Chapter 8 Avalon #2
His eyes roam my body, stopping on my lips before looking back at me. He’s not even ashamed that I caught him looking. And I don’t even care that he was. I came here hoping for one thing, I can’t be angry at him for wanting the same thing.
Now, I move closer, shrinking the gap between us even more.
“You know, everyone always told me that guys with earrings were bad news.”
“I only have one,” he whispers, “so I’m only half bad.” He reaches up, cupping my face, as his thumb brushes my lower lip.
His eyes are glued to them. Like he’s not allowed to look anywhere else, and I don’t hate it.
What I hate is him not making the move. He’s forward with his words, but we'd already be out of here if he was forward with his actions. He’d already be giving me my first release of the night, but instead, we’re sitting on a couch watching each other.
“Are you gonna make a move, or will I have to find my escape elsewhere tonight?” I question, and he pulls me into him with a large smile. My lips melt into his, a shiver dancing down my spine as his hand leaves my face and finds my waist, pulling me on top of him.
I’m usually not one for PDA, but for some reason, with him, I don’t seem to care. I care even less when his tongue enters the equation. His tongue dances around my mouth with my own, and I have to fight the moan traveling up my throat so I don’t release the breathy sound in a room full of people.
Zeke doesn’t seem to care as much as I do about the people surrounding us.
He grinds my body against him, allowing me to feel just how much he wants this.
He’s just fully hard in the middle of a crowded party and doesn’t give a single fuck.
And with the heat traveling to my core, I know in a few minutes I won’t care either.
I’d probably give in to fucking him right on this couch if we aren’t out of here soon.
“We should get out of here,” I mumble against his lips.
“Upstairs.” His lips leave mine and meet my neck.
“Bedrooms are off-limits.” I feel his lips vibrate against my neck with a laugh. I lean back and look at him. “What?”
“They’re off-limits for guests. I live here. The bedroom we're going to is mine.”
“You live here?”
“Yeah.”
“Why’d it take you so long to suggest going upstairs?” I ask. “I was this close to sleeping with you right here.”
“That would’ve definitely made the party a little more exciting.” He stands up, my legs still wrapped around his waist. My feet find the floor, but his hands don’t leave my waist.
“Lead the way.”
I follow him through the crowd, and even though he’s in front of me the whole walk to his room, he’s in constant contact with me.
His finger was hooked through the belt loops in my jeans, or my hand was in his.
And the second we’re through his bedroom door, he’s lifting me up and pressing me against it.
“I just,” he begins, in between kisses, “want to make sure,” another kiss, “you’re okay with this,” another kiss, “being a one time,” another kiss, “thing.”
His hard body holds me against the door, allowing his hands to sneak under my shirt and graze my bare stomach.
“I don’t do attachments.” I hope he understands that means I’m good with this being a one-time thing. I’m the Queen of one-time things.
He pulls away to look at me, “You don’t do attachments?” I shake my head. “You just sleep around?”
“Why? Only guys are allowed to do that.”
“No, not at all. I just, girls always tell me they’re fine with it until the next day, and suddenly, they want to go get breakfast or—”
“Not me,” I continue. “Look, you’re hot and all, but you’re just another release for me. In a few days, I won’t even remember your name, and I’ll be finding that release with someone else.”
“So, no strings?”
“No strings.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I am. You’re clean, right?”
“Very. You?”
“Very.”
After a beat, his lips are back on mine as he swings us around and throws me onto his bed.
He peels his t-shirt off his body, giving me an even better view of the tattoos decorating his arms and upper chest, and as he stalks toward me, I kick off my shoes.
His hands travel up my body and slip into my jacket to push it down my arms before pulling it off.
Next off is my shirt, leaving the top half of my body nearly bare, except for my bra, and he takes full advantage of my bare skin, allowing his lips to travel from my stomach up to my chest and neck before finding my lips again.
My fingers weave through his hair as I feel one of his hands glide gently down my body until he finds the button of my jeans, skillfully popping it open with one hand.
He bites my lower lip before his mouth meets the sensitive skin under my ear, and his hand finds warmth inside my jeans.
His fingers graze against the waistband of my underwear and then find their way underneath.
The second he pushes his fingers inside of me, my hips lift off his bed, and I bite my lip to stop the moan caught in my throat.
“You don’t have to stop yourself on my account,” he whispers against my ear. “Make all the noise you want; it’s too loud downstairs; nobody will hear you.”
It’s like he read my mind. I’m used to having sex at my place when nobody’s home, so I’ve never worried about hearing my pleasure.
But there’s a whole party happening downstairs that my brain is very aware of, but knowing that they can’t hear us, or at least Zeke says they can’t, gets rid of the thought completely.
All that’s running through my mind is the steady rhythm of his fingers and his lips brushing against my skin. My toes start to curl as I get close to my first, but hopefully not last, orgasm of the night, but right as I’m at the peak, his fingers are gone.
I don’t mean to whimper, but I do, and he hears me.
“Trust me.”
That’s all he says as he kisses his way down my body before slipping my jeans and underwear off.
His hands wrap around my ankles and tug me gently toward the end of the bed.
He winks as he gets on his knees and kisses his way up my legs.
He knows the perfect mixture of kisses and nibbles, and each time he bites the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs, he soothes the pain with his tongue.
It’s the perfect sensation to get my senses tingling.
Until his lips get closer and closer to my center, and I realize that I was so close to a real orgasm, and now I’ll probably have to fake it.
Because oral doesn’t work for me. It’s like guys think their mouth is a jackhammer when they go down on a girl, and if you even try to give most of them suggestions, you’ll bruise their fragile ego.
And if I’ve learned anything, just because they say they’re sexually experienced doesn't mean—
“Oh, fuck me,” I moan as his tongue meets my skin, and this time when I slam my head against the headboard, it’s my own doing as I try to squirm away from his mouth. He doesn’t let me get far, though. His hands firmly grip my waist to keep me where he wants me.
I should’ve known by the way his tongue danced around my mouth that he’d know how to skillfully use it elsewhere.
I feel the sheets scrunch beneath my body as it tenses in pleasure. It’s a weird sensation, one I’ve never felt before. The mixture of never wanting it to end because it feels so good but needing it to end for the same reason. It’s almost too much for my body to handle.
My breathing picks up as I reach my peak, and I can tell Zeke notices because, at the same time, he picks up his speed.
Before I know it, a shockwave of chills is shooting through my body as I moan, every nerve in my body tingling as I reach a release, but he doesn’t stop.
Not right away. He waits for me to come back down from whatever the fuck that sensation was.
When I open my eyes, my breathing returning to normal, I see him hovering over me.
I collect the little energy I have left and smile at him.
“Your turn.”