Twenty-Eight
Wearing the smile she loves best, Wes tilts up her chin. “Did you say you’re so attracted to me that I take your breath away?”
Surprised, she lets out a gasping laugh and tries to withdraw from him. With quick reflexes, he snatches her fingers and presses them to his lips. They tingle at his touch.
“That is not what I said. You’re so arrogant—”
He yanks her forward, dragging his mouth over hers once more. It’s fast and messy, and she reacts with equal enthusiasm. His hands slide down to curve around her breasts, her waist, her hips, memorizing her shape. One hand slides under her sweater, his fingers already weaving fire into her skin.
When he deepens the kiss, tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, she drags her fingers down to the waistband of his jeans and palms him, his groan sending a rush of heat straight through her.
“Fuck, Charlie,” he hisses. Not a moment later, he grabs her ass and lifts her, and she wraps her legs around his waist. His mouth finds her neck, sucking on the spot that makes her moan.
“Bedroom,” she gasps.
Shoving open her door, he pauses long enough to stare at the stacks of brochures, flyers, diagrams, and other expo paraphernalia littered across her floor in what she calls organized chaos.
“Redecorating, I see,” he murmurs.
“I’ve been busy!” she argues.
“I know you have. Am I going to ruin anything?”
“Just be careful where you step.”
He murmurs in agreement and kicks her bedroom door shut before tossing her unceremoniously onto the bed.
She bounces, laughing, before his delicious weight settles atop her. Desperate for his skin, she scrabbles at his shirt, tugging it free. When he groans, she swallows it hungrily. He slows his movements, his lips softer, exploring her jaw, her neck, melting every part of her.
“Undress me,” she gasps, yanking off his shirt and throwing it across the room.
His laugh makes another surge of desire race through her veins. “So impatient.” He wraps his fingers around her wrists, pinning them above her head. “I want to take my time with you.”
After removing her shirt, he drags down her bra, exposing the swell of her breasts. His hands explore her without hesitation. When he struggles with the clasp, she teases, “Need help?”
He slips it off, shooting her a wicked grin. “Brat.” His thumb skates across her nipple, and she moans as his teeth nip her lower lip.
“Years, Rogers,” he whispers. “We could have been doing this for years.”
She’s too distracted by his mouth to provide an affirmation. Arching against him, she feels how hard he is, needs to feel all of him.
He pulls away, hovering above her, his hair falling over his forehead in shambles. Her face heats under his discerning stare.
“What?”
He shakes his head, the hungry look in his eyes darkening. “You. You’re just so—”
She drags him into another kiss, and his fingers tangle in her wild, unbound curls.
Her hands explore the cords of muscle across his broad shoulders, his biceps, his torso, the deep V of his obliques where they disappear into the waistband of his jeans.
Her hands roam freely, enjoying the way he shivers as he holds himself above her.
Amusement mixes with the desire in his face.
Charlie retracts her hands when she catches him observing her. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”
He chuckles into her hair. “Touch all you want.”
With their tongues and hands, they explore every inch of each other that they’d yet to see.
His mouth traces a path down her body, whispering secrets against her skin, admiration in every touch and caress.
He fumbles with the buttons on her jeans, the zipper snagging on the denim, and she can’t contain her laugh when he curses the creators of women’s pants.
The legs get caught around her ankles, and he stands to yank them off, the frustrated look on his face so endearing, Charlie bites her lip to prevent a bubble of hysterical giggles from bursting forth.
“Not a word,” he growls, his voice shooting another coil of heat through her. She can’t speak anyway, because he presses his lips to the inside of her knee, then drags his mouth up her inner thigh.
She is combusting under his touch, feels she might die from it, and it’s all she can do not to completely fall apart.
When he reaches her center, he holds her gaze as he drags his nose over the thin material still covering her.
“Oh god—” She bucks her hips against him, going momentarily mute when he slips his fingers under the band, seeking. Finding her ready, he brushes her clit.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs before slipping one finger inside her.
“Fuck,” she whines, but the quirk of his lips tells her he knows what he’s doing, and it’s very intentional. “Please.”
“And so needy, aren’t you?” He removes her underwear before returning his fingers to her clit, circling it again before he dips one finger, then a second one inside.
“Wes,” she rasps, rolling her hips.
“Shh.” He kisses her, swallowing her moan with his mouth. “Trust me?”
She nods. His fingers slide in and out of her slowly while his thumb traces that small bundle of nerves. The pressure builds higher and higher, and he seems to relish drawing moans of pleasure from her lips.
“Just like that, Rogers,” he says in her ear. “I want to hear you.”
She’s trembling, gasping. “Now, Wes, I’m ready. I want you now.”
He smiles against her skin. “You think so?” At the wicked amusement in his words, she grows wetter, but his fingers still move at an agonizingly slow pace. “Can you come for me first?”
She whines, a desperate, needy sound, and he gently bites the inside of her thigh before he begins to suck on her clit, releasing a small hum that sends an electric vibration zipping all the way down to her toes.
“I think you can, sweetheart.” He holds down her hips with one hand. “You’re so pretty when you come.”
