Chapter 4
LINCOLN
Jules shucks her key out of the deadbolt and steps through the darkened doorway. I bump right into her from behind when she abruptly bends over to loosen the laces of her boots.
We both go stumbling forward, legs tangling. She squeals and her arms flail to find purchase.
“Ope! Shit. Sorry.” Thankfully, I manage to grab her hips before she flies headfirst through the drywall.
Christ. I’m overeager and it’s showing. In my defense, it’s been a decade since I’ve been with a new woman, and I’m starving to sink balls-deep into this one.
I want her. I want her so bad.
But admitting that out loud would only expose me as the animal I am. So I keep my mouth shut.
Jules takes my awkwardness in stride, straightening up and spinning around in my arms. She brushes her sweet, snarky mouth over mine. “No worries, Casanova. You’re about to make it up to me. Big time.”
Groaning at the softness of her lips, I lean into the kiss, ready to take things further. The air around us instantly burns a hundred degrees hotter and a bead of sweat glides down my spine.
I stumble forward again, chasing Jules’s lips when she suddenly pulls away and flicks on a light switch.
Stark white light fills the shoebox-sized entranceway.
I see a few coats hung from a hook in the corner.
A full-length mirror mounted on a wall. A photograph of Jules’s eclectic friend group, my mother’s pretty face grinning at me from the wooden picture frame.
I look away.
I love my mom. But with the things I’m planning to do to Jules tonight, the woman who gave birth to me is the last person I want to be thinking about right now.
I watch Jules take two footsteps, then she’s in the kitchen, tossing her keychain and leather jacket on the outdated dinner table. Two more footsteps and she’s filling an extra-tall plastic cup at the sink.
The space is small, with a rusty white refrigerator, an equally rusty white stove, and a two-in-one washer-dryer combo tucked underneath a peeling countertop. The place is kind of cozy, but I’m convinced that this has got to be the tiniest single dwelling house in all of Fairy Bush.
“Water?” Jules asks, lifting a chipped coffee mug in my direction.
I refuse the offer with a shake of my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
She shrugs. “Your call. I don’t know about you, but suddenly, I’m parched.”
Cup gripped in both hands, Jules downs a few long glugs of water, watching intently as I step out of my shoes and shrug out of my coat, hanging it on the hook near the door.
I see the appreciative way her eyes coast over my shoulders and across the expanse of my chest.
“Holy biceps…” she mutters into her cup.
I light up from the inside. The way she looks at me makes me feel unreasonably good about myself. She sets her cup on the counter and bites down on the corner of her lip. For a moment, we just stand there, checking each other out.
Damn—she’s hot.
Fingers clenching the countertop beside her, chin tilted downward, she watches me from under her eyelashes, not making a move toward me.
A realization dawns on me—she’s nervous.
The bold, mouthy, sass-machine Jules is nervous.
Because of me.
I like the ego boost that gives me. A little too much.
I take two footsteps into the kitchen. Two more steps over to where she’s leaned against the sink. Then, I’m looming over her, taking advantage of the four or five inches in height I have on her.
She lifts her head slightly, pupils dilated inside those mystical brown pools. Typically, this woman has sharp fangs and a big bark. But now that we’re alone at her place, she’s all shy smile and puppy dog eyes.
This power I have over her is intoxicating. But I’ve noticed that her guilty conscience has been flickering on and off since I kissed her at the housewarming party. I need to make sure she’s fully on-board with this.
I cage her in, letting my hands cover hers where they’re still gripping the edge of the counter. “Having second thoughts?” I ask, noting the hungry tone in my own voice.
She lifts her chin higher, defiant as always. “Never.”
I drag my thumb along the curve of her juicy bottom lip and observe the goosebumps that rise along her neck. “Not too late to back out.”
The little vixen bites my thumb. “Not too late to quit yapping my ear off and make me come all over your fingers.”
I puff out an involuntary laugh. My arms wrap around her waist, jerking her body up against me right as she’s taking another sip from her cup. “Gosh—I can’t wait to fill that sassy mouth with my cum.”
She chokes on her water and breaks out coughing. Her eyebrow quirks upward. “Mr. Button-Up…” she scolds, pushing me off of her and turning to refill her cup. “What a dirty mouth on you. Come. Let’s go put it to work.” She grabs my wrist in one hand and her water in the other hand.
Eight footsteps. That’s how many steps it takes to get us past the tiny, open-concept living room and down the short hallway to the entrance to Jules’s even tinier bedroom.
