Chapter 9 #2
“Lucky guess.” He grins. “So what was it? You miss me that bad, or just wanted to check if I was still breathing?”
“You’re such an ass,” I mutter, tugging at my foot.
He doesn’t let go. His grip is firm but easy, thumb stroking just above my ankle bone. “A stalker, then. I knew it.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, hiding my face in my hands. “You’re never going to let me live this down.”
“Not a chance,” he laughs. “But for the record, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do was text.”
“I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” He leans forward, tone dropping an octave. “Didn’t want to? Or didn’t think I’d open the door?”
I peek through my fingers, heart pounding faster than it should. “Both.”
He hums, pleased. “Good to know. Means next time, I’ll keep the porch light on.”
I groan again, but the sound turns to a shaky laugh. “You’re so annoying.”
He’s still grinning when I lower my hands from my face, that smug, satisfied look that says he’s not even close to done tormenting me.
“And yet,” he says, finally releasing my foot, “here you are.” He leans forward, still holding my gaze, and hooks his hand around the leg of my chair. The scrape of wood on wood makes my stomach flip. “You like being annoyed by me.”
“Debatable.”
He tugs again, dragging me closer until my knees bump his. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I lie, my voice a little breathless.
His smile deepens, wolfish. “Liar.”
Before I can respond, he hooks two fingers through the arm of my chair and pulls it the rest of the way until the front legs hit his. “Better,” he murmurs. Then, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, he reaches for me and hauls me into his lap.
“Scotty—” I gasp, grabbing for balance, but he’s already got me, one hand splayed over my lower back, the other sliding into my hair.
“Relax,” he murmurs against my temple. “You’re wound up tight enough to snap.”
“I wonder whose fault that is.”
“Mine,” he admits. His fingers tangle in my hair, giving a slow, deliberate tug that makes my pulse stutter. My body goes pliant, heat curling low in my stomach.
“Scotty…”
He tilts my head back, lips brushing the base of my throat. The first kiss there is soft, teasing. The second is a claim. “It’s sexy when you’re jealous,” he says against my skin. “I like it.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, though it comes out more plea than warning.
He hums a laugh, mouth still tracing my neck. “Can’t help it. It’s turning me on.”
His hand slides higher, fingertips trailing my jaw until he finds my mouth. When he kisses me, it’s slow at first, like he’s testing if I’ll meet him halfway. I do. And then there’s nothing slow about it.
He kisses me hard, like he’s making up for every minute we spent pretending we didn’t want this. My fingers clutch his shoulders, nails scraping skin. His tongue slides against mine, and I melt into him completely.
By the time we break for air, I’m panting. He’s smiling, the kind of smile that makes my body ache. “You don’t do halfway, do you?”
“Neither do you,” I whisper back.
He laughs softly. “Fair enough.”
I shift on his lap, meaning to tease, but his hands tighten at my hips, holding me in place. “Careful,” he warns. “You keep that up and I’m not stopping.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to.”
His eyes darken, and before I can take another breath, he’s kissing me again, harder this time.
His hand moves from my hair down my back, over the curve of my ass, squeezing once before guiding my hips.
The friction makes my breath catch; he’s already hard beneath me, thick and straining against the thin barrier of his sweats.
He groans into my mouth, low and raw. “See what you do to me? You make me want to lose control.”
I can barely breathe. “I thought you liked control.”
“I do.” His lips graze my ear. “But I like this more.”
I shift again, slow and deliberate, and his breath punches out against my neck. He bites back a curse.
“Jesus, Adrienne. You’re gonna kill me.”
“Say that again.”
He laughs, rough and broken like he’s trying his hardest to keep his composure. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Maybe.” I smile against his mouth. “But what a way to go.”
I reach between us, fingers sliding under the waistband of his sweats, and my fingertips find heat immediately. I run my hand over his bare skin and the thick, hard length of his cock, stroking him. His whole body goes rigid.
“Fuck,” he rasps, eyes closing for a beat.
“Still think I’m jealous?” I whisper.
He opens his eyes, looks straight into mine. “I think you’re dangerous.”
“Good.”
I free him completely, pushing the fabric down just enough to let him spring free, heavy and hot against my stomach. My breath stutters at the sight.
He leans back, eyes burning into me, and then his hand is on me again, sliding between my thighs, finding me already slick. “You’re not wearing anything under my shirt.”
“Nope.”
He groans, the sound more animal than human. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Maybe.”
