Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Alarm bells rang faintly in her head. She wasn’t ready to share everything with him. But she wasn’t going to remind him of that now, not when she wanted him so badly.
She wriggled in his grip, and he let her slide down his body until her feet hit the floor.
She wanted to get him back to her bedroom, where she had a flat surface, pillows, and condoms, but then he kissed her, and she couldn’t think of anything except how good it felt to be close to him.
His lips moved confidently over hers, taking control but responding to her slightest movement.
He was leading her, not overpowering her, and that kind of thoughtful attention turned her body to butter.
Urgency grew in her center, even as her muscles melted, becoming pliant and languid, trusting him to take care of her.
He trapped her against the wall, one hand in her hair, angling her head to take his kiss, and the other cupping her breast. His thumb circled her nipple while his hips hit exactly the right spot between her thighs.
Rebecca is so right. Who needs a bed when there are four walls in every room? “Condom?” she asked.
“Wallet,” he mumbled against her lips. “But you’ll have to wait. I’ve got my hands full.”
The hand on her breast traveled lower, shaping her waist, squeezing her ass, sliding down the back of her thigh, and then finally hooking behind her knee and hauling her leg up to his waist. She balanced on one leg and tugged her dress up and out of the way.
They slid closer. “I’m—oh God.” He was so hard against her, rocking gently, barely moving. The friction was exquisite, like he knew he had her pinned, hovering on the edge of orgasm. “So close,” she moaned.
But she wanted him inside her—coming with her. “Please,” she begged.
“Please what?” He continued the torturous rhythm that drove every thought from her mind.
“I want…” Would it even work? The height difference. The angle… “Where’s your wallet?”
“Inside breast pocket.”
Thank heavens. It was an easy reach. She fumbled between them, located his wallet, and extracted the plastic square.
“Better check the expiration date,” he said, kissing her shoulder.
“We’re good.” She tucked it into her bodice and started working on his belt, losing her focus several times when his tongue in her mouth made her squirm. He let her struggle, continuing his erotic assault on her lips.
Finally, she had his pants unfastened. With a twist of her wrist, she freed his cock from his boxers. He leaned back, giving her mere inches.
“Do it,” he urged. She ripped open the packet and curved forward. He arched his back, and it was done.
“Move your panties aside,” he demanded, smiling down at her, his gaze molten.
She reached lower, found the fabric panel, and bared herself to him.
He growled, lifted her higher and notched himself into her center. Together, they watched his cock slide home.
She clenched around him, feeling a deep tug in her core, and began to move, tiny restless thrusts that kindled a fluttery sensation. She couldn’t stop moving, chasing sensation, watching him coast in and out of her body, driving her higher, until she couldn’t focus anymore.
She sagged, her head falling back against the wall.
He stilled. “Get your zipper, sweetheart.”
She would have done anything to make him start moving again, so she scrambled to do as he asked. She eased her side zipper down and shrugged out of her bodice, her bare breasts falling heavily.
He bounced her higher, held her tighter, and bent, holding her gaze as he sucked first one nipple and then the other into his mouth.
He settled on one, sucking hard while he gazed at her like he was eating up her every expression.
She leaned against the wall, boneless, while her center drew tighter and tighter.
She opened to him, using her standing leg for leverage and her other leg to pull him harder against her.
His lips, tongue, and teeth abraded her nipple, putting a keen edge on her pleasure.
She had never, ever felt as connected to anyone as she did to him right now.
The intimacy of his gaze, glowing in approval and anticipation, the wicked gleam promising he was nowhere near done with her, and the comfort she felt in his arms despite their awkward position, sent her screaming and thrashing over the edge, grinding against his hips and clutching his head to her breasts.
Pleasure detonated in her core and blasted through her entire body. Her back arched, and her eyes slammed shut. Just in time, his hand cushioned her head from the wall.
Oh God, his hand.
She was still pulsing, and she already wanted him to make her come again, just by rubbing her clit with his callus.
She wanted his talented fingers deep inside her, painting her with her own arousal.
At the thought, a low, shuddery moan broke from her throat, and aftershocks rocked through her, making her squeeze his hard length.
She gasped, forcing her heavy eyelids to open.
“You didn’t come?” Her voice was slightly hoarse. How loud had she been screaming? Were the neighbors going to complain?
“It was a close call.” His pupils were blown, leaving only a bare ring of caramel around them. “But I managed to hold on by reciting my Torah portion from my bar mitzvah.”
“You still remember that?” She laughed, and then gasped as she tightened around him, setting off another wave of aftershocks.
He groaned. “No, which is why it did the trick.”
He rested his head on her breasts and took a deep breath. Then he gently lowered her leg to the floor and slowly pulled out of her body.
She missed him immediately, but he pressed slow, thorough, mind-melting kisses to her lips, inching backward so slowly she was surprised when her shin bumped the couch.
“I can’t wait to paint you with frosting,” he said.
“I’m game.” After an orgasm like that, he could paint whatever of hers he wanted. “Where do you want me?”
“On my lap. Naked. With me inside you.” He smiled against her lips. “I told you I had a plan.”
