Chapter 19 #2
I found I’d raised my hands, had grabbed his shirt around the shoulders and was holding on for dear life. I was on my tiptoes, too.
He sucked on my lip for a second, then let go. This time when I moaned, it was in complaint.
“Talk to me. Tell me,” he whispered, his hand moved to my neck, his other snaking all around my waist, pulling me closer to him.
I felt him against my chest clearly. I felt how hard he was, too, and shivers broke down the length of me.
“What do you want me to do to you, Spade?”
Lie, the rational part of me demanded. Lie-lie-lie!
I didn’t. “What you did to that cupcake.”
Heat on my cheeks. A thousand thoughts died in my head. I was consumed by him in a second, in the way he froze, the way he looked at me like he couldn’t believe the words that had come out of my mouth.
Could he tell that I meant them?
Probably. That’s why he slammed his lips to mine in the next second, and not only that. He moved me with ease, pushed me until my back hit a wall, and then he was everywhere.
My jacket ended up on the floor embarrassingly fast. He pushed himself against me and I could no longer tell who was moaning louder when his hard erection pressed against my pelvis.
I rose on my tiptoes, needing him lower.
My body was on fire. His hand was on my ass, and every time he thrust himself against me, he also pulled me at the same time until it hurt so beautifully.
My tongue explored his mouth, and his teeth drew blood from my lips—and he ate me just like he did that cupcake.
I could stay there wrapped up in him forever.
I could kiss him until my jaw fell off, because when he was here, nothing was more important.
Whatever we’d done, however we’d gotten here—I didn’t care.
This was all I had right now, the only thing keeping me grounded in this strange world I’d woken up in.
But March had different plans.
When he let go of my mouth, he had to bring his hand to my neck to stop me from kissing him.
It wasn’t intentional—it was instinctual.
He was life, and every fiber of my being demanded I cling to it.
But he held me back against the wall and proceeded to nibble at my cheek, kissed my eyes and my forehead, pulled my lobe between his teeth and sucked.
The sounds that left me would possibly embarrass me tomorrow, but right now, I didn’t care.
And March continued to kiss and lick and bite under my jawline, down my neck.
It was a different kind of bliss, one I was almost entirely sure I’d never felt before, and that I had. Impossible to explain, but the more of me he tasted, the more his I became—but it didn’t feel new. It felt like…returning.
March didn’t stop.
His mouth was on my collarbone, his hands on my shoulders, caressing my arms that were wrapped around his neck. My fingers were tangled in his curls, and his pulled up my nightgown, slipped underneath and pressed against my stomach.
My eyes were closed and my back arched the higher up he reached, and I hung on that moment.
I hung on him where he touched me. Those hands were made for me by Time Himself.
He kissed down my chest, and his hands met his mouth right at my breast. I’d never wanted something not to exist as much as I did that nightgown, even though half of it was made of thin lace.
March didn’t mind it at first. His hand closed around my breast, and his mouth closed around my other nipple right over the fabric.
I held his head to me with all my strength, terrified he’d let go, and he couldn’t. Not now, not ever.
This had to be better than the Everstill, better than anything I would ever feel. And it became even more intense when he pulled down the neckline of my nightgown and took my breast in his mouth.
The pleasure was so intense I cried out.
A faint thought tried to warn me that someone might hear, but I couldn’t care if I tried.
March was having his way with me with his teeth and with his tongue, and I had to open my eyes to look, to make sure I wasn’t only imagining it.
I wasn’t. His eyes were wide open like he needed to see exactly what he was doing to me, too, every little inch of my skin he grazed with his teeth and licked with his tongue.
Maybe it was just me, but he looked fascinated, completely in awe.
I said his name. I called for Time. I touched his hair and his face and his shoulders, tried to get that shirt off him, too, so I could feel his naked skin against my own, but March was already on his knees.
He kept one hand on my breasts, massaging my nipples, playing with one then the other.
He’d pulled my nightgown up all the way, and he dragged those perfect lips down my stomach, biting around my belly button for a moment before he went lower.
Before he hooked his fingers on the sides of my black panties.
There, he stopped. Looked up at me, breathing as heavily as I was. I’d never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of his perfect face on his knees before me, brows narrowed, eyes wide and full of color, completely at my mercy.
He waited a tick with his lips parted, the question all over his face.
I wanted to speak, to tell him yes, yes, a million times yes, but I was too shy. I was burning. The best I could do was nod.
The grin that stretched his lips blew on the fire between my legs. He held my eyes as he slowly pulled my panties down, exposing my pelvis, and he never once looked away when he leaned in to kiss the soft skin there.
I wanted to look away, needed to, but couldn’t tear my eyes off his face. With my breath held and my muscles locked tightly, I watched him kiss his way from my hip and toward my center, his lips on every new inch of skin he revealed as he pushed my panties farther and farther…
“Red velvet used to be my favorite taste,” he said, his voice rough, hoarse, full. “It’s not anymore.” His tongue came out and he licked my skin while I watched, lower and lower until he had me perfectly exposed.
I expected to be embarrassed when he looked between my legs, to want to cover myself, use my hands, pull my panties up again—but no. March growled and continued to kiss his way south, and I held onto the wall for dear life when his lips pressed right there.
His tongue nudged my clit. My hand wrapped around my mouth on instinct. March moaned, muttered something under his breath, and licked me again, deeper, slower, with just the right pressure—
And then came the scream.