Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Gianna
“Well, you were right,” I say, facing Drake. “I can admit when I’m wrong.”
He makes a face as if he’s not following me. “Right about what?”
“It turns out that I do like getting flowers when I don’t have to ask for them.”
We exchange a gentle, simple smile.
It occurred to me as Paul was putting our flowers into a contraption to cool them, because it’s a process or they’ll break, just how intentional Drake was about the glassblowing date.
Not only was it cheeky and appealing to my artistic side, but it was also a way for him to give me flowers. So many birds, one sweet little stone.
The more that I see of this man, the more I like him. Everything that I thought I knew about him was barely touching the surface. The depths of his kindness, playfulness, and sexiness know no bounds. Being the object of his attention becomes more intoxicating every day.
What on earth would it feel like to be the object of his affection?
He nibbles his bottom lip, a hand in his pocket, and … waits.
“Are you heading home now?” I ask sweetly, testing his resolve.
His eyes twinkle. “Yup.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you for a lovely evening. I had a great time.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” he says curiously. He narrows his eyes, hiding a grin as he searches me for clues about what I’m up to—because he knows I’m up to something. And he’s not wrong.
I told him that if he didn’t quit messing with me in the glass studio, I’d would play dirty.
“Good night, Drake.”
I open my front door, step inside, and shut it behind me.
My heart races as I listen to his shoes against the concrete while walking back to his Mercedes.
I drop my purse on the table by the door and kick off my heels.
Then I rush to the living room without turning on a light so he can’t see me.
I stand in the shadows and wait for him to pull away from the curb.
“Shit,” I say, fumbling around for the light switch. I trip over a step stool I brought in earlier to reach the top of my canvas, fall on the coffee table, knocking half of its contents onto the floor, before landing on the sofa. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I find my way to my feet, manage to turn on the lights, and locate my laptop in the kitchen. Why is it there? I open it with one hand and peel my shirt off with the other. Thankfully, Social is pulled up from a deep dive I did last night on Audrey’s crush’s fiancée’s ex-boyfriend.
The guy has a cute puppy.
I carry the laptop to my room, trying to type with one hand.
Me: Astrid!
It says delivered. “Ugh.” Time is ticking, so I switch to Audrey.
Me: Auddie. Are you there?
Astrid’s message shows read. “Perfect.” I don’t give her time to respond. I sit the computer on the edge of my bed and type quickly.
Me: I need a favor.
Astrid: What’s up?
Me: I need you to call my phone.
Astrid: Where is it?
I giggle mischievously.
Me: It’s in Drake’s car. Call it. Please. Now.
I yank off my jeans and toss them in the dirty clothes basket. My bra joins it.
Audrey: Hi, friend!
Me: Never mind.
Audrey: That’s not nice.
Me: Love you. Will explain later.
Audrey: I don’t even want to know.
I roll my eyes, removing my hair from the elastic. It’s clumpy from the sweat so I run a brush through it and hope my curls from this morning held.
Astrid: I called. Now what?
Me: Call it again.
Astrid: Why?
“Now’s not the time, Astrid,” I grumble.
Me: We’re having a power struggle. I left my phone in his car, so he’ll have to bring it back to me. I’ll happen to look super hot when he gets here, and he won’t be able to help himself. Then I win, and we can stop this ridiculousness, and I can get some cock.
Astrid: GIANNA.
Me: I’d do this for you!
Astrid: I’m calling for the third time. I’m just … how do you come up with this stuff?
I run into the bathroom, grab a wet washcloth, and hit the hot spots. Brush my teeth. Mouthwash. Add a bit of red lipstick for the drama of it later, hopefully, and apply a bit of powder, thanks to all the sweat in the glass place. Then I race back to my bedroom.
Astrid: How many times do I call?
Astrid: I’m on number five.
Astrid: Are we hoping he answers?
Astrid: What if your battery goes dead?
Astrid: What if he’s listening to music and can’t hear it?
My computer beeps with each message, but I don’t have time to answer her.
I sort through my closet, searching for the red silk robe that I’ve had in mind for this since I devised this plan while Drake formed his flower.
Finally, I find it mixed in with my winter coats. Because why wouldn’t it be there?
The material is so soft against my skin, hitting just low enough to barely cover my ass. I cinch the tie around my waist but loosen the top so my cleavage is totally exposed, and my nipples will be, too, if I move the wrong way.
Ding dong!
“I love it when a plan comes together,” I say, applying a few spritzes of my sexiest perfume. Then I shut my computer and toss it into the laundry bin. I’m never going to find that tomorrow.
Ding dong!
“Coming,” I call in my most innocent voice as I hurry to the door. “Just a moment, please.”
My heart races so fast that I’m dizzy. I’ve never had to put this much work into getting a man to want to sleep with me. It’s annoying and frustrating, and if this doesn’t work, I might suffocate him before he can leave. But as much as I hate to admit it, this has been fun.
And it’s about to get spicy.
I take a breath, open the robe just a bit more, then open the door.
“You …” He swallows. Hard. “Left your phone in my car.”
I lean against the door and bat my lashes. “Did I? How silly of me.”
His eyes scrape along my skin as they drop down my neck, over my collarbone, and between my breasts.
