Chapter 31 James
James
From the first moment Georgie sweeps into the house, I can tell something is weighing heavily on her mind. “Want to talk about it?”
She jerks her head up from her phone, as if she hadn’t even noticed I was in the living room watching television.
“Talk about what?” Georgie stammers, her eyes wild.
“Whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
She slips her phone—her old phone, I notice—into her purse and denies there’s anything wrong, which I don’t believe for a second, but I choose not to press her. Instead, I suggest another old favorite way of passing the time.
“Want to play a couple of rounds of poker?”
Before she can beg off, I stand and grab her arm, pulling her to the kitchen table and pushing her down into one of the chairs.
Then I grab a couple of beers and the deck of cards.
After popping the top off a bottle, I slide a beer over to her.
I’ve never seen Georgie drink since she’s breastfeeding, but tonight, she looks like she may need a drink or two to help her unwind.
And with the breast pump, she can indulge and then pump and dump.
“Why don’t you relax tonight, and I’ll get up with Weston. He’ll survive one night only having bottles.”
“Really?” Georgie asks, her voice infused with hope, which makes me laugh but also makes me feel like an inconsiderate asshole for never offering it before.
“Yeah, really.”
She nods, a smile tilting the corners of her lips up. “Okay, then. Thanks, James.”
She’s so damn pretty. Her blue eyes glittering, that wide smile pulling on her pillowy pink lips, the apples of her cheeks dusted with freckles. So. Damn. Pretty.
Shuffling the cards between my fingers, I taunt, “Ready to lose, darlin’?”
“In your dreams, Harper. You’re going down tonight.”
In my dreams, indeed. I’d love to go down on Georgie again tonight, but given how skittish she is, I doubt that’s on the menu.
Realizing her accidental double entendre, her cheeks flush, and she takes a long swallow of her beer, draining nearly half of it.
I smirk and unbutton the shirt buttons at my wrists, rolling up the sleeves.
More than once, I’ve caught Georgie staring at my forearms, so I may as well distract her to help my odds of winning.
But when that doesn’t work and I lose the first hand of Texas Hold ‘Em, I unbutton my shirt, claiming that it’s getting a little warm in the kitchen, to reveal my chest.
Georgie watches my fingers work the buttons with avid fascination as she sips her beer.
She narrows her eyes. “Playing dirty, I see.”
“Oh, I’ll play as dirty as you want, darlin’.”
When the second round doesn’t go my way either, I slip off my shirt and toss it over the back of my chair.
“Are we playing strip poker now?” She says, aiming for casual but missing it completely when she doesn’t remove her molten eyes from my bare chest.
“Not a bad idea. I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
“I—I…” Flustered, she swallows roughly as I lift my beer bottle to my lips. Getting herself together, she retorts belatedly, “Well, if I’d known that was on the agenda for tonight, I would have worn more clothing.”
She is at a disadvantage since she’s still wearing her pink and white uniform dress from work. She loses one hand, and she’ll be in her underwear.
“I’ve already evened the score by taking off my shirt.”
Georgie scoffs. “You didn’t even the score, James! You lost, so you had to take it off.”
I’m not sure when we shifted from joking about it to actually agreeing to play strip poker, but I’m thrilled with the turn of events.
“I’ll take off something else then, if you’d like.”
Flummoxed, she opens and closes her mouth a few times, but no words come out.
Taking pity on her, I deal the next hand. And honestly, I can’t decide whether I want to win or lose, because it feels like I’m winning either way.
In the end, I throw the hand, figuring Georgie will feel more at ease losing if I’m already nearly naked. By the time the third hand wraps up, she’s almost finished her second beer, and her bluster and bravado are coming back in full force.
“Off with your pants, James!” Georgie cackles, looking delighted as I stand and strip off my jeans, leaving me in only a tight pair of black boxer briefs.
Which do nothing to hide the outline of my half-hard dick.
When I sit back down, Georgie fans her face.
“Feeling a little hot?” I ask just to watch her squirm in her seat.
Hot and bothered is more like it.
This time after I deal, I play my hand well. Getting lucky with the community cards, I string together a straight to Georgie’s pair of kings.
Sitting back in my chair, I raise a brow in her direction, waiting to see what she’s going to do. Remove her dress or chicken out and take off her boots.
The air between us buzzes with an electrifying anticipation. Georgie sinks her teeth into her plush bottom lip, and I withstand the urge to brush my thumb over it, popping it free. Because once I touch her, I won’t be able to stop. So, I sit back in my chair, waiting for her next move.
She surprises me when she snatches my beer off the table and chugs it.
Then she stands and, slowly, one button at a time, begins easing her dress open in a deliberate striptease.
