CHAPTER 25 #3
Fucking hell . . . I was hard again. Instantly. As if my body had learned nothing from the last time.
She glanced up at me with wide, innocent eyes and smiled like this was a normal evening. Like she wasn’t actively wrecking me with dairy and audacity.
“You’re back,” she said sweetly.
I leaned a hip against the counter and nodded, folding my arms across my chest in an attempt to shield myself from the little sounds she was making. The way her lips closed around the fork. The tiny moan of pleasure when the cheesecake hit her tongue. The slow slide of her throat as she swallowed.
I told myself to stay where I was.
I’d just set her apartment on fire. She was vulnerable. We had the rest of our lives to sate my hunger.
Unfortunately for her, I was unable to listen to myself.
Eden took another bite, and a smear of cheesecake caught at the corner of her mouth . . . once again that was it.
I pushed off the counter and crossed the kitchen in two strides, the decision already made somewhere below my brain. She barely had time to look up before I was there, one hand braced on the back of her chair, the other gripping the edge of the table.
Her eyes widened. “What are you—”
I didn’t answer with words.
I reached down, fisted the waistband of her leggings, and ripped them apart in one tug. The fabric tore along the seams with a loud, satisfying sound, splitting open from hip to hip. She gasped, her thighs parting instinctively as cool air hit her bare skin.
I didn’t give her time to react.
I grabbed the half-eaten slice of cheesecake from her plate and smashed it between her legs.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her hips jerking at the contact.
The cold cream smeared across her folds, coating her clit, and dripping down her inner thighs.
I rubbed it in slow circles, watching her face—watching her eyes flutter shut, her mouth fall open, her chest rise and fall in quick, uneven bursts.
Then I dropped to my knees.
My hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider, and I leaned in.
My tongue slid through the mess I’d made, sweet cheesecake mixed with her own slick heat, the taste of her and sugar exploding on my tongue.
I licked her clean, slow at first, savoring every inch, then faster, hungrier, sucking her clit between my lips and flicking it with the tip of my tongue until her hips bucked against my face.
She cried out brokenly, and she fisted my hair, pulling me closer.
I devoured her.
I ate the cheesecake off her like it was the only thing keeping me alive, licking and sucking until she was trembling, her thighs shaking around my head, and her moans turning into sobs.
“Jagger!”
I didn’t stop. I sucked harder. Thrust my tongue deeper. Rubbed her clit faster.
She shattered, and her scream echoed off the kitchen walls, her body convulsing, pussy pulsing against my mouth as she came hard, gushing over my tongue in hot, sweet waves. I drank every drop of her release mixed with the remnants of cheesecake, groaning into her.
I pulled back just enough to catch her expression. Her eyes were wide and glassy as she stared down at me in shock.
“You had some on your lip,” I rasped, making it sound as reasonable as possible.
She made a cute gasping noise as she continued to stare at me as I got up off the floor and dragged a hand through my hair, very much aware of how quickly this had escalated. My plan had been to give her at least twenty-four hours before I’d jumped her.
Obviously that hadn’t gone well.
I’d also promised that my dick was going to be the next thing to give her an orgasm . . . but I didn’t have any regrets.
Eden swallowed and blinked, then cleared her throat like she was about to negotiate a ceasefire instead of recovering from being eaten out in my kitchen.
She pulled down on her shirt to try to hide the gaping hole in her leggings, but she wasn’t very successful.
I made sure I was standing where I could look right at her pussy while we talked.
Hey . . . at least that had happened in my house instead of a staff bathroom this time. This seemed way more appropriate. And it had involved cheesecake. I couldn’t think of anything to complain about.
“I think we need some rules,” she said after a full minute of us just staring at each other. “At least for tonight. While I’m here.”
I let out a quiet huff, more in amusement than agreement. “I’m listening,” I said, because this conversation felt like it could be fun.
Her eyes widened again, startled that I played along, but she rallied and lifted her chin. She was so brave and adorable and doomed.
“Okay,” she said, taking another steadying breath. “Rule one. No more touching.”
“No,” I replied instantly, without even the courtesy of pretending to consider it.
She stared at me. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“I didn’t need to,” I said dryly. “Next rule.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. “Minimal touching . . . at least while I’m living here and depending on you. So it’s not weird.”
