Chapter Fourteen
SHAY
“YOU CAN TASTE me.”
He waits for me to say every last word before the wet heat of his tongue streaks up my skin.
His stubble rasps and scrapes against my inner thigh, and the sensation is electric and sharp.
I let out a small sound.
I know I shouldn’t—know I can’t.
We’re not in the privacy of my room anymore. Someone could walk in. A guest. A hostess. Anyone.
His warm hands clench the back of my legs tighter, and another sound tears out of me.
Heat ignites under my skin everywhere he touches. Nerves spark at every point of contact.
He’s not in a hurry.
That’s the most dangerous part because we should be tearing through this, fast, reckless.
His fingers trail up the backs of my legs, then he pauses and looks up at me. His gaze is molten.
And those eyes.
They scorch.
Hungry, dangerous, impossible to look away from.
They smirk before his mouth does.
If he’s waiting for my objection, it’s not coming.
And he takes my silence as the invitation it is.
With his hands gripping my calves like iron, he jerks my ass to the edge of the counter.
It’s all so quick.
The yank. The slide. My heart lurching at the thought of slipping right off.
But I know he’d never let me fall.
My fingers tangle on the edge of the counter, trying to find my composure.
Like that’s going to happen.
The cool granite bites into my bare skin. I didn’t wear panties, and my shorts are a joke—thin, loose, nothing to hide anything. And I’m already soaking wet and throbbing with need.
We’re going to have to sanitize this counter.
The thought hits me sharp.
Shit, I shouldn’t be on this counter.
That’s the logical part of my brain. The respectable part. The part I’ve always listened to without fail.
But I can barely hear it.
I’m slipping away piece by piece, and I don’t want to resist or analyze it.
His lips trail up my thighs, and my lungs forget how to work.
Higher.
Wetter.
Hotter.
Pure, exquisite torture. My anticipation turns into a pulse I can’t control.
He kisses the tender place where my thigh meets my hip.
My whole body pulls tight. Excitement rushes.
He nuzzles closer. His nose brushes the edge of my heat, and that pleasure coils so violently inside me I almost cry out.
But I can’t.
I know that.
But fuck, I want to.
His tongue flicks out, tasting the skin just beside the place I ache for him most. The tease makes my hips lift off the counter, uncontrollable.
He chuckles.
The audacity.
But I’m too lost in my feelings to respond.
“You taste delicious.”
“You,” I pant. “Haven’t.” My breath catches. “Even... tasted me yet.” I rush out the last three words.
“Baby, I’m savoring the appetizer.”
Heat spreads through me fast, a wildfire I can’t tame.
His hands slide under the backs of my knees, and he coaxes them wider as he drags his mouth higher.
Kiss by devastating kiss.
I’m trembling. Shaking.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” It’s a whisper.
“That’s the idea.” How is his voice this sinful?
His fingers hook the seam of my shorts and drag them aside. The cool air hits my bare pussy, and my thighs twitch.
He hesitates just long enough to make my head spin, dizzy with need.
Then his thumbs spread me open, and I watch him stare at me, eyes drinking me in, dark and hungry.
“You’re beautiful.” His husky tone slides straight into my core.
I bite my lip, battling to hide a moan I’m already losing.
“I could stare all night.”
I want to slap him and melt at the same time.
He leans in, and his tongue traces the outline so delicately. So soft.
“Cash—” the word is breathy.
A plea.
A warning.
His groan is raw, and then in a heartbeat, his mouth is on me.
This time, I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper, tasting him.
He teases with open-mouthed kisses that make my back arch and my hips press forward.
He lingers, lips brushing, tongue flicking lightly, dragging every nerve in me awake. And each kiss, each lick, makes me more desperate, more needy.
His fingers spread me wider, and I realize this is only the beginning. His tongue follows, relentless, lavishing, claiming every inch.
My core clenches with every stroke, and I can’t help but push back against him.
The whimpers escape me, barely audible over the fire licking low in my belly.
As if he thinks I’m not close enough, his arms slide inside my shorts. His hands grip my bare ass with possessiveness, pulling me closer, grinding my pussy against his face.
I gasp.
The sound he makes—low, hungry, animalistic—vibrates through me. Then his tongue is everywhere. Licking, sucking, and devouring.
My hips thrust instinctively, and I am desperate for more, and he grinds me harder, claiming me fully, driving me wild.
I cry out, my fingers flying to his hair, gripping tight. “Yes. Right there—”
“You gotta be quiet, baby,” he growls, and my flesh muffles the word. “Unless you want someone to hear how good I’m making you feel.”
The threat of being caught sets my nerves on fire, sending another wave of heat through me.
He licks me like he’s starving. Like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted, and I know he’s tasted a lot of delicious foods.
Heat pools low, trembling through me in waves I can’t control. Every flick of his tongue. Every press of his mouth.
My thighs clamp around his head, hips moving on their own, grinding involuntarily. I squeeze his hair tighter, trying to keep him close.
He doesn’t pause.
Each lick, each slide, each flick drags me higher. Closer.
My back arches, my legs shake, and my whole body is on fire.
I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
I just feel—overwhelmed, trembling, and undone. Burning in every nerve.
