30. Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Cedric
“ D elilah?” I ask again as he shakes her head at her reflection.
“We should go,” she says abruptly. What has gotten into her, I do not have the slightest of clues. I say her name again when she turns, but she heads straight back into her cubicle.
I don’t think so.
I glance around us, making sure no one is looking–though the shop is fairly empty as far as I can tell–and follow her toward the fitting room, the curtain’s fabric bunched in my hand.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
I should probably not be in this confined space with her right now, but I need to know if I’ve done something to piss her off.
She grumbles, such an odd sound coming from her, even though it sounds somewhat affirmative. I push the curtain aside to half step in, given how tiny it is.
“What is it?” I whisper, bracing my other hand against the paper-thin wall of the cabin.
Her back is to the wall, hands tucked behind her. She huffs out a frustrated breath and says, “I shouldn’t tell you.”
“That’s too bad, because you are telling me.”
“I just had a thought. Several thoughts.”
I squint at her, wondering what her mind might have conjured that was so awful in the minute that we weren’t occupying the same space.
“What about?”
She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, avoiding my gaze.
“Should I give you some–”
“About you . About your hands and your mouth, and every single thing you’ve said to me since we’ve met,” she says, somewhere between angry and emotional. “About how I am a terrible person, because I want to lock you somewhere and never let you go, and god–I’m making a scene in a changing room! And you’ve been so considerate about not rushing this and I’m ruin–”
“Delilah,” I say, firmly, and her mouth snaps shut, eyes jumping back to mine. “Do you want me to do something about it?”
Something flickers in her gaze, then, that reminds me peculiarly of the day we first kissed, when we were still in my hotel room and I was about to change clothes. It was unbearably hot then, and it is tenfold now.
“Like what?” she whispers .
Against my better judgment, against what I told her, against what happened the last time and against every working cell in my brain telling me this is not going to end the way I wish it could, I wrap one arm against her waist and lean down to press our lips together.
She stiffens for a fraction of a section, a barely-there hesitation, before she digs her nails into my nape, holding onto me for dear life.
It’s messy and a little wild, like the hold this woman has on me, but I can’t bring myself to care as we settle entirely inside the fitting room. There’s no space for us to move much, so I instinctively pick her up, feeling her thighs beneath the flowy dress I am absolutely going to buy for her since I’m about to ruin it beyond repair.
“Cedric,” she breathes on my lips, arms latching onto my back. “We can’t–not here,” she says, though her mouth betrays her words by crashing back onto mine.
“We can,” I whisper in the shell of her ear, even if it means breaking the kiss. “If you can be quiet. Can you be quiet?”
I pull back to look her in the eyes, to see whether there are traces of regret swirling there, but I can’t find any; they’re blazing, hyper-focused on me, and I have never felt luckier in my life. When she nods her head a few times, I kiss her again, slowly now.
“That’s a good girl,” I say, tucking a strand of wavy hair behind the blushing tip of her ear. “The best.”
The praise seems to make her relax more against me, which is good. Great, in fact–I wouldn’t want to give her anything less than what she deserves, though I wish it could have happened somewhere more romantic. But after this, there will be time for that. I will make time for that, come hell or high water. And I’ll do a lot more than buy her pretty clothes .
And then, when I think she could not be more perfect if she’d tried, she moves one hand to bunch the fabric of the dress, up, up, exposing her thighs to me for the second time today, making me wonder what good I have done to ever deserve this.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I say ruggedly.
Though I enjoy immensely–we both do, I should say–holding her up against the paper-thin wall, I’m afraid it’s impractical. I gently put her down, and she steps to my left, the dress she donned this morning falling from the hanger nailed to the wall in a heap of silky fabric.
“Is this–” I start asking when Delilah catches the lapels of my jacket to bring me back close to her, which promptly shuts me up.
“It’s perfect,” she breathes,palms tracing my chest over my shirt.
She looks up at me, tongue darting out to lick her lips, and I truly cannot wait any longer. I press her to the wall, giving myself permission to be rougher since she is now stable, and lap at her neck as my hands travel to her back, easing down the zipper I helped her fix a few minutes ago. She takes her arms out of the frilly sleeves, and I pinch the clasp of her bra between thumb and forefinger, the shoulder straps flopping down as she takes it all the way off.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I cup her with one hand. “You wonderful creature.”
She bites down on her bottom lip to repress a moan, which sets my insides on fire, my crotch straining against my pants. I kiss her deeply, then touch down her navel, then lower, until I put a hand down her dress, my fingers meeting her panties.
“How does it feel?” I whisper in her ear, her trembling breath all the answer I need .
“It’s–Cedric,” she says quietly. “More. Please .”
I lean back to look her in the eyes, my free hand cradling her jaw.
“You never have to beg,” I tell her, and a small gasp leaves her mouth. All I can do is swallow it as I stroke my lips against hers.
Delilah
Cedric’s thumb presses gently on my most sensitive spot, the barrier of my briefs seeming impossibly thick. I buck against his hand once, involuntarily, desperate for more friction. I can’t believe this is happening, here, but my mind is too fuzzy to worry or care much.