“Still no.”
“Every other day touching?” she offered, clearly bargaining with the universe now.
“Also no.”
She groaned softly and slumped back in her chair. “You’re terrible at rules.”
“I’m excellent at rules,” I said. “I’ve just never seen much need for them. And the ones you’re proposing?” I tipped my head and exaggeratedly licked my lips so she knew I was tasting her cum as I did it. “They’re bad.”
She made a face at me. An indignant one. Then she inhaled, clearly regrouping, and stared up at the ceiling like the answers might be written there.
“Okay,” she said slowly, thinking out loud now. “Fine. New rules. How about . . . no food sharing? That seems reasonable. I should at least be paying for my food, and Mrs. Nesbitt’s has got to be way out of my price range.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That one has already been violated . . . in multiple ways. So obviously I’m rejecting it. I’m actually looking forward to sharing food again. Immediately, as a matter of fact.”
Her eyes flicked to my mouth and then away again, and she blushed. “This is impossible.”
I leaned down, bracing my hands on either side of her chair, crowding her space just enough to be unbearable.
“Welcome to my world,” I murmured, already knowing she wasn’t done trying to put space between us and that I was going to enjoy every second of rejecting it.
She opened her mouth to argue again, to drag another doomed rule into existence, but instead a yawn slipped out of her, and her shoulders sagged as if the day had finally caught up with her all at once.
Of course she was tired. Anyone would be, after the kind of day she’d had.
Most of her bad day was my fault, of course, but I was willing to bet that all would be forgotten once she saw what life was like sleeping on my mattress instead of the pile of iron springs, aka torture devices, she was used to.
Let it be stated for the record that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for this girl. My dick was once again so hard and desperate to get inside her that this time, I might really rip it off trying to get relief later.
“Hey,” I said, forcing my voice into something soothing instead of the unhinged, feral version of me that was trying to get out. “You’ve had a long day.”
Eden’s eyes softened, and she leaned toward me before she caught herself and straightened. “Yeah. I have.”
I held out a hand, keeping my eyes off her vagina like the gentleman I could sometimes be. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”
She eyed me like I’d just suggested a felony. “Just my room, right,” she clarified, looking suspicious.
I nodded, all innocence and Scout’s honor. “Of course. Your room. Who else’s would it be?”
That earned me a narrow look that said she didn’t believe me for a second, but she stood anyway and let me lead her out of the kitchen.
We moved down the hall together, her steps slow as she continued to take it all in. I stopped at a door and pushed it open.
Her mouth dropped open as she stepped inside, and yeah .
. . I got it. The room was large and unmistakably expensive, a space a very popular designer had planned down to the inch.
Dark hardwood floors gleamed under low, recessed lighting.
The bed dominated the far wall, oversized with a padded headboard in charcoal fabric, with crisp white sheets tucked so tight they looked like they’d never been slept in.
A reading chair by the window was upholstered in soft leather, paired with a small side table and a lamp that cast a warm, controlled glow instead of harsh light.
Heavy curtains framed the bulletproof glass, because although it was unlikely someone would be able to get up to the penthouse windows . . . you could never be too careful.
“This is . . .” she started, then trailed off.
I leaned against the doorframe, watching her reaction with something like satisfaction. “Nice?”
She nodded slowly, still turning in a small circle as she took everything in. “Yeah, really nice,” she whispered.
“The bathroom’s through there,” I said, nodding toward the door off to the side. “You can borrow one of my shirts to sleep in. Tomorrow we’ll go shopping.”
Eden turned back to me, her eyes sharp despite the yawn she tried to hide. “There are two things wrong with that sentence.”
I lifted a brow, amused. “Are there?”
“One,” she said, ticking it off, “I can sleep in what I’m wearing. Two, I can buy my own clothes.”
I stared at her incredulously for a second and then dramatically dragged my gaze to where she was still trying to cover her delicious pussy with her shirt. “You have a hole in your leggings, and they’re covered in cheesecake and cum. I think you should use my shirt.”
I went into my closet and came back out holding a soft black T-shirt.
It hit her then. She looked at the shirt. Then the bed. Then the chair. Then the windows. Her gaze snapped back to me, slow realization dawning as everything clicked into place.
“This is your bedroom,” she said.
“Yeah.”