Chapter 15
Cece
You never got around to telling me what you want…
Davis places a bottle of Roots gin on my desk along with two glasses, and I give a shaky laugh.
“Right. Right. Yeah. I found what you want, though.” I hold up the small bottle of Captain Morgan’s rum with a flourish.
A smile ghosts across his mouth. “I knew you would.”
The flowers, sitting proudly in the kitchen, flash across my vision.
I almost dropped them when the delivery guy handed them to me.
I expected him to say they were for Ada, but instead, my name was announced.
Those flowers are a beautiful, romantic gesture, the kind I always dreamed about receiving from the layabouts I’ve had come in and out of my life.
But, they’re from Will Sharpe. Gorgeous, successful, business-owning Will.
The boy whose name I doodled in my schoolbooks for years.
The man whom I have every intention of seducing at the reunion.
So why, with adrenaline from the fight with Jenny still buzzing through my system, am I more excited about the fact that Davis is sitting on the other side of my desk?
He pours me a gin, and I accept the glass, carefully avoiding his massive fingers. I take a swallow as he fixes his own drink and sips it. “So, is Ada okay?”
Why are you thinking about Ada right now?
It’s sweet that you’re worried about her…
The dual thoughts race through my mind. Fuck me, I need to pull myself together. I take another sip of gin. “No, but at least she’s here and not somewhere else.”
“Are you okay?”
“Um, I mean, I feel kind of high. But I don’t know if that means I’m okay?”
“So, what do you want?”
My laugh cracks brokenly through the air, surprising me.
He keeps some version of that same simple question, but there’s no simple answer.
I meet Davis’s steely gaze, and butterflies whirl through my stomach until the truth comes tumbling out.
“I… I don’t know. I think I need someone else to tell me… ”
I’m instantly so embarrassed that I scrunch my eyes as if darkness might delete the words.
Davis’s chair creaks, his footfalls heavy on the ugly carpet. “Cece?”
His voice is so close that the butterflies flapping inside me become a cyclone, whipping up every nerve in my body.
I open my eyes, and he’s right in front of me.
It’s rare for a man to stand over me, and rarer still that I’d let one, so I take it in slowly.
My breathing goes shallow, an echo of panic in every rasp.
I try to bring it under control, but the heat radiating from his body is so distracting I realise I’m barely breathing at all.
Davis’s chest is something else. I’m wearing the same shirt, but it looks completely different on him.
Better. The black cotton strains across his pecs; the loops and swirls of the lavender Afterglow logo look smooth.
Silky. I want to run my finger along the stitching, feel the way the threads lie over his muscles. I raise my finger and trace the ‘f’.
Davis swallows, drawing my attention to his neck. He’s tan under the tats. Clean-shaven. My adrenaline surges again, and I’m consumed by a desire to lick those inked roses, feel his pulse leap against my tongue.
“Cece.” His voice pours through me like hot honey, warming every inch. He cups my jaw, tipping up my face so our gaze meets. The light from overhead reflects in his hazel eyes, the golden orb around his pupil is like looking through a dark tunnel and seeing daylight on the other side.
I could get lost in them. It would be so easy.
“What do you need?”
Oh God.
I shake my head, my brain dishevelled.
“Tell me.”
“I did,” I whisper. “I need someone else to tell me.”
“Maybe you need someone to show you.”
He guides me to my feet, and then he’s kissing me.
It’s not a smashing of mouths, it’s soft and slow and sweet.
I bloom under his touch like a daisy in the sun and open my mouth to his.
Davis groans, his tongue sweeping across mine, sparking my blood.
Even at six feet, he’s dwarfing me, and the rarity of it is thrilling.
He lifts me, big hands grabbing my ass and squeezing.
We move together, only the feel of the wall at my back stopping our momentum.
Jesus Christ. I’ve always been jealous of tiny girls who got picked up by their partners. Nobody ever tried with me, and now it’s happening. I didn’t even have to ask. Excitement and fear skate through me in tandem.
It’s happening.
I’m kissing Davis.
Davis is kissing me.
You’re his boss.
It doesn’t matter.
It matters.
It’s just one time.
Fuck it. I wrap my legs around his hips and draw him close.
If this is just going to be the one time, I’m going to make it count.
“You want this, Cece.” Davis groans against my mouth. The gravel in his voice is so sexy I buck my hips against him, the seam of my denim shorts finding the thick bulge between his legs.
