Chapter 23Rose
Chapter 23
Rose
“W ait!” I demanded.
“Wait?” Rafe groaned.
“Yes, wait! Look over there,” I directed. “Don’t you think we need a little more privacy?”
No, we weren’t still at the Hair of the Dog. Nor were we sprinting down the sidewalk toward my house. We’d even made it past the front porch and into the entry hall before we dropped our jackets and started kissing.
No, now we were half-sitting, half-reclining on my velvety-cushiony couch—to be accurate, I was lying at one end with my head on a plush pillow, and Rafe was pressing his not-inconsiderable weight along my definitely flushed self—getting ready to reignite the kissing portion of the evening.
However, we had an audience. Two sets of amber eyes were gazing at us like we held all the answers to the universe—or more likely the keys to the treat safe.
Pirate and Princess had planted their fannies on the other side of the coffee table and were staring us down. No doubt, they expected their nightly walk and the accompanying array of treats.
Rafe looked over, and we groaned in unison—not the sexy kind, but the frustrated kind.
“Rose,” he ordered, pulling off me and standing up, “go upstairs and wait for me on your bed. I’ll take care of the dogs and stick them in my apartment for the evening. Do not take off any of your clothes,” he directed. “I get to do that.”
Bossy much? You’d think the guy had done this for a living. Oh, wait. He had.
I knew I didn’t have much time, so I jumped off the couch and hustled up to my bedroom. I had a couple of things to do before Rafe returned.
Rafe thundered up the stairs and down the hall, stopping abruptly outside the door.
After lighting the candles, I hadn’t been able to catch my breath. My first time in years, and my body had rebelled—face flushing, hands shaking, stomach flip-flopping,
In for a count of five, out for a count of five, in for a count of five…
This exercise had continued for a few minutes until Rafe arrived and got an eyeful of the room—and me.
I liked to prepare in advance—no surprise there! Thanks to all that thinking today, I’d stopped off at home before going to the pub in order to turn up the heat—in more ways than the obvious. Although, I had punched up the thermostat in the upstairs hall—it gets chilly in rainy Portland.
I’d gathered candles of all shapes and sizes to scatter around my bedroom. Next, I’d set up my laptop to play my favorite Elvis love songs.
Finally, I’d tugged off the clothes I’d worn all day at the café, along with my comfortable—yet beyond boring—white bra and granny panties. I’d saved just the thing for this occasion, courtesy of my girl Lauren’s gift shopping spree. After tucking my curvy self into a black lace balconette bra and the matching cheeky panties, I’d thrown on a fresh T-shirt and jeans.
As a final touch before heading off to the pub, I’d left a pair of black pointed-toe stilettos (from the same spree) by the bed.
I’d figured I was ready for Rafe. And by ready, I meant ready .
However, nothing prepared me for the way Rafe looked—and looked at me—when he paused in the doorway to my bedroom.
I’d followed his commands to the letter. I’d gone upstairs—check. I was sitting on the end of my bed—check check . I didn’t take off my T-shirt or jeans—check, check annnd check .
Could it be the fact that I’d exchanged my hot pink sneakers and socks for black five-inch-high stilettos? Or maybe it was the way I was lounging on the bed, leaning back on my elbows, crossing my legs and dangling one stiletto off one foot? Or even the shock of all those candles sizzling the room with their flames?
After all, Elvis was at his seductive best, belting out “Burning Love” in that deep, sultry voice.
Whatever the reason, when I looked at Rafe—arms gripping the doorframe overhead, triceps bulging, T-shirt stretched tight across his chest—and saw the way he was looking at me—eyes hooded over his cobalt stare, heavy brows furrowed in intensity—I questioned whether I was prepared for all the hotness that was him.
So…in for a count of five, out for a count of five, in for a count of five…
I almost stopped breathing when he rumbled, “I see you’ve been busy,” and smiled a gorgeous, full-watt smile.
Instead, I managed to huff out, “You like?”
“I like,” he returned and stalked over to stand in front of me.
Abruptly, Rafe reached behind his neck with his right hand and jerked his T-shirt over his head. He flung it toward the door, toed off his shoes and stepped even closer. Partly in defense and partly in awe, I sat up straight, uncrossed my legs, and found myself face-to-face with the man of my dreams. Literally, my dreams—at least recently.
However, “face-to-face” was not entirely accurate. More like face to…sculpted chest and ridged abs with a good view of the muscular vee disappearing down his low-riding, tight-fitting jeans. Yeah, that was more accurate.
I wanted to rub my hands all over his, well, everywhere, but I looked back up when Rafe said, “Here, let’s lose this.”
He tugged the hem of my T-shirt upward, his knuckles brushing my sides and lingering along my breasts. After a pause, he slid it off the rest of the way and tossed it over his shoulder. On the floor, in the dog bed, over the lampshade. I didn’t know and didn’t care—as long as it didn’t set the place on fire.
