24. Jacinthe
Jacinthe
I don’t hesitate.
I pounce on her.
She keeps hold of my face while I thread one hand into her hair and yank on her shirt with the other. Our mouths lock together in a kiss so famished it feels like fury.
I hear a few threads snap and try to pull away, but Tess catches my wrist.
“God, yes,” she begs. “Just take it off.”
I look down and realize I’ve ripped one of the buttons of her shirt off. I try to be more careful with the others, but I still snap a few threads as I work my fingers over the other buttons.
Tess shimmies the sleeves down her arms in between sloppy, desperate kisses and then tosses the whole thing to the floor with a frustrated humph.
It would be cute if it weren’t so fucking sexy.
I slide my hands up and down the planes of her back, moaning into her mouth at the feeling of bare skin under my palms. She tries to pull her sports bra off, but I squeeze her biceps to stop her.
“Not here,” I say. “I told you I want to do it properly.”
She blinks at me, her eyes hazy.
“Not on the couch,” I explain. “I want you to take me to your bed, ma chère .”
The last couple words slip out before I can stop them. I flinch, wondering if I’ve gone too far, but Tess just blinks at me another couple times before she seems to process what I’m asking.
Then she whips her head around to look at the microwave clock.
“We don’t have much time,” she says, but she doesn’t pull away from me. “Even counting the drive here, we’ve got less than an hour before they’ll be back.”
“We don’t have to,” I tell her. “If you don’t want?—”
“I want.”
She jumps to her feet. My grip on her arms slides down to her hands. I keep one of them clutched in mine as she practically drags me across the living room and into the dark bedroom.
She fumbles with the bedside lamp, and I only just have time to catch a glimpse of a plain white dresser, a pale blue comforter, and some indigo curtains framing the window before she’s pulling me down onto the bed.
I land on top of her, her legs circling my waist and her hands clawing at the back of my t-shirt. It only takes her a few seconds to tug the shirt over my head.
We both moan at the feeling of our chests pressed together when she wraps her arms around my neck, but it’s not enough.
I need more of her.
“I want it all off,” I growl into her ear. “Right fucking now.”
I rise onto my knees, and she straightens up enough for me to get the sports bra off her.
The whole world narrows to just those perfect tits. I try to push her back down so I can start kissing every inch of her, but she braces against me.
“Yours too,” she orders.
I glower at the interruption, but she just smirks at me and crosses her arms over her chest.
“You’re mean,” I tell her, even as I’m reaching for the bottom of my bra.
“Yeah, but I think you like it,” she drawls.
I yank the bra up, and the smirk drops right off her face.
“Fuck,” she hisses.
I toss the bra over my shoulder. My nipples are so hard they hurt. Tess is gawking at them like she’s staring at the gates of heaven. I feel my cheeks heat up even as I keep trying to play it cool.
“Worth the wait?” I ask.
Instead of answering, she sits up so fast I almost topple over the edge of the bed. Her arms lock around my waist to hold me upright, and then her mouth locks onto my nipple.
I swear.
A lot.
“ Calice , you’re good at that,” I groan.
I feel her smile against my skin. “Had to return the favor.”
She works her mouth all over my chest, licking and sucking and kissing until my legs are shaking and the only thing holding me up are her arms still squeezing around my waist.
“I think you still have some clothes on,” I say after threading my fingers through her hair and tugging her head back.
She smirks up at me. “And what exactly do you want to do about that?”
I push on her shoulders, and this time, she lets herself topple down onto the bed. I plant my feet on the floor and lean over her, reaching for the button of her jeans.
“I told you I’d strip you,” I tell her.
I tug the zipper down and then hook my fingers over the waistband to start sliding the jeans down her hips. She wiggles around to help me, and after some awkward maneuvering, I’ve finally got the damn pants in my hands while she lays stretched out in front of me in just a plain pair of grey briefs.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, drinking the sight of her in.
Her arms are bulging with rock hard muscles, but her stomach is beautifully soft, with a few silvery stretch marks to match the ones on the tops of her breasts.
