Chapter 2 Remy #2
I watch him freeing my shirt buttons with concentration in his green eyes, and I can’t help smiling.
The situation is so surreal, so outrageously unbelievable, that I’m starting to think that someone spiked my bottle of water and I’m having weird hallucinations.
Any moment now, I’ll wake up on the bathroom floor in a puddle of my own drool.
“Do you want me to stop?” His fingers hover over my exposed bra. Not touching, but close enough for me to feel his warmth.
I acknowledge the tingling between my legs and the butterflies in my core. I haven’t felt anything like this since… Well, ever.
“No.” I grab his hand and tuck it inside my shirt and over my breast.
He smiles. “You want to skip the foreplay?”
Shit. I thought foreplay was for shy teenagers still in the fumbling around phase. George didn’t bother with it once we were in a relationship. And why the fuck am I letting him into my head when I’m in bed with a literal adonis? He’ll ruin everything, even if this is all a dream.
The fizzing in my core is telling me that Bash will be good at foreplay. “No.” On the other hand, perhaps we should skip straight to the part where he’s inside me before I wake up. “Yes.”
A low chuckle erupts from him, and I feel the vibrations in my chest. “Are you always so indecisive?”
“Are you always so intense?”
His lips brush mine, kitten soft. “Only when something is worth a hundred percent of my attention.”
“Is that a chat-up line?” God, what is wrong with me? Lesson one in how to kill the vibe right there.
“Have we met before? That’s a chat-up line. I asked for an angel and the universe sent you. Corny, but I guess it might work in certain situations.”
I’m giggling now. “And I got a Band-Aid instead.”
“And an antiseptic wipe. Please don’t overlook the part where I cleaned the wound on your hand. It’s integral to the story.”
I fist his hair and pull his lips onto mine. “This is integral too.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
His tongue fills my mouth again, and it’s all I can think about. I barely follow his fingers undoing the remaining shirt buttons or pulling my bra down to expose my breasts. Until his mouth closes around a nipple and I’m left gasping for air.
He unzips my pants and slides a hand inside my panties. His finger is cool between my legs. Or maybe I’m overheated because I’ve been imagining this moment since my coworker first pointed out that he was watching me.
“You’re wet.” His lips are back. His voice is husky.
“You noticed.”
He kisses me softly. “I notice everything about you.”
“You always know the right thing to say.”
“Maybe, but this time I mean it.”
Something seems to click inside our bodies then.
Bash’s kisses grow hot and demanding. He tugs my shirt over my shoulders and drags it out from underneath me, unhooking my bra at the same time.
My nipples harden. I try to unfasten his shirt buttons, but my fingers aren’t working properly, and it isn’t happening quickly enough.
So, Bash pulls away. He stands up, removes his shirt, pants, and socks, and tosses them onto the rug by the bed. His erection has created a tent inside his boxers that makes my eyes widen. He tugs my pants over my hips and adds them to the pile of clothes on the floor.
Then, he kneels at the end of the bed at my feet and lies on top of me, supporting his weight on his forearms. He strokes my hair away from my face. “I’ve made an executive decision. We’re going with foreplay.”
“You’re the boss.” I chew my bottom lip, and he tugs it free with his thumb.
“Kiss me, Remy.”
And I do. I kiss him until my head is dizzy from the lack of oxygen, and tiny whimpers escape my lips.
He seems to know the exact moment when I need to come up for air.
He shuffles back down the bed, dragging his fingers down my body and hooking them inside my panties.
If my pussy could talk, she’d be squealing with excitement.
Because almost every steamy scene in every romance novel I’ve ever read begins this way, and I never realized until now how desperately I wanted to be the main character.
I swallow hard as he slides my practical white panties down over my hips. He licks his lips, and I groan out loud.
I expect him to spread my legs wide and bury his face between them. But instead, he straddles my closed legs and licks my mound as if I’m the best dessert on the menu and he wants to savor every mouthful.
He peers at me, eyes dark with want. “Do you trust me, Remy?”
“I don’t know you.”
He doesn’t react to the comment. “You’re here though.”
I am. I’ve never had a one-night stand. Never wanted to. But I want to feel Bash Murray inside me, and I don’t even care about the consequences or the ‘what happens next’. “I trust you.”
“Good girl.”
It sounds so sexy when he says it like that. “I just want you to know that I don’t make a habit of sleeping with—”
“I know.” He shuts me down when his tongue slides between my legs.
Oh. My. God.
He opens my sex with his thumbs, still straddling my legs and trapping me underneath him, and it’s the wildest thing I’ve ever felt.