I lean forward, unable to look away as each freed button reveals more of her skin: her neck, her décolletage, the curve of her cleavage, then the soft line of her abdomen.
By the time she reaches the button at the apex of her thighs, my mouth is dry.
Without a thought in my head, I stand and squat in front of her, brushing her fingers aside and igniting a spark when our skin touches. “Let me,” I rasp.
Her inhalation is loud enough for me to hear. I glance up. “Is this okay?”
She nods, her head movements a little shaky. My fingers make quick work of the remaining few buttons. Clasping the back of her legs, I rub my hands up and down the silky skin of her thighs.
My voice dropping by an octave, I murmur, “I want to bury my face between your thighs and never come up for air, and then I want to fuck you so good that you feel me for days.”
“James,” she whispers with unasked questions in her eyes.
“I want you, Georgie. But only if you want me, too.” I look at her, awaiting her reaction. When she stays quiet, I drop back onto my heels, my heart sinking. “You’ve been drinking. We probably shouldn’t do this, anyway.”
But as I pull away, she grabs my arm. “No. No, James. I want this. I want this so badly it scares me.”
“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” And then I say the words that I’ve been telling her over the past week, the chorus to our love song. “I want you, Georgie. I want us. But I’m willing to wait until you believe me.”
With words so soft that they feel like silk, she says, “I believe you.”
“You sure?”
She breathes out a “yes” that’s a half-moan, half-whisper.
I stand, my fingers trailing up her sides, tracing the lines of her curvy body. When I reach her shoulders, I slip her dress down her arms, watching as it pools on the floor, leaving her clad in a sheer bra, cotton boy shorts, and her pink cowboy boots.
Those fucking boots.
My dick goes from half-mast to full mast in two nanoseconds.
My hand clasps the back of her neck, kneading her muscles. I bring my forehead to hers, breathing her in.
She lifts onto her tiptoes and crushes her lips to mine. My arm snakes around her back, pulling her body tight to mine as I deepen the kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Sliding my hand down to her ass, I grip her flesh, loving the way she feels.
Georgie moans and rubs her pelvis against my dick. Moving her lips against mine, she whispers, “God, I need this, James. Make me feel good again. Please.”
It’s her broken, pleading please that brings me to my knees.
I push her back until her ass hits the edge of the kitchen table.
With ease, I lift her onto the table. I can tell she’s surprised by my ability to manhandle her, but she shouldn’t be.
She thinks she’s too heavy, but she isn’t, not for me.
She’s the perfect fucking size and I love the gentleness of her curves, the thickness of her thighs, the way her ass bounces when she walks.
And don’t get me started on her glorious tits.
Georgie is all woman, like the feminine ideals depicted in priceless works of art from centuries ago, not like the hard and angular, stick-thin models airbrushed to perfection on today’s magazine covers.
I’ve shared my bed with quite a few women who fit that description, and I’ve never felt the level of attraction for any of them that I do for Georgie.
Reaching behind her, I undo her bra, and her breasts, full and heavy, spring free.
With my tongue, I lightly trace the outline of her areolas before pulling her nipple into my mouth.
Georgie scrapes her fingers through my scalp.
She whimpers when I squeeze her other breast, flicking my thumb across the rosy nipple.
“Lay back, baby.” She does, but she props herself up on her elbows, watching me as I drop to my knees and slide her panties down her legs. “The boots stay on.”
“Bossy,” she smiles.
Coasting my fingers up her legs, I spread her legs further apart and my gaze falls to her glistening pink pussy.
And then I feast, burying my face between her legs like a man starved.
With the flat of my tongue, I lick her slit, spreading her juices before circling her clit with the tip of my tongue.
She tastes as sweet as honey with a scent of earthy musk, and her unique flavor is as addictive as fuck.
Alternating between soft strokes and sucking on her little bundle of nerves, I bring her to the edge of an orgasm before backing off.
When I move my mouth to kiss the skin of her inner thighs, she groans, begging me for more. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
My first and second fingers slide into her drenched channel with ease.
Curving my fingers upward in a come-hither motion, my fingertips massage her G-spot as I continue licking and sucking on her clit.
Georgie’s sounds grow louder, and when I place my free hand atop her pubic bone and gently push down, she comes almost instantly.
Her back arches off the table, and her thighs press together around my head as she cries out my name.
I keep licking, coaxing her through the orgasm until she stops shuddering.
“Good girl, you remembered to say my name when you came,” I growl with a predatory grin.
“Holy shit, James,” she pants. “That felt amazing.”
Scraping my five o’clock shadow across her skin, I murmur, “Just wait until you feel my cock. This time, I’m not letting you run away from me.”
Her breath sputters, and a shiver trembles down her spine at my proclamation.
Fuck, I want her so badly.