Striding up behind her, I snatch the water out of her hand, set it on the rickety bedside table and spin her around to face me. Before one more word can come out of that sassy mouth, I lean down and cover it with mine.
I need to touch her. All over. To get lost in the softness of her body.
My hands start at her waist, slipping under the hem of her skimpy T-shirt. My fingers travel upward until I’m cupping her breasts in my hands, squeezing them, flicking her pebbled nipples.
Then somehow, my necktie is on the floor and Jules has worked her hand down inside my pants. I don’t even notice that my slacks are around my knees until I feel her soft palm curl around my throbbing rod.
“Christ—you’re huge…” she groans, stroking the length, up and down.
“Nine inches and a quarter, thank you very much,” I boast, puffing up with male pride.
“Ooh! Nine and a quarter…” She giggles. “Every millimeter counts, huh?”
“I’m about to show you that it does,” I promise her.
Her thumb swipes through my precum, rubbing the wetness around the crown. At the feel of her gentle touch, I’m ready to come all over myself.
Fuck—I’ve needed this. I’ve needed a beautiful woman’s hands on my body.
I’ve been so damn stressed lately, dealing with all the changes in my life. I’ve played my role as a father, a brother, a businessman. I’ve been everything for everybody except me. But the way Jules touches me reminds me that I’m a man.
A man who’s harder than the New York bar exam right now. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off.
“I need to make you come. Now.”
She hums her assent into my mouth, a deep, greedy sound that sends shockwaves to my crotch. Breaking the kiss, she yanks her shirt over her head, tossing it somewhere in the darkness of the bedroom.
Grabbing my wrists, Jules guides my fingers to the button of her jeans. I take that as an invitation, unfastening the clasp and tugging down the zipper. Then, I push her down onto the double bed and the iron frame squeaks beneath her.
I switch on the bedside lamp as she squirms into the middle of the mattress. While I get rid of my shirt, I take a moment to admire her there. Looking so perfect, laying on a ratty comforter and a mountain of pillows with mismatched pillowcases.
“God, you’re so hot,” I hear myself mutter as I finally kick my pants off to the floor.
The compliment goes straight to her already inflated ego. “I know, right? Lucky you, getting to touch me tonight.”
I’m too mesmerized to argue with her. In fact, I wholeheartedly agree with her statement. “Yeah. Lucky me.”
Gripping the waistband of her jeans, I drop to my knees on the woven burlap carpet and start tugging at the denim. It takes some hard manual labor to peel the tight jeans down those long, feminine thighs, but Jules’s nearly-naked body is the payoff. So it’s definitely worth it.
She’s so beautiful. Small, heaving breasts covered in blue floral lace. Pale, goosebump-covered legs with a dragon tattooed along the inside of her left thigh. Soft stomach with an emerald green gemstone hanging from her hollow belly button indent. Jules has an innie.
I dip my head, kissing a path from the tail of the dragon all the way to its snarling mouth.
When I try to kiss higher, Jules coyly crosses one knee over the other. I glance up at her.
“I wasn’t exactly planning on bringing someone home with me tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve shaved…down there,” she explains.
Gripping her soft thighs, I pull them wide apart. Dark curls peek around the elastic edges of her red panties. I grin. “Don’t worry. I can handle a little bush. I might need a toothpick afterwards, but that’s just fine.” I dramatically lick my tongue across my front teeth.
A booming laugh erupts from her chest.
I like that sound. I wanna hear it again.
“Pretty sure I’ve got some floss in my car, too,” I continue teasing her.
She smacks me in the head with a pillow. Her laughter dies abruptly when I drag her ass to the edge of the mattress and cover her pussy with my open mouth.
“Fuuccckk…” she whispers, frantically reaching for the sides of her panties just as I reach for them too. Together, we tug and tear the underwear down her legs until they’re discarded on the floor.
Her dark curls frame her pussy like a pretty photograph. Between her thighs, she’s pink and perfect and dripping wet.
“Fuuccckk…” I echo, dragging two digits through her slit and marveling at the slick juices that cling to my fingertips.
I suck my fingers clean and the earthy taste drives me so wild that I lose all self-control.
My mouth covers her pussy again. My tongue strokes through her folds. My teeth graze over her clit.
I suck.
I lick.
I play.
I swallow every drop that leaks onto my tongue.
Jules rises up onto her elbows, staring down at me, her mouth hanging open, her eyes drunk with lust. She swipes my matted hair off of my sweaty forehead. The gesture feels surprisingly…nice.
“Jeez, mister…” she whispers breathlessly. “You’re really good at this.”