He circles me, putting more pressure as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down the slope of my neck and shoulder.
“You know what I think, Delilah?”
“What?” I whisper as he keeps up a maddening rhythm, trying not to squirm, biting my tongue so I don’t yell at him to just push the panties out of the damn way.
“I think,” he says, voice low and eyes blacker than ever, “that you like this more than you’d care to admit.”
“Are you asking if I like what you’re doing? Because I have no problem admitting that,” I say on a quiet laugh, the pleasure building slowly but steadily in my core.
Cedric makes a low sound in his throat as he nuzzles at my breast, and it feels too wondrous to be real.
“I think you like the danger,” he continues before closing his lips around my nipple, my eyes fluttering shut at the sensation .
I’m getting wound up too soon, too fast, and I’m suddenly reminded how important it is to keep my emotions in check. I breathe deeply, calming myself, though it’s pretty flipping hard when his fingers are massaging my clit and sweat is collecting down my neck.
“I think the thought of being discovered is doing wonders for you.”
I hadn’t really thought about it that way, but honestly? Yes. I would have let him do this to me anywhere. I was going to let him at home, not that long ago, but now that we’re here, I can’t explain the thrill that slinks up my spine at how forbidden this is. At how quickly, surely, I’ve changed in such a short time–or maybe at how this part of me was always waiting to be set free.
“Cedric,” I say again, at a loss for anything more articulated.
“I’ve got you,” he says, and his thumb starts pressing harder into me until he finally, finally slips the finger in my briefs. He makes a guttural sound that reverberates against my neck and threatens to push me over the edge.
“You’re a pipe dream,” he says.
“I’m right here,” I manage to breathe.
“Yeah,” he says, more to himself than to me. He starts circling me harder as he catches my lips in another fiery kiss, my insides turning to molten lava. “Come on.”
I bite hard into my lip as the pleasure builds, racing toward the peak.
“Come on sweetheart,” he says with an encouraging smile. The combination of his capable finger, his husky voice and what he just called me makes stars burst in my vision, my core pulsing as release hits me. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on breathing deeply, on staying calm, but the touch of Cedric’s fingertips against my cheek and the rough edge to his voice telling me to look at him annihilate every thought.
“Look at me when you come apart.”
I do, and it feels like swallowing fireworks. His eyes bear into mine like chips of onyx, and in this moment, my mind is nothing but him, everywhere. He presses a chaste kiss to my lips as the high slowly ebbs, and when my knees nearly buckle, he takes his hand out of my panties and places his hands firmly around me for support.
“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes trailing between my own and my lips.
A surprised laugh escapes me as I nod.
“Are you? Alright?” I ask, fixing my bra and dress back in place when he picks them up for me.
He nods, swallows. “What do you think?” he asks, all low voice and glossy eyes.
I smile, spent and ridiculously happy.
“Let me make sure we don’t get arrested,” I add, unable to keep a grin off my face. I peek out the curtain on still-wobbly legs, Cedric’s hand on the small of my back.
“The coast is clear,” I confirm.
“Did you just pretend to have a walkie-talkie?”
“Maybe…?”
His eyes glimmer with delight. “You are something else,” he says as he produces a handkerchief from his pocket to clean his fingers up. I release a small breath at the gesture, and he gives me a knowing look. “Let’s go.”
“I have to change,” I whisper. “I can’t very well pay for the dress while I’m wearing it.”
Cedric leans in, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. I fear he’s going to say something that’s going to make me forget about decency altogether–though one could argue that was thrown out the window the second we both stepped into the fitting room–but what he says is, “You’re not paying for the dress.”
“Just because I had an orgasm while wearing it, it doesn’t mean it’s free!”
Cedric looks at me with a raised brow. “That’s not what I meant. Though please, feel free to keep talking about the orgasm I gave you.”
I lightly pat him on the chest as he adds, “I’m buying it.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he stops me with a kiss. “It’s not up for debate,” he says, slipping out of the fitting room. I grumble, but don’t argue further. I figure I wouldn’t win anyway.
When I have made myself presentable and collected my things I head to the register, and my mouth opens at the sight of the huge bag of clothes at Cedric’s feet.
“Your friend has excellent taste,” Diana says with a pleased little smile.
“I do,” he says, eyes on me as he gestures for me to hand him the dress.
Once we’re out of the shop, I thank him profusely, tell him how unnecessary all this was. Though truth be told? I can’t deny it feels good to be spoiled a little for once.
Cedric gives me an oddly specific look that, for some reason, I know translates exactly to 'You don’t have to thank me for anything'. I wrap my hands around his arm as he carries the bag with the other. I look up at him as we walk, taking in the sharp contours of his profile, the gaze that only softens when it lands on me. He looks like a painting, like a knight with no armor. My breath catches when he chuckles at something trivial I say, and I marvel at the sound of it, cherishing how every ray of sun hits his skin .
For a second, I picture his face on the day we’re going to say goodbye. The thought is so unbearable, I have to squeeze his arm, keeping him close.
“All good?” he asks as we near home.
“Yeah,” I say.
For now.