I’d closed my eyes at some point. When I opened them, Rafe was leaning over me, thick-lashed eyes glowing in the candlelight. Like they were lit from within. I was close to panting. His chest was flexing with his breaths.
“May I kiss you all over now?” Rafe asked.
I nodded and licked my lips. He glanced down and flashed that blue stare back up to my eyes.
He crowded closer between my legs and trailed his fingertips up my sides again and over the demi-cups of my bra to brush the swells of my breasts. His hands flattened for a moment, palms rubbing my stiff peaks. Suddenly, without any warning, he gripped my shoulders, bent his dark head, and swiped his tongue across first one nipple barely covered by lace and then the other.
I gasped at the same time a hot pulse burst from my breasts to my core.
Rafe pulled his head back and gave a hoarse hum of satisfaction. He slid his hands up my throat to cup my jaw as he leaned down again to lick and kiss between my breasts, that soft hollow between my collarbones and the side of my throat. Without stopping, Rafe wove his fingers through my hair, angled his head and took my mouth in a deep, hot kiss.
I, of course, obliged by tangling my tongue with his.
After a few beats, Rafe broke off our kiss. We stared into each other’s eyes, breathing roughly, for a count of ten or maybe a thousand. Moving his hands under my arms and shifting me further onto the bed, he pressed me gently down on my back. He stood and looked down at my feet, now dangling off the bed, still wearing the stilettos.
Rafe contemplated them, seemingly deep in thought, and said, “Oh, these heels are coming off too…and then going right back on. I’m gonna make you come while you’re wearing them.”
With that, he pulled my stilettos off, one in each hand, and dropped them at the foot of the bed. Next thing I knew, he was leaning over me again, this time to unbutton, unzip and yank off my jeans—all in one motion. Somehow leaving on my damp panties, now riding higher on my cheeks, exposing virtually everything to his view. So I got a little nervous. I closed my knees and started to scoot backward on the bed.
Rafe gripped my knees, pulled them apart and growled, “Stop.”
I froze and then flushed. He reached down, snagged my stilettos and gently replaced them on my feet.
Like I was a sexy Cinderella.
Rafe crawled up over my body and lowered himself on his elbows to bury his face in my neck. Inhaling deeply, he muttered something about my sweet scent. I was trembling so hard, it affected my hearing. He took my mouth again for a luscious kiss before reaching to lift my left breast out of its lace cup. He thumbed my beaded nub twice and bent down to lick and suck it. He treated my right breast the same, so that both were wet and aching.
I arched my back as Rafe continued his journey downward, stopping to nuzzle my belly and circle his tongue in my belly button. When he reached the top lace edge of my cheeky panties, he sat back on his knees and placed a hot hand on each of my thighs. Spreading them wider, holding them firmly apart. He leaned in and planted wet kisses on the insides of my thighs…so close. He sat back again, unzipped his jeans and pulled out his hard length. No briefs—he’d gone commando.
By this time, I was rolling through shudders and gripping the sheets on either side of my body. An earthy mix of sea salt, musk, sweat and—I don’t know, lust?—filled the air.
Rafe stroked his length hard while staring at my core.
“Rose,” he let out, like it pained him.
“Right here, Rafe,” I managed to groan.
“Rose, unless you want me to destroy those pretty panties, push them to one side so I can get at you.”
I stopped my frantic sheet-grabbing action and reached over to hold my panties to one side. He made an inarticulate sound and kept pulling on his cock, looking his fill.
After a few seconds, he dipped down to run the flat of his tongue all the way up my seam. He thrusted his tongue into my core, alternating with sucking my clit. His pulsing rhythm had me tossing my head back and forth, eyes closed.
I’d let go of my panties by that time. Rafe had curled one or three fingers into my core, reaching deep, finding that particularly sensitive spot. I closed my thighs around his head, felt his stubble rubbing me raw—beard burn for real this time—and shot off like a rocket.
In the midst of my bliss, with all that warmth gushing out of me, Rafe ramped up his licking and sucking and kissing to keep up.
Finally, finally, I could catch my breath. Yes, I was still hot and flushed all over, but at least my heartbeats were slowing down to what passed for normal. When I parted my eyes just the tiniest sliver, Rafe was sitting back on his knees again, swiping the back of one hand across his lips. He met my hazy gaze and gave me the most delectable closed-mouth smile ever.
Did he need to know that was my first all-natural, all-man-induced orgasm in, like, forever? Oh no, there were some things that made me feel too vulnerable to share.
But was I going to return the favor? Oh, yes. Especially when his hard, velvety length looked so… appetizing.
I think I surprised Rafe when I suddenly pulled my legs in, turned to my side and pushed myself up on my knees to face him. Stilettos still fitted to my feet.
I gripped his shoulders to steady myself and announced, “Turnabout’s fair play.”