Chapter 46
Hesitation consumes me. Not because Rhett said something wrong, but maybe because he said everything right.
I don’t want to be another box checked. I don’t want to be just another girl who looks past what I’ve always known to be true, thinking this time will be different and then end up being the one with a broken heart. But my doubts don’t just linger there.
Rhett’s tender stare matches his words. Like a mirror to his soul, he doesn’t have to say anything for me to know his truth.
What I’m feeling has me shaken, and I think it’s because I haven’t ever felt it before.
My heart thumps wildly in my chest and the weight of his admission hits me like a ton of bricks.
I’m used to a gut feeling directing my actions.
Fight or flight taking place without me having to consider the path.
But this is different. Almost like I want to convince myself to retreat to safety, but finding safety within the very thing I’m trying to retreat from.
Why protect myself when it comes to something I want with my entire chest?
Why not throw caution to the wind, ignore the warnings, and just be a little crazy?
That’s what I’ve always wished for anyways, a love that has no bounds, that crosses all the red tape.
One where we always find our way back to one another.
And even if it never turns to love, it’s the closest I’ve ever been.
I want this. I want him.
Leaning into Rhett, I close my eyes once our lips meet. His hands glide back to my ass, pulling me forward on the bench and closer to him. It reminds me of the first time he kissed me. Passion filling the minimal gaps between us.
Our lips pull apart and I whisper, “I hope you didn’t forget that text I sent earlier.”
Rhett’s body tilts backward, and I open my eyes to see a mischievous stare lighting up his handsome features. “Yeah, how could I forget? Ya mixed the word revenge up with ravish.” He takes in my costume. “Ya didn’t disappoint with this one, Angel, but I’d be happy to see half of it on the floor.”
“Is that so? What pieces are staying?”
“Whatever my Angel wants. But if I’m bein’ choosy, I’d say the wings and the heels are the most important. The dress can stay or go, and I know I can work around the underwear.” He winks at me and I laugh, scooting off the bench and into him.
I shimmy out of the same white lace thong I sent him a picture of earlier. He bends down to help me out of it, while I keep my heels on. Wrapping his arms around me, he lifts me back on the potting bench, kissing me with force.
Our tongues meet but it feels different.
This time it’s more. In a room surrounded by angels, the sweet floral scent of the flowers swarm my senses.
My fingers fumble over his belt as I try to unbuckle it.
I want more of him. He has too many clothes on.
Too many layers between his skin and mine.
I want to revel in every inch of his tan skin, feel his strong arms around me and feel his weight lean on me.
Forcing my hand down his pants, I embrace his cock. The soft velvet touch of his skin beneath my fingers excites me, sparking desire low in my core. And the idea of him entering me doubles that excitement. I glide my hand up and down, stroking him hard and slow, savoring each pass.
I want him. All of him.
I push his chest and turn him so he now leans against the potting bench I previously sat on.
Urging him to remove his shirt, I kiss his neck, periodically sucking and biting him as I make my way to his abs and then the elastic of his boxers.
Tugging down his underwear, I tease a path along his thighs making sure my breath and lips both graze his cock.
His dick is hard as I glide my wet tongue on its surface.
Tracing every ridge back and forth, but not allowing him all the way in.
Looking up from my place on the floor, our eyes meet.
Keeping my stare locked with his, I guide him past my lips.
I slowly bob my head forward, my mouth not only filling with his size, but also my need for him.
Pulling back, I trace the tip of his shaft, and he lets out a soft groan as he glides his hand up my cheek and into my hair.
I break the focus we have on one another so I can take in the scene before me.
If our relationship has proven anything, it’s that we both like a challenge and as he stands before me, the size of him alone is exactly that.
Sliding him deeper into my mouth, it takes little to no effort for him to find the back of my throat.
I love the pressure, I love the control.
I enjoy every inch of him, my lips floating up and down his shaft, sucking just enough to leave him begging for more.
His fingers weave tighter within my hair, but he doesn’t tug, he only follows the motion I set, and for some reason that disappoints me.
I pull away from him, halting hushed moans instantly.
“Listen, Casanova, I genuinely like that you’re a gentleman, but right now is not the time or place.
Fuck me like you mean it. Whether it’s my mouth or my pussy, I want to feel like you take your title seriously. ”
His lips tug from confusion up into a smile and he leans forward. “Think ya might’ve put on the wrong costume today, baby. But I’ll be glad to take ya exactly how ya want.”
His fingers grasp my hair a bit tighter, his other hand sliding around my neck.
His grip is firm, assertive, but not unkind as he pulls me up toward him.
Our lips crash back into each other and I reach for his cock, steadily stroking it again.
I long to be closer to him, to have him in me now rather than later, but I want to savor this.
He releases my hair, his other hand still remaining firmly wrapped around my neck as the other finds itself beneath the hem of my dress.
He caresses the inside of my thigh, lowering his pointer and middle finger toward my core.
I’m so wet for him; my body practically shakes with need.
The answering growl of approval that passes his lips as he grinds against me only drives my desire more.
I let out a moan, hoping, praying, it will encourage him to move faster. As if in answer, he adjusts his grip on my neck, pulling me into his kiss as he bites my lip and then down toward my collarbone.
“Yes.” I moan. “More.” His fingers move inside me, harder, deeper, drenched with my need.
Fuck. Each kiss, each bite, every stroke of his hand is enough to push me toward the edge. I rock my body forward as he slips a third finger inside. The glorious pressure forces another breathy moan from my lips.
But still, I want more. I want everything he has left to give.
“Fuck me, Casanova,” I beg. I want to feel him inside me, to be close to him.
He turns me around, bending me over the vacant portion of the potting bench and enters me, filling me with his cock. I groan out his name as I stretch over him. Each pump feels more amazing than the last until he spits on his fingers, dipping his hand around me to caress my clit.
Yes...Fuck yes. My heart quickens as his fingers circle over the most sensitive part of me, his cock pumping in and out in a smooth rhythm.
I lean back into him, running my arm along his neck, before lacing my fingers through his shaggy blonde hair.
And as if I couldn’t be any more turned on, he proves me wrong, sucking and biting my neck harder and harder. Leaving a mark on what is his.
Increasing the pressure and speed of not only his fingers, but also his thrusts, he leans in toward me and whispers, “You’re so tight. It’s like your pussy was only made for me.”
He’s right, I’ve never felt this full, never been this wet for anyone. And yet I want to be filled with the proof of his need. I want it to be dripping down my leg.
“Harder, Casanova,” I grit out, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Don’t treat me like a lady.”
He slows his pumps. “Careful with those words, Angel,” he whispers as he bites my shoulder. “I want to savor you.”
I grind my hips backward, taking control of the rhythm as I place my free hand atop his, forcing even more pressure on my clit. With every pump of his cock, I’m brought closer and closer to the edge.
I lean my head back further, opening my eyes to look into his. He kisses my lips, before gazing back at me.
“Come with me baby. Fill my pussy.” My words come out in a sultry whisper and I’m met with his warmth spilling in me as I scream his name.