CHAPTER 19
Bailey
With glassy eyes, Palmer jumps so that her ass, bare except for her thong, hits the countertop with a light slapping sound.
I back away to watch her, all of her. Goosebumps raise the hair on her body from the cool wood against her skin, and she scoots back by wiggling her hips.
My stare is molten, taking in every movement of her body as she situates into place.
Goddammit, why did I wait so long to get her naked?
I know why.
I know why I didn’t fuck her in that back alley, quickly and sloppily, like a couple of teenagers. Or why I didn’t fuck her a week ago when she drunkenly begged me to.
I waited for this.
Because I’m going to take my time with her. I’m going to use her until she thinks she has nothing more to give, then coax at least two more orgasms from her beautiful body. I’m going to make her cry my name over and over until that’s the only word left in her mind and the only sound stuck in mine.
I waited those torturous hours and days, repeatedly stroking my cock to the picture of her smile seared in my brain and the soundtrack of her saying my name, because right now, in this moment and this place:
She.
Is.
Mine.
Once the backs of her knees reach the edge of the island and she can’t move any further, Palmer settles her legs into place and looks at me, studying my face. I can’t tear my gaze from her.
Her large breasts bounce with her shifting, her nipples taut from me sucking on them.
The delicious rolls of her belly fold over each other supplely, ending in the broad curve of her hips.
Her thighs are thick and ample. My eyes follow the curves of her calves and end at her pedicured feet where I know, without a doubt, I will find myself on my knees worshipping this perfect woman in front of me.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring, but Palmer shifts her arms to cover her belly, heat rising in her face.
“Don’t.” The command is brief.
She looks at me, unsure of how to react. “Don’t what?”
My eyes rise to meet hers, and I cross the kitchen slowly until I stand between her legs. “Don’t cover yourself.”
“Why not?” Palmer looks at me skeptically as I wrap my hands around each of her wrists to remove them.
“Because…” I drag her right arm away from her stomach and plant it by her hip, not releasing my grip.
“In case you weren’t aware, I really enjoy fine art.
” I do the same with her left. “And fine art is meant to be displayed. Which is really my fancy way of saying…” I kiss her forcefully, my tongue taking her mouth and eliciting a moan.
I withdraw my kiss, and her lips gravitate toward mine, begging for more.
Instead, I nip her bottom lip and finish my sentence. “I’m not done looking at you.”
Pulling away, I watch her half-lidded eyes follow me across the room. “Lay back onto the island.”
Palmer does so without question, her arms at her side. Rounding the island, I place my thumb on her clit and apply soft pressure, circling the sensitive spot. She gasps, arching into my touch. I withdraw my hand and make my way to her head, bending to give her a soft kiss. “’Atta girl.”
Reaching behind me, I hit the switch that turns off the overhead light, replacing the warm glow with the bright white from the three pendant lights illuminating the island.
With the increased lighting, I am able to explore Palmer’s body in more detail.
Colorful ink swirls around her ribs, ending at her hips.
A black snake and geometric pattern decorates her sternum.
I trace the pattern with my pointer finger, following underneath her breast to the flowers that line the exterior.
“Mm.” I hum my appreciation. “This is sexy, Palmer.” I bend to plant a kiss between her breasts, and she shivers under my lips, despite the warmth of the lights from overhead. I move back up to her head. “Lift.”
She does, and I remove the clip, untwirling her hair so that it surrounds her face.
“So beautiful,” I murmur, gently kissing her forehead.
I place my hands on either side of her face and work them slowly down her body.
I trace her lips with my thumb, then drag my hands down her neck and clavicles.
My fingers make their way deliberately across her breasts to her ribs, then skate down her waist and hips and cross the waistband of her barely-there thong.
Her body responds to my touch, pressing into my hands, offering itself up for the taking, but I don’t yet.
Soon.
“Put your feet up on the counter,” I order.
Palmer draws her knees up toward the ceiling, her heels balanced against the end of the island, opening her legs for me. My cock twitches painfully against the constraints of my jeans.
Holy fuck.
Through the sheer material, her pussy eagerly waits for me, pink and soaking wet.
Baseball, cold showers, baseball, cold showers, baseball, cold showers, baseball…
I want to fuck her. Now. I want to feel her pussy envelope my cock, squeezing around me when she comes. I want—no, I need to be inside her and watch her face as the only thing she thinks about is her next orgasm.
Although it might fucking kill me, I force myself to go slow.
First, I move my hands up her ankles and wrap around, following her calves.
Even slower, I grip her thighs and slide my hands up toward their apex.
Before they can reach the edge of her panties, I skim upward and rest my hands on her hips.
God, I can’t wait until I’m gripping her like this later as I thrust my cock into her, her body bouncing delectably in response.
“Something you need to know about me, Palmer,” I start. Her body is so responsive to my touch. “Is as much as I enjoy getting off, getting you off is going to be just as satisfying.”
I move my right hand slowly down. Down over her waistband, down the front of the material, down to circle my thumb lazily over her swollen clit. One, two, three times.
Palmer moans, her body writhing into my touch. She wants to come for me. Her body begs for me, for release. Just a little bit longer, baby.
“Your pleasure gives me pleasure,” I croon. “So, I need you to understand that I intend to make you come over and over again. And just when you think you can’t handle coming again, you will. You’ll come for me, and then I’ll fuck you.”
Keeping my thumb on her clit, I continue my lazy circles.
I lean forward and replace my thumb with my tongue, tracing leisurely circles along the outside of the material.
Palmer cries out, her hips bucking against my mouth.
I continue this torture for another few circles, until it’s too much for both of us.
“Because more than I want to come, I want to watch you come for me.”
I need to taste her—all of her—without anything between us.
Drawing back, I hook my fingers in the waistband of her panties and tug. She lifts her hips, and they slide down her legs and drop to the floor.
I take a moment to look at Palmer. Her breasts rise rapidly with her breath, and her eyes are closed with her brow furrowed as if in concentration. Her hands grip the edges of the island, her knuckles white. Palmer’s body is wound tight, primed for her pending release.
The release I’m about to give her.
Bending forward, I trace two fingers through her slickened arousal and suck it off my fingers, denying myself one final time. “God, Palmer. You taste so fucking good.”
“Bailey, please.” Palmer whimpers my name, dissolving any remainder of resolve I might have had left, and my tongue is on her, lapping at her deliciously wet pussy as her moans tattoo themselves into the very fiber of my being.