No longer in control, she’s wanton with desire, especially when he finally gives her what she wants, his fingers moving faster. He praises her, alternating between telling her how beautiful she looks and laving her clit with his tongue.
Charlie soars higher and higher before she leaps, shattering over the edge in a burst of white-hot pleasure.
When she opens her eyes, his lips caress her navel, her hip bone, his hands massaging her breasts.
Eyes never leaving hers, he removes his jeans and briefs in one go, wrapping a hand around his freed cock.
Climbing once more onto the bed, he props himself against the headboard, pumping himself slowly.
She’s breathless at his beauty.
“Come here,” he says.
She kneels on the mattress, entirely naked. At his words—his command—she crawls to him and straddles his lap. His hands fall to her hips, and she feels his hard cock against her lower belly. He groans at the contact.
He kisses her again, soft and tender, slowing them down. She’s grateful, allowing him to set the pace. His fingers dance up and down her spine, the delicious sensation of his rough callouses sliding over her skin eliciting a shiver.
She pulls back and gives him a small smile. “I’m nervous.”
He cups her face, tucking a curl behind her ear. “That’s okay. Are you sure—”
She covers his mouth with her palm. “Wesley Quinn, if you ask me if I’m sure I want to have sex with you while I’m naked on top of you and you just made me come, I will murder you and blame it on Theo.”
He grins, and when she removes her hand, he nips her shoulder, her breast, his hands curving around her ass before he flips her onto her back again.
“God, Charlie, you’re so fucking beautiful.
” Taking her hand, he wraps it around him, another molten coil of heat erupting through her at his groan.
Squeezing her fingers a little tighter around his length the way she knows he likes, she strokes him, slow and deliberate, listening to his breathing growing more uneven.
He whispers her name, sucking on her neck, telling her she’s so good.
Pulling back, he searches her eyes, tracing her lips with his thumb. “Do you have condoms here?”
She nods. “Bedside table.”
He pulls out the box she bought months ago on a whim, just to see what it felt like to purchase them in public. He retrieves one, tears open the package, and slides it down his cock.
Kissing her gently, he runs his palms down the length of her body, flaring over her hips. His fingers find her clit, find her slick and ready, and she writhes against him.
“Fuck. Please, Wes. Now.”
Positioning himself over her, he hitches one of her legs against his hip, guiding his cock into her opening. She feels herself stretch around him, and she gasps. He moves slowly, trembling, pausing at her whimper, waiting for her to settle.
“Good?” he whispers.
She nods. “More, please.”
Pushing deeper, he groans, dropping his head onto her shoulder, and something sharp releases.
She knew that there might be pain but sometimes there isn’t.
She knows that there might be blood but sometimes there isn’t.
Everyone’s first time is different, and it’s often not like society wants you to believe it will be.
This is hers, and she wants nothing more than to be with him right now.
“You okay?” He kisses her temple.
She nods. “Just a bit tight—”
He keeps going, kissing her, whispering words of affection, desire, telling her how perfect she is. His teeth bite his very kissable bottom lip, and he slides the rest of the way in until he’s fully seated inside her. She gasps at the incredible, delicious sensation of fullness.
“Okay?”
She nods, gasping. “Please move. I want—”
He groans into her shoulder, thrusting deep.
She runs her fingers up his strong back, muscles flexing and moving under his skin.
Instinctively, she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, feeling him move deeper, his cock dragging against her walls.
As she nips a path from his ear to his collarbone, he moans at how good she feels, whispering her name over and over.
Involuntary noises of pleasure spill from her mouth, sounds she never knew were inside her.
She couldn’t have imagined he would feel like this.
She groans, the heat in her core building again. “Oh my god.” She pleads for him to move faster, to meet the impossible flame threatening to consume them both. Her lips crash into his as they swallow each other’s sharp, breathy moans.
His arms tighten around her, his mouth sucking on her pulse point. He whispers beautiful and perfect, driving his hips faster. The sensation is so exquisite, she cries out his name, feels him quicken his pace even more, his muscles tensing.
“Oh god, oh fuck Charlie,” he moans before he comes completely undone.
They lie in silence for a few moments. She runs a lazy hand down his back, his weight divine and comforting.
Lifting his head, he flashes a lazy, satisfied smile. “You okay?”
She kisses him instead of responding. She winces slightly when he pulls out, and his hands flex on her waist before sliding over her hips. When his fingers roll over her sensitive clit, still slick with arousal, she immediately feels how close she is again.
“Oh—”
“You can do it, Rogers,” he murmurs against her lips, his fingers moving faster. “Give me one more.”
He builds her higher than before, but this one comes fast. With a cry, she falls, shuddering and writhing, gripping his biceps hard enough to leave marks.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers, dragging his mouth over her shoulder, her collarbone, tracing circles over her hip as her breathing slows.
Gripping his messy hair, she pulls his face to meet hers while his fingers twine into her thoroughly tangled curls.
Rolling her toward him, Wes tucks her against his chest, and the air around them shifts, molecules rearranging themselves into a new formation, one built on comfort and contentment.