Willa #2
Grabbing my phone, I pull up my contacts, searching for the Slice.
Hickory Hills has exactly three dining establishments.
Dolly's, which is only open for breakfast and lunch, the Kountry Kitchen, which I only recommend if you need to clear your system prior to a colonoscopy, and Little Slice of Heaven, our pizza joint.
Wait, four, if you count Oh! My Lard, the little bakery/café, which is also open limited hours and is designed to serve more snack-ish items, as well as cakes and pastries, than actual meals.
So, pizza it is.
“Got a little dirt on my boobs…”
“Not how the song goes,” I call out after him, my finger hovering over the dial button. “And shhhh!”
“Don’t shhh me!” he returns, spinning around. His eyes meet mine, the deep-brown irises that I can’t help but get lost in locking with my baby blues, butterflies taking flight. He waggles his eyebrows playfully, narrowing his gaze. “I got a little dirt on my boobs!”
His voice is louder this time and even more out of tune.
Dustin might be the country star, but when it comes to karaoke, he’s not the most notorious of our friend group.
Nope. That would be the man-child currently crooning incorrect lyrics in my kitchen.
Unable to carry a tune if you gave him a bucket, he more often sounds like Scuttle from The Little Mermaid than anything else.
“Boots. The lyric is boots.”
“Not if I’m singing it.”
“I’m sure whichever one of Dustin’s buddies that actually sings that song would not appreciate you rewriting it.” I glare at him, pushing up from the couch. I walk toward him, phone still in hand, holding it up so he can see that I’m getting ready to dial. “And shh, so I can order this.”
I hit the button, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Got a little—”
“Shut up! Someone is going to hear you!”
“Is that really all you care about? That someone is going to hear my voice in the background of your call?”
Something shifts in the air, a palpable transformation that makes the hair on my arms stand up. Those once deep-brown eyes have gone darker, almost black, his voice an octave lower than usual. My whole body is standing at attention, ready to react, ignoring the ringing phone I’m holding.
“You really think I’d jeopardize this?” He stalks closer to me, never taking his eyes off me.
I gulp, my heart pounding. Taking the phone from me, he taps the end call button and tosses it off to the side with a single flick of his wrist. It lands with a soft thud somewhere I’m sure I can’t reach it. “Then you don’t know me at all.”
“I know you,” I challenge.
“Not as well as I know you, Princess.”
Snap!
An audible crack goes off inside my head, ire rising in me. I step forward just enough to give him a shove. “I can't stand when you call me that.”
“I know.”
“Just like I can’t stand you.”
“Not true.”
I huff out a long exhale through my nostrils, like I’m a fire-breathing dragon. If I were a cartoon, matching steam would be pouring out of my ears, a whistle sounding in the background. But I’m not a cartoon, so my words are going to have to do.
I start to respond, heaving in a large breath, ready for battle. But I’m cut off.
By his lips.
And the world stops.
His hand finds the back of my neck, holding me still as he deepens his already strong and punishing kiss.
I whimper, unable to do anything else as my mind goes blank.
Few things in this world are as potent as his kisses, a fact that he’s proven time and time again.
Yet, each time, my body responds as if it’s the first time all over again—this new, all-consuming feeling radiating through me.
Pulling away just as quickly as he initiated things, he gives me a minute to catch my breath, hand still secure at my nape.
“Think it might be time to remind you just how much you like me.”
The impish glint in his eye tells me everything I need to know. He’s in charge, and I better hold on, because it’s going to be a wild ride.
My insides light up like the sky on New Year’s Eve, each beat of my pulse a new firework exploding. And all he’s done is kiss me.
I don’t plan on giving in this easy though. Don’t get me wrong. I want him. And I have every intention of getting exactly what I want. I also have every intention of making him work for it.
“You think it’s that simple, huh?” I quip, finding my voice. “Think you can just kiss me and I’ll bend to your will?”
He scoff laughs, yanking me closer to him. I can feel the bulge in his jeans pressed against my stomach, the knowledge that he wants me just as badly as I want him stoking the fire in me.
“First off, I plan to do a whole lot more than just kiss you,” he tells me, licking his lips. One hand moves to my ass, smacking it, as he grins at me. “And second, that’s exactly how this works.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.” He winks, tightening his grip on me, the wetness pooling between my legs growing with each second. “Ten years, Princess. I know exactly what you like. Fight me all you want; that’s half the fun.”