It had taken every ounce of self-control not to come while she pulsed around him, so beautiful abandoned to pleasure that he couldn’t stop staring at her. Joy had burst so hard inside him, it had felt like an orgasm, but he was still good to go, so he wasn’t going to question it.
Full steam ahead with plan art-gasm.
He waggled his brows at her. “Race you to naked.”
She beat him, even though she’d made sure the door was locked and the blinds were completely lowered. She’d even arranged a blanket over the couch before he managed to divest himself of his suit, throw it over a chair, and wash his hands.
Finally, he sank onto the couch and tugged her onto his lap, making sure the condom was still where it was supposed to be.
“All good?” she asked.
He nodded, holding himself in position.
He thought he was ready for her wet heat, but as he bottomed out inside her, his vision went black, and his head fell back against the couch. He gripped her hips, holding her still.
“Hang on—I have never in my entire life felt anything this good,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “And I don’t want to come yet.” But his hips bucked up into her helplessly, driving him perilously close to the edge.
She pinned him to the couch with her hips and bent to chant into his ear. “Baruch ata Adonai...”
His laugh was breathless—and grateful. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate for this occasion, but nice save.”
“It’s the only Hebrew I know.” She shrugged, her breasts bouncing.
He had the full piping bags clutched in his hand but no scissors. “Technical difficulty,” he said, frowning.
She leaned to grab something off the end table. “Looking for these?” She held up a pair of utility scissors.
“How on earth did you think to grab scissors?”
Her grin was smug. “I’m a pastry chef. In any situation involving dessert, part of my brain is always thinking about logistics.”
“You delight me.”
Her grin widened. “You good now?” She shifted her hips experimentally.
“Yep.” His brain had shifted into a professional zone, too, snipping the tips of the frosting bags and examining his “canvas.” The yellow and blue had made him want to draw irises, but the shape of her breasts demanded a rounder bloom.
He settled on forget-me-nots, an easy design she would wear beautifully.
Plus, forget-me-nots were often associated with love and remembrance, and he hoped this would be an experience to remember—for both of them.
“Ready?” he asked, raising the blue bag.
She nodded, biting her lip.
He outlined the first petal, deciding to make her nipple the center of the bloom.
Since she sat above him, he had room to draw both above and below her nipple, but he’d have to be quick.
The heat of her skin was already warming the frosting.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, swiftly sketching the remaining petals, keeping the blooms small, a perfect mouthful.
She made a soft sound and circled her hips.
He throbbed inside her, but stayed focused on her breasts. She kept her torso still for him, isolating her movement to her hips. He didn’t move a muscle below his waist, holding rock steady as she took her pleasure from him.
Her body bloomed, growing wetter, her movements more fluid.
His mouth watered, and he swallowed, licking his lips.
Her hips rocked. His hands stroked. They both moaned quietly.
Finally, he was finished. He tossed the bags aside and rested his head on the couch, gazing up at her breasts, adorned with flowers, floating above him. “So pretty.”
He lifted one finger to the yellow center of a forget-me-not and dragged it through the frosting. He circled her nipple, enjoying the way it made her body flutter around him.
“I’ve nearly come three times while you had your fun,” she said in a strained voice.
“I know,” he said dreamily. “I could feel it. Hold on for me a little longer. You can do it.”
She groaned, and he smiled, trailing his finger through the frosting on her right breast, admiring the way the colors changed.
He created a different pattern on her left breast, praising her as she cursed him under her breath.
“So sweet,” he whispered as he licked every bit of frosting from his finger.
As he’d painted her with frosting, he’d entered an almost meditative state, forcing his attention away from his throbbing cock, ignoring the pleasure rolling up and down his spine in tingling waves, completely disassociating from the urge to thrust fiercely into her. Now, he returned to his body—and hers.
He licked delicately at her left breast, gently teasing the icing from her skin, sucking wetly and then nibbling her nipple until no sweetness remained.
“Micah, you are driving me crazy. I need—”
Before she could tell him, he fastened his mouth over her right breast, covering the entire bloom. He sucked hard, tonguing her nipple mercilessly. He wrapped his left arm around her waist while he slipped his other hand between them, easily locating her swollen clit.
Then—finally— he moved his hips.
She detonated on his first desperate thrust, squeezing him so hard he saw stars.
He bucked again, even harder, urgent, mindless need driving him toward release while he fought to stay in control.
He gripped her hips, working her up and down his length as she rode out her orgasm, her soft, sexy whimpers music to his ears.
She shuddered above him, abandoned to pleasure, the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen—until she opened her eyes.
A tender smile curved her lips, and she wrapped her arms around him. With a groan, he poured himself into her embrace. His pleasure felt endless, weightless, so otherworldly, he might have floated away if she hadn’t been anchoring him to the couch with her hips.
He lifted his face, and her kiss felt like a blessing, washing away his last, lingering doubts.
He leaned to the side, wanting nothing more than to wrap the blanket around them and wallow in bliss, but then he remembered the condom.
Groaning, he righted them and held himself together as she raised her hips.
“Shower or bed?” she asked, arching a wicked brow.
Five seconds ago, he would have said bed, but now? With arousal gleaming on the inside of her thighs and the remnants of frosting shining on her breasts, he couldn’t resist another taste. “Definitely shower.”