindless, thinking only of her sounds of pleasure, chasing them, building her up until she screamed out my name.
I fucked her through the orgasm, barely letting her catch her breath before I pulled out and slid down her body, pressing her legs wide with my shoulders, my mouth closing over her pussy, licking and tasting, sucking her clit hard.
Her fingers sank into my hair, pulling, the pain its own kind of bliss.
I didn't care that my cock throbbed against the comforter, so ready to come. Once I got inside her again I wouldn't last long. But I needed to hear her, to feel her come for me one more time.
Something in the back of my head whispered that this might be my only chance.
When it was over, she'd regret it, and that would be it.
When it was over and the champagne and desire had faded, I might never get to touch her again.
I would take what I wanted now.
I drove two fingers inside her, sucking her clit and fucking her with my hand until she broke apart, pulling my hair and clamping her thighs around my head until I was deaf, blind and all I knew was her taste and the sweet, musky scent of her pussy.
Tremors wracked her body, fading bit by bit until her legs fell limp and wide, her fingers losing their grip on my hair.
Opening my eyes, I looked up to see her lazy grin, her lips parting to say, "Please. Come back. Please."
She didn't have to ask again. My grateful cock slid inside her heat. At the touch of her mouth on mine, her tongue flicking out to taste herself on my lips, I spilled inside her with a groan, half ecstasy, and half regret that it hadn't lasted a lifetime.
I had just enough energy to get up and take care of the condom before collapsing back into the bed and dragging the comforter over us. Annabelle rolled into me, nuzzling her face into the hollow of my neck with a satisfied sigh.
Her leg draped over mine, arm thrown across my chest, she drifted from a doze into sleep. I held her, hoping this wouldn't be the end. Sleep pulled me under before I was ready, the champagne and long-awaited orgasm overcoming my desire to stay awake.
Sometime in the night, I opened my eyes to see the other side of the bed empty.
I was reaching out to touch the still warm sheets when the door of the bathroom clicked open and a light flicked off.
Annabelle's long hair draped over her shoulders, hiding her breasts from view as she came back to bed, sliding beneath the sheets and into my arms as if she'd never left.
This time I went slowly, tasting every inch of her until she was sobbing beneath me with pleasure instead of tears, and I came inside her as hard as the first time, my need no less desperate despite having her only hours before.
I held her against me and hoped with everything I had that she'd still be here when I woke up.