“Shhhhh,” I babble, because the way he’s grinding me into the wall is finally silencing my racing thoughts.
All my awareness is in my pussy now, the sharp twist of pleasure as my clit rides the seam between us, the horny ache deep in my abdomen begging to be filled. He knows it, the sneaky mindreader, because he finds that spot, that perfect, perfect, spot, and… slows down.
“What the fuck?”
“Shhhh.” Davis feeds my own command back to me, his lips twisting into a smile against my mouth, and I bite his lower lip until he gasps.
He doesn’t speed up, though. Just keeps riding that seam with slow purpose.
The pressure builds, spreading through me like wildfire, down my legs, up to my nipples, reaching my fingers, which I twist in his soft hair.
“You like that, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, but licks a line along my neck, and I shudder. “Relax. I’ll take care of you.”
Relief floods me at his order, fighting with my urge to stay in control, and the need for release pounding through my pussy. I clasp his hair, pulling him tighter to me.
“Make me come, Davis. Please.”
“I will. I promise.”
The number of men who’ve promised to make me come and failed could fill a rugby team, but there’s something behind Davis’s tone that tells me he’s not one of them. It’s not a cocky promise, made in the heat of the moment and masculine pride. It’s something more. Deeper. A vow.
The only thing that could stop me from orgasming up against my office wall right now is me.
I let myself do as I’ve been told, relaxing into the wall, and Davis chuckles into my neck. “There she is.”
His hips haven’t stopped moving, drawing his erection back and forth across the crotch of my shorts, down to where I’m aching and empty.
There’s enough heat between my legs to start a forest fire, and then he boosts me higher, one arm wrapping firmly under my spread hips and the other one sliding up my ribs.
“I’m gonna touch you now,” he pants.
“I don’t need commentary, Davis. Just do it.”
He laughs, looking at me, his face bright and so, so beautiful. “I like it when you’re mean, gorgeous. Let me see the real you.”
I snap my teeth at him, and he grins, then his hand is sliding up under my top, inside my bra, and I forget to be bitchy. “Oh my God!”
“You religious?” Davis pinches my nipple, sensation skating through me, and I shake my head, back bowing to offer my breasts more freely.
“You don’t get to say God’s name when it’s me making you feel this way, Cece. Let me hear it.”
“Davis.”
“Again.”
“Davis!”
“That’s my girl.” He uses one hand to pull my shirt up and over my head, yanks down my bra, then bends, drawing my nipple into his mouth.
“You taste so good,” he gasps, coming up for air. “Am I too rough?”
I shake my head again, frantically pushing his face back down. “They’re not sensitive. Harder. Please, Davis.”
He does, licking, and sucking, biting me until I’m writhing in his arms. His hand leaves my breast, travelling down, the twin sounds of zips coming undone, and his fingers are sliding through me, spreading my slickness up and down my slit before sinking deep.
I scream into his hair at the perfect intrusion of his fingers, curling to give me the extra jolt I need.
His thumb rubs my clit, and I’m flying. He’s filling me, inside and out, my body and my head, his dark vanilla scent blocking out the smell of stale beer and ciggies.
I close my eyes and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in the warm skin as he pumps me.
“You’re so fucking hot, Cee,” he mumbles between sucks, and my chest fills with champagne bubbles, tart and fizzy, and I laugh because I know what’s coming.
I am.
He hits that perfect spot in the perfect rhythm, one, two, three times, and on the fourth, he bites down on my nipple hard, and I explode. Pleasure and pain and sweet, sweet relief judder through me, one after the other, leaving nothing but cool white blankness in their wake.
In the distance somewhere beyond the oasis of my own mind, Davis is still moving, his hand inside me. I push his forearm gently. “Not the clit. Too sensitive.”
The extra pressure stops instantly, and I snuggle in further, my face buried in warm cotton, still impaled on his fingers with my legs around his waist.
“Cee?”
“Quiet.”
“Cee. Your ass is vibrating.”
“Ugh.” I peel myself backward, my head hitting the wall because I can’t be bothered to use my neck muscles to keep it up. I keep my eyes closed as Davis lowers me to the floor, but once my feet are on the ground again, I open them to see him watching me as he licks me off his fingers.
Desire shudders through me once more. Fuck, that’s hot.
He holds my gaze as he kicks his boots off and lowers his unzipped jeans.
“If you think I’m going to let you fuck me on my desk,” I warn, my voice lazy with contentment, “you have seriously overestimated my budget for office furniture.”