“Don’t fight it, Remy.”
I didn’t realize that I was until I untense my body and allow the sensation of his tongue between my legs to consume me. The reaction is instantaneous. My orgasm didn’t get the foreplay memo; it’s gatecrashing the party and heading straight for the main event.
My breathing is already too fast and too shallow. I’m way past fighting it, I’m dancing with it, and learning a new rhythm that I never knew existed.
And still, Bash doesn’t stop licking and teasing and sucking. I try to open my legs, and he squeezes them more tightly between his thighs.
He stops licking long enough to say, “I’m the boss, remember?”
“But…” But what? I don’t even know what protest I was trying to make.
Just when I think that my pussy can’t spasm any more than it already has, and my legs are going to twitch him right off the bed, he climbs off me and his tongue is in my mouth, and all I can taste is me.
My fingers entwine with his hair, and I suck his tongue like I’ve been starved of my own juices. Perhaps I have. How can I tell him that it’s the first time I ever tasted myself?
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he says, pulling away, as if I spoke the words out loud.
“Do you taste what I taste?”
“If it tastes like honey, only sweeter, then yes.”
I feel the heat rise in my face, which is crazy when he has already seen me naked, and stuck his tongue between my legs. My orgasm is lingering, wanting more, and it’s obviously steering my thought process now too.
“Is it your turn?” Selfishly, I want him to say no. I’m not sure I have the energy to repay the favor, and my body is aching for more of what he already started.
“Tonight is all about you, baby.”
My legs open of their own accord now that he’s no longer sitting on them. “More, please.”
“Bossy.” He licks the freckles at the corner of my eye. “But I’m here for it.”
He isn’t lying. This time, he grips my thighs and pushes my knees towards my chest, raising my ass above the bed. He buries his face between my legs, and my orgasm rushes straight to the surface to greet him.
Again, and again, and again.
I’ve read all the clichés in romance novels and disregarded them as fiction. But I don’t know which way is up. There are stars spiraling around behind my eyelids. And my body is so limp that moving is beyond the realm of possibilities.
Bash doesn’t stand up to remove his boxers. His erection springs free and slaps between my legs, and my brain experiences a moment of panic.
“Holy cow.” I mean, my experience is undeniably limited, but even I know that logistically, that shouldn’t fit inside me.
He grins. “You still want it?”
“Yes.” I literally can’t take my eyes off it. Another fictional myth proved wrong; two in one night, perhaps I am still dreaming.
“You can take it, Remy.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I have complete faith in you.”
I want to ask why, but I’ve noticed the tattoo on his iliac crest. A symbol. I reach out and trace the never-ending line with my fingertip.
“It’s a Triquetra,” he murmurs. “Just like your freckles.”
“Must be fate.”
“I don’t believe in fate.” He leans over me, grinding his erection against my sex.
I grip his shoulders. “But…?”
“But I’ll make an exception with you, baby.”
He kisses me long and hard, sharing his oxygen with me. I gasp when the head of his shaft nudges its way in, but he strokes my hair and nestles inside me as if it’s where he has always belonged.
“Nice and slow.”
“I don’t want nice and slow.”
I’ve had that before. I don’t want to be reminded of what I had with George. I want to erase all past experiences, wipe the slate clean, and replace them with new memories that I can hold onto in bed at night before I sleep.
“Tell me what you want, Remy.”
“All of it.” Talking during sex is another first for me. I always thought silence was sacred so that our bodies could do the talking. Who knew it could be so goddamned erotic.
“Too vague.”
“I want to take all of you. I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs.”
He grins. “Your wish is my command, baby.”
His lips find my neck while he slides his shaft all the way inside me.
I feel it hit something solid, maybe it’s the bottom of my spine because there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t know it’s there.
I feel my slick lubricating my walls. Feel myself clenching around him, my orgasm waiting in the wings to make a reappearance.
“Ready?” he whispers into my ear and sending shivers down my spine.
“Readier than I’ve ever been.”
My fingernails dig into his shoulders when he rams his shaft inside me. My breathing is shallow. I didn’t think it was possible to feel this full and still be so desperate for more.
“More?” Bash is moving inside me anyway, grinding his shaft into me, breaking through the wall that I’d erected for self-preservation, and somehow setting me free.
“Yes.” A whisper. I’m already his.
I wrap my legs around his back and hold him inside me, matching his rhythm until we’re both panting and sweaty and exhausted. When he finally reaches his climax, I realize that he kept his promise. I can no longer feel my legs.
All I feel is a deep sense of satisfaction and contentment as I close my eyes and snuggle against his chest.