“I was just getting ready for bed,” I say innocently. “If you want to hand it over, I’ll—”
“Fuck it.”
Drake
She’s in my arms, my mouth on hers, capturing her gasp of surprise and then the sweet, delicious moan of relief, before either of us can process what’s happening.
We move backward, a wild tangle of hands, lips, and tongues moving, touching, feeling.
“Oh,” she moans as her back smashes into the wall behind us. A painting just above her head slips from the force, swinging perilously from one screw. She giggles through the kisses, leaning her neck to the side to allow me access. “It took you long enough.”
She reaches between us, slipping her hands under the hem of my shirt. Her palms skate over my skin—her nails sinking into me just enough to make me hiss. The scratches tomorrow are absolutely worth having her hands on me.
“Now’s not the time to talk shit,” I say, licking a trail across her collarbone.
I shove the silk off her delicate shoulders, the fabric pooling around her waist. Her tits hang in perfect teardrops—heavy and smooth with dark nipples begging to be sucked. I cup them both in my hands and draw one between my lips.
“That’s the theme of our relationship at this point—ooh!” She moans as her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Oh, my fucking hell, that feels good.”
I fumble with the tie at her hip, finally freeing it with one hand. It falls open, exposing the front of her body. The sight of her, perfection personified, makes my cock so hard it’s difficult to breathe.
Rounded stomach. A deeply curved hip. Thighs that I want around my head as soon as possible.
“Holy fuck.” I lick my lips. For the first time in my life, I’m not sure where to start. She’s like a fucking amusement park, and all the rides are mine for the taking. How’d I get so lucky? “Woman, you’re a fucking dream.”
She drags the hem of my shirt up over my head and tosses it somewhere in the depths of the house. “I need to come,” she says, unfastening my pants. “I’ve waited far too long. How do you plan on accomplishing that?”
“Wait a minute,” I say, chuckling. “You’re not in control here.”
“The hell I’m not.”
My pants fall to the floor. I kick off my shoes, then pull off my pants and socks. My cock is stretched to the ceiling with a bead of precum on the tip, aching to be sucked.
“I thought you liked giving oral,” I say, stroking myself. “Get on your knees for me.”
Her grin is absolutely wicked as she kneels at my feet. She licks her lips, a pool of red silk around her—and I nearly come undone.
“I’m only doing what you asked because I want to,” she says, wrapping her hand around the base of my cock. “Just to be clear.”
I plant my hands on the wall behind her. “You are welcome to justify it however you want. Just put my cock in your mouth.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, rubbing the head over her lips. “Is this what you imagine in the shower?” Her tongue slips around the tip in a slow, leisurely circle like she has all night. “Did you imagine fucking my mouth?”
“Dammit, Gianna,” I growl.
She giggles before sucking me between her lips. I groan as the sensations—hot, tight, wet—hit me at once. Her tongue swirls over the head, collecting the precum like it’s her last fucking meal. She’s needy, loving this as much as I am … and that’s so fucking hot.
“I can’t wait,” she begins, planting kisses down my cock, “to feel you spilling down my throat.” She licks her way back to the top, flicking her tongue against the head. “That makes me so horny.”
“You’re killing me here,” I say, the ache so intense in my balls that I wince. “I—fuck!”
She sucks me into her mouth as far as she can, her free hand gripping my ass. I tremble, my body shaking as she pulls me in and out of her mouth with the perfect amount of pressure. The sounds she makes—sucking, slurping, moaning—have my breath coming out in shudders.
“Take me deeper.” I hold each side of her head and guide it up and down. “Just like that.”
Her spit rolls down me, over her fist, and drips onto my legs. Together, we find a rhythm that might be the most divine feeling I’ve ever experienced. My teeth clench as I move my hips, unable to stay still.
Faster. Harder. Deeper. My head gets light as an orgasm builds, and I know what I have to do—but fuck if I want to do it.
“Stop,” I say, pulling away from her.
She rocks back, her eyes watery, as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lips are swollen, and her cheeks are pink.
She’s breathtaking.
I help her stand but instantly crave connection with her again. It’s never going to be enough. I’ve opened Pandora’s box.
My hands on her ass, I scoop her up and pin her to the wall. Her legs wrap around my waist as she captures my lips with hers. I reach between us and start to enter her but then remember that I need a condom.
“Fuck,” I say, nipping her bottom lip.
Her eyes go wide as she searches mine. “What? What the fuck is the matter now?”
“I need a condom.”
“Do you, though?” She grinds her soaked pussy against me. “I’m on birth control. Got a checkup last month and I’m a healthy girl.”
“I got mine three weeks ago. I’m good, too.”
Her back arches, shoving against the wall, as she begs for contact. “Fuck me then. Raw. I want to feel you inside me.”
The mouth of a fucking goddess. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
She giggles, but the sound turns into the loudest moan I’ve ever heard as I part her flesh with my cock. She’s so wet, the fluids coating her thighs in a slippery, sticky mess. The heat of her body covers mine as I press the tip against her opening.
I take a breath and shove all the way inside her.
“Fuck!” she yells, the sound of her voice echoing through the house. “Drake!”