He’s consuming me, and I never want it to stop.
His tongue spears into my hole before dragging up to flick my clit, over and over, until my vision blurs.
I bite down on my arm to stifle the scream building in my throat. My orgasm crashes over me.
It’s too much.
The pleasure.
The risk.
The way his mouth owns every inch of me.
My back bows and my thighs shake as I ride his face. I pulse against his lips, and he doesn’t let up. He doesn’t give me a second to breathe. His tongue flicks my clit, and his lips seal around it, sucking hard.
I shatter.
“Oh Cash—” The words tear out of me, broken.
My fingers grip his hair tight as wave after wave of pleasure rip through me, shaking me apart.
He groans against me, and the sound vibrates through my core. I can feel his smile against my skin like he’s proud of what he’s doing to me.
He should be.
I’m still trembling, my body humming, when he finally pulls back.
His lips glisten, and his beard is damp. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes track me, dark and heavy with satisfaction.
“Hi.” My voice is raw.
He smirks. “Hi.”
He stands, pressing his body between my legs. The hard ridge of his cock grinds against me, and the denim of his jeans is rough against my sensitive skin.
“Well, hello.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
“Hello.” He chuckles as he lowers his mouth to mine.
His lips just graze mine when we hear a sound.
Laughter.
I can’t tell from where. Upstairs? Just on the other side of the door? Which door?
Either way, it’s getting louder.
Another voice joins in.
Closer.
We don’t move at first.
But in a flash, the kitchen feels too open, too bright, and too exposed.
Ordinary people would slide off the counter and face whoever is on the other side of that door.
Apparently, we’re not ordinary people.
In a silent agreement, we scatter. He lifts me off the counter. I grab the bowl of whipped cream, and he snatches the strawberries.
I grab the pocket door, and his hand covers mine.
The laughter is close.
Female voices.
Maybe three.
Right outside this door.
“We can come up with a good excuse.” I straighten my shorts and curse myself for not wearing a bra. “We bumped into each other. What a coincidence. Or better yet, you were here making a snack, and I found you.”
I turn to him, and he grabs my arm and pulls me through a door.
I don’t even have a second to guess where we’re going until my heels skid on descending stairs.
Cash’s body blocks my fall, his chest catching me. His boots thud as he backpedals, shuffling down a step or two, and perching me on the top step.
He pulls the door shut, and we’re swallowed in darkness, on stairs, to a basement, I assume.
Everything sharpens at once.
His hand is on my hip. Fingers spread. His body angled into mine, holding me to the door. He’s not crushing me, but he’s close enough that I register every detail I shouldn’t have time for.
Heat.
Breath.
The rise and fall of his chest.
His feet planted on different steps keeping us balanced. Ready.
The smell hits next, and it’s wrong.
Not damp. Not mold or dust or that sour, old-house basement rot I’m braced for. Instead, there’s something floral and faint. Lavender, maybe. Or roses.
It throws me off more than the dark.
This is a Victorian home. It should smell like stone and spiders and cold pipes.
“Cash?”
His fingers press against my mouth. “Shhh.”
Warm. Firm. Delicious.
Don’t lick them.
Do not lick them.
I hold my breath.
“I mean, he’s lovely.” I recognize Zoe’s voice.
Or is it Zara’s? I can’t tell them apart.
“But you can tell he keeps part of himself locked away.”
Jaclyn’s voice hums in agreement. “After what happened, can you blame him?”
My stomach tightens.
What happened?
Everything inside me wants to know, but not like this. Not from them.
“I still can’t wrap my head around it.”
A drawer slides open and metal clinks. Something heavy gets set on the counter as a third voice enters.
“Like she actually did all that.” This is Zara—I think.
Who are they talking about?
Did what?
When?
To Cash?
My last question is answered as his body grows rigid against me.
Every muscle goes stone.
“Who does that?” Zoe asks. “Who thinks that’s okay behavior?”
A cupboard door creaks and glass rattles softly.
“She kept everything. Notes, screenshots, timestamps. Like a file.” Zara pauses as water starts running and then stops. “I heard it went on for months.”
“Years.”
Years?
“I suppose that’s why they call them stalkers.”
Now I go rigid.
Our first encounter hits hard: Me in his room. Him just happening to step out of the shower naked. The flash of emotions he’d tried to hide.
Jaclyn gives a humourless laugh. “Online at first. Then not online. And it wasn’t harmless.”
Their tone isn’t cruel. It’s not even gossiping, really. There is true concern within them.
“No wonder he’s cautious.” Jaclyn’s voice is right on the other side of the door. “Imagine never knowing if someone likes you or the version of you they’ve built in their head.”
I swallow, noticing how perfectly still Cash is.
The sound of chairs scraping echoes overhead. They’re settling in. Staying.
His hand shifts away from mine. It’s a small movement, but I notice. Retreating. Guard going up.
I lace my fingers through his and tug him down the stairs.
He doesn’t resist.
The stairs creak under us, and I hope the women don’t hear or investigate.
The air down here is cooler.
I reach out blindly and find a switch.
The lights flick on.
And—
I stop short and stare at what I would have never expected the older ladies to be hiding in their basement.
And judging by the way Cash goes completely still beside me, neither did he.