I rise up just enough to line him up, and when I sink down, it’s slow, inch by inch, both of us groaning at the stretch. The air leaves my lungs in a rush. His grip on my hips turns punishing.
“Holy shit,” he growls, head falling back. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
I start to move, hips circling, finding the rhythm that makes him curse again. The porch boards creak beneath us, wine glasses forgotten. The cool night air licks at my bare legs, but I’m burning from the inside out.
His hands slide up my sides, over the T-shirt I stole from him, until he’s cupping my breasts through the thin fabric. “Take it off,” he orders.
I pull it over my head, toss it aside, and his eyes go molten.
“That’s it, fuck me,” he says, hands moving to my bare breasts. “Jesus, Adrienne.”
I press his palms to me, arching forward, needing his touch. “Touch me,” I breathe.
He does. Both hands, firm and hungry, thumbs flicking across my nipples as I ride him. The sound of skin meeting skin mixes with the ragged rhythm of our breathing.
“Look at you,” he groans, voice strained. “If anyone drives by, they’ll know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
“I don’t care.” My words come out as a gasp as I grind down harder, chasing the friction. “Let them.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, gripping my hips, guiding me faster, deeper. His mouth finds mine again, all teeth and tongue and desperation. The world narrows to the heat between us, the creak of the porch, the low rumble of his voice in my ear.
“You’re gonna make me lose my damn mind,” he growls.
The night could explode around us, but all I feel is him. His hands, his mouth, his rough breaths breaking against my skin. And when he tilts his hips just right and hits that spot again, I realize I might already be gone.
He’s breathing hard now, forehead pressed to mine, each thrust rougher, needier. The chair groans beneath us. His hands grip my hips, guiding, controlling, making me ride him harder. My moans come out uneven, unfiltered, lost in the sound of us.
“Scotty…” My voice cracks. “I’m—God, I’m close.”
“I know, baby.” His voice is gravelly. “I can feel it. You’re squeezing me so tight I can barely think.”
He catches my jaw, kisses me like it hurts to stop, then trails his lips down my neck. His teeth graze the edge of my shoulder, and I cry out, head falling back.
When I start to shudder, he groans against my skin. “Not yet.”
“I—Scotty—”
“Not. Yet.” The words rumble against my throat. His hands slide lower, and before I can blink, he’s lifting me off his lap. I gasp at the sudden emptiness, at the way he stands with me still in his arms. The chair scrapes back with a thud, forgotten.
“What are you—”
He turns, setting me on the porch table, the cool wood a shock against my overheated skin. His eyes meet mine, dark and wild. “Couldn’t let that end with me sittin’ down,” he says, voice low and rough. “I need to fuck you the way I’ve been wanting to for years.”
Before I can answer, he flips me, pressing my chest to the table, his body crowding mine from behind. I barely have time to brace before he slides into me again—deep, hard, a single thrust that punches the breath from my lungs.
“Scotty! Fuck, it hurts!”
He groans, hand gripping my hip tight enough to bruise. He grabs a handful of my hair and tugs my head back, his breath hot against my neck. “You like the pain, remember?” His teeth clamp down against my skin, and I cry out, my body pulsing against him.
“So deep.” I groan, trying to accept him.
“Or was that a lie, Adrienne?” Before I realize it, he’s reared his hand back and brought it down hard against my bare ass, the smacking sound startling me.
My body responds, a moan tumbling from my lips as I arch my back against him, the sting of the slap and the rough way he’s handling my body making me ache with need.
“Yeah, that’s it. Take me deeper, baby.” He notices the way my body responds, sliding in deeper as he grabs my ass and whispers in my ear how I’m going to take it.
The table creaks under us, his rhythm steady, rough, perfect. Each thrust drives me higher, pushes me further, the friction making sparks explode behind my eyes.
“Fuck,” he growls, voice breaking. “You feel so goddamn good.”
Every word vibrates through me. I can hear the slap of skin, the quiet scrape of the table with each thrust. I grip the edge of the table, knuckles white, every muscle strung tight.
He leans forward until his chest is flush to my back, one arm wrapping around me, hand splaying between my breasts. His other hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back just enough that his mouth finds my ear.
“You know what’s crazy?” His voice is rough and breathless. “I thought getting you out of my system would fix it. But now I just want more.”
I can’t form a thought, can’t say a thing. The only thing I can do is lie here and take every inch of Scotty’s cock as he drives into me over and over again.