I snarl, hating how right he is. My disdain and festering hurt are what fuel this whole thing. What make it so good. What keep me coming back for more, even when I shouldn’t.
“Now, are you going to be a good girl and do what I say? Or are you going to be naughty and have to be punished?”
A chill rips through me, my skin heating up simultaneously, the contradiction so overwhelming I can barely process it. He doesn’t give me a chance to answer though, smacking my ass again before snaking an arm around my waist and hauling me in for another kiss.
I cave, kissing him back with everything I have. What little resolve I had is gone, melted away by the raging inferno that has taken over. His tongue finds mine, and I moan, savoring the taste of him. A taste that I know will linger long after he leaves, making me crave more.
He runs his fingers through my hair, and we continue to kiss like we need each other to breathe.
Like the only thing keeping us alive is this connection.
We’re a mess of hands and limbs, each one trying to hold on tighter, harder, afraid of breaking the spell.
That is until he wraps my hair around his fist and tugs.
“Ohhhhhh,” I moan, not bothering to keep quiet as his lips meet my neck.
The roughness of his stubble combined with the softness of his lips against my exposed throat make my knees wobble—something that is not lost on him. He chuckles, nipping at the soft skin, making me moan all over again.
“That’s my girl.”
Letting go of my hair, he steps back, cool air rushing in between us.
I miss him instantly, but it only lasts a second.
Only long enough for him to grab my hips, lifting me into the air, his stunningly beautiful biceps flexing.
I feel as light as a feather in his arms, moving through the air as gently and gracefully as a bird.
He deposits me on the kitchen island, the coolness of the granite seeping through the thin fabric of my leggings.
I grab at his head, pulling him toward me, wanting to get lost in him all over again.
He obliges, kissing me softly at first, then harder, switching it up as he goes, hands starting to explore my body.
I can feel his fingers toying with the hem of my tee, lightly grazing the exposed skin, making it tingle.
That paired with his kiss is enough to make the world fade away.
But I know he’s not done.
Not by a long shot.
The fingers that were simply toying a split second ago are now on a mission. Slipping up under my shirt, they head north, taking my tee with them. My heart races at the achingly slow pace, knowing that he’s taking his time just to tease me. Just to get me amped up.
I’m plenty amped.
Coolness greets me as he whips my shirt over my head, my nipples pebbling behind my lilac lace bra. I suck in a breath, watching his eyes roam over me like I’m the prize pig at the county fair. No, that’s not right. Livestock isn’t his thing. He’s not that kind of country boy.
A camellia.
He’s looking at me like I’m the prizewinning camellia at the flower show. And frankly, he would know. His family has won that prize more times than I can count.
“You look good enough to eat,” he groans, working my leggings over my hips. I wiggle, lifting up just enough to help, enjoying the feel of him inching them down my legs. “Don’t mind if I do.”
In a flash, my bra is off, joining the rest of my clothes on the floor.
A rough, calloused hand glides over my already taut nipple, and I lose it.
I cry out, arching my back, silently begging for more.
That one little touch was all I needed to make me desperate, everything inside me calling out for him.
My unspoken pleas are answered as his mouth finds its way to my breast, laving the stiff peak as I scream his name. His free hand finds the other, making sure equal attention is paid. And I’m in heaven.
Complete and total heaven.
I let go, allowing myself to get lost in the moment.
In the pleasure coursing through me. In the heat that is rushing through me, cooled only by the countertop underneath me.
In the feel of his tongue twirling around my nipple, his fingers rolling the other.
Lightning shoots straight to my core, my matching lace panties no doubt soaked already.
He lets me go with a pop, blowing on my wet skin before switching sides. I lean back, my legs spreading, allowing for him to step in between them. An invitation he doesn’t miss, as he wraps his arms around my torso, tugging me upward, his hips grinding into me.
“Fuck!” I gasp, right as his bulge hits my sex.
“You like this?”
I nod, unable to form an answer. He knows I do. So he does it again. And again. Until I can’t take it anymore. I moan his name, hands gripping his hair. All that earns me is a harder thrust and the inability to catch my breath.