I trace my thumbs along the ridges of her hips, and she gasps, arching into my touch.
“These too?” I say, raising an eyebrow as I snap the waistband of the briefs.
She nods, and I peel them down her hips and then her thighs.
My mouth literally waters.
She has a gorgeous patch of thick, dark curls and what has to be the most incredible pussy I’ve ever seen. I clench my hands into fists around her underwear as I fight the urge to forget all about foreplay and just bury my face between her legs right this second.
“Do you have any idea how good you look?” I ask.
She gives me a confused look, and I realize I spoke in French. My brain is frying just from staring at her.
“I asked if you know how fucking good you look,” I repeat in English.
She tugs her lip between her teeth and grins. “I thought you said something along those lines.”
It’s really not fair for her to bite her lip when I should be the one doing that for her. I finish peeling the underwear down her legs and then lean back over her, lowering myself to her mouth.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she says, pushing on my chest. “You still have some clothes on too.”
I’m done waiting. I can’t play coy and I can’t do patient when Tess is literally spread out naked in front of me, so I take matters into my own hands. I take a step back from the bed to rip the rest of my clothes off in record time.
Tess’s eyes widen, and she stares straight between my legs.
“God dammit,” she mutters. “You’re beautiful.”
Whatever dumb line I was about to say to tease her for staring dies in my throat.
I didn’t expect her to call me that.
Not many people have ever called me that. I’ve gotten cute, hot, sexy, or even handsome from the girls I’ve dated, but beautiful never really came up.
I didn’t even know I liked being called beautiful until just now.
“Was that okay?” Tess asks, worry crossing her face.
I have no idea what my own face is doing. I just know I haven’t ever felt this seen by someone before—which is ridiculous considering she was staring into my pussy, not my soul, but all of a sudden, it feels like I’ve stripped off more than just my clothes.
“Yeah,” I tell her. My throat feels thick, my voice nearly cracking. “It’s okay. It’s just, um, nice to hear that.”
She sits up straight and holds out her hands.
“Come here,” she says, her voice soft.
I let her grab hold of my wrists to pull me down on top of her.
It’s heaven.
Finally, there’s nothing left between us. No clothes, and no excuses. There’s just her skin on my skin, her heart beating right next to mine.
I belong here.
It’s a crazy, stupid, reckless thing to think, but I think it anyway.
I belong here with her like this.
I bracket her head with my arms and hold her gaze. Those green eyes swallow me up, and I let them.
I open my mouth, about to say something I know I’ll regret.
Then the front door bangs open.
“Mom!”
We both freeze as a pair of small footsteps come scrambling into the house way ahead of schedule.
“Are you here, Mom?”
Tess’s face turns whiter than the bed sheets. I look down at her for another second, my own panic reflected in her wide-eyed stare, before I somehow manage to snap myself into action.
I yank the comforter out from under us and throw it over both our bodies just in time.
Shel comes bursting into the room, moth antennae jiggling and sitting a little lopsided on her head.
“Mom! Look at all this candy!”
She skids to a halt, the pillowcase in her hands landing with a thunk on the floor.
“M-mom?”
Her gaze darts between Tess’s face and mine. She blinks rapidly, shaking her head as she takes a step back from the bed.
“W-what are you doing?”
Tess wheezes but can’t seem to find any words to answer her daughter.
Shel starts backing out of the bedroom.
“Shel, wait,” Tess rasps.
We can’t move, though—not without shifting the blanket and making it clear we’re both buck naked.
Shel disappears around the edge of the doorway, and then we hear her start to bolt for the front door.
“Honey, give me a minute,” Tess calls, her voice now shrill and sharp with alarm. “Let’s talk about this.”
Shel’s footsteps don’t slow down. The front door bangs against the wall hard enough to make us both flinch.
Tess pushes me off her and leaps to her feet.
“Shel!” she cries, racing around the bed to get her clothes. “Stop!”
It’s too late, though. There’s nothing but the silent house to answer.
Shel is already gone.