Chapter 22 #2
She turns toward me, lips parting to say something, but I don’t give her the chance. My fingers tangle in her hair, tilting her head back as I crash my mouth to hers. It’s not gentle. It’s months of unsaid things…hell, years, poured into one moment.
Her back hits the wall with a muffled thud. I cage her in, chest pressed tight to hers, breathing her in like oxygen. She tastes like wine, her lips parting on a small gasp that shoots straight through me.
“Scotty—” she breathes, voice already strangled with need.
I swallow her words with another kiss, deeper, rougher.
She fists my shirt and drags me closer, kissing me back like she’s been starving too.
Every sound, every breath between us turns into something desperate and messy.
My hands slide down her body, gripping her hips, bunching her dress higher until the soft fabric gathers at her waist. My palms find smooth, bare skin.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I mutter against her mouth.
She trembles when I trace the edge of her panties, fingers slipping beneath the thin lace.
She’s wet already, and the sound that leaves her throat nearly undoes me.
I press my forehead to hers, breathing hard. “You have any idea what you do to me?”
Her fingers tangle in my hair, nails grazing my scalp. “Show me.”
That’s all it takes. I slide two fingers inside her, slow at first, then deeper, curling them until her breath shatters against my lips. She grips my shoulders, moaning softly as I work her open, thumb circling her clit in lazy, torturous strokes.
“Right here,” I whisper, voice low and rough. “I want to feel you come for me before we even make it upstairs.”
She gasps, head falling back against the wall. I catch her throat lightly in my hand, just to feel her pulse racing against my palm.
“Scotty,” she pants, hips starting to roll with every thrust of my fingers.
“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” I rasp. “Come on. Let go for me.”
Her legs start to shake, breath catching as the sound of her soft moans fills the room.
I watch her face, noticing the way her lips part, the way her eyes flutter the moment she breaks.
She comes hard, clenching around my fingers, a soft cry spilling from her mouth.
I kiss her through it, murmuring against her skin, “That’s my girl. So damn perfect.”
When she finally stills, chest rising fast against mine, I keep her there, holding her face in my hands, kissing her slow and deep until her breathing steadies.
Her voice comes out on a shaky laugh. “You’re not done, are you?”
I grin, breath rough against her lips. “Not even close.”
She smiles, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing. “Then stop wasting time.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I wrap an arm around her waist and haul her against me as we stumble toward the stairs, losing ourselves in every kiss. Every step feels like falling deeper, faster, until we reach her bedroom door and the rest of the world disappears.
The second her back hits the bedroom door, I’m kissing her again, hard and hungry, like I’m afraid that if I stop, she’ll vanish.
She’s breathless, tugging at my shirt, desperate to get closer.
I help her, yanking the hem over my head and tossing it somewhere behind us.
Her hands drag down my chest, nails catching, a low sound slipping from her throat that’s half groan, half plea.
“God, I need this,” she murmurs, voice rough with need.
I grab her wrist, pin it above her head against the wall, my body crowding hers. “You mean me.”
Her eyes meet mine. “Yeah. You.”
I kiss her again, slower this time but deeper, savoring every soft gasp, every tremor that ripples through her body.
Her dress slides over her hips as my hand trails down, catching the edge and dragging it up.
She helps me, shimmying out of it until it pools at her feet.
She’s standing there in nothing but two scraps of lace and the kind of beauty that knocks me stupid.
“Jesus, Adrienne,” I mutter. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
She smiles, stepping closer, fingers hooking into my belt loop. “Maybe that’s the point.”
I grab her ass, lift her clean off the ground, and her legs wrap around my waist. She gasps when my cock presses hard against her through my jeans, hips rolling instinctively.
“Bed,” she whispers against my mouth.
I walk her backward, kissing her, tasting every sound she makes, until we hit the edge of the bed.
I set her down, hovering over her for a second, just looking.
The flushed skin, the rise and fall of her chest, the way she’s watching me like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered.
Then I’m on her again, our mouths fusing, hands everywhere.
It’s frantic. The rest of our clothes hit the floor in pieces. My jeans. Her bra. The soft gasp when I slide my hand between her legs again, teasing her just to hear that sound one more time.
“Scotty, please…”
The way she says my name. This time, it’s not a plea, it’s a surrender. I drag the head of my cock along her slit, just enough to make her tremble. “You want me to stop?”
Her eyes flash, daring. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I smirk, leaning in, brushing my lips against hers. “Then tell me how much you want it.”
Her breath catches. “You already know.”
“I wanna hear you say it.”
Her hips arch, body trembling. “I want you, Scotty. No one else—just you.”
The words wreck me. I line myself up and push inside, inch by inch, until she’s gasping, clutching my shoulders, nails biting into my skin.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You feel like you were made for me.”
I don’t waste any time, and it’s clear she doesn’t want me to. She’s pulling me closer, back arching off the bed as she gasps with every stroke. She’s shaking, moaning, meeting every thrust with her own, but I slow it down, grinding, teasing, dragging it out until she’s breathless.
“Scotty,” she pants. “Please—”
“Not yet,” I rasp, pinning her wrists above her head. “You’re gonna take every second of this.”
Her eyes flutter, chest rising fast. “You’re torturing me.”
“Good.” I thrust deeper, hitting that spot that makes her cry out. “I want you wrecked when I’m done with you.”
She comes again, fast and hard, trembling under me, and I barely hold on, every muscle burning. I press my forehead to hers, swallowing her cries with my mouth, feeling her pulse around me until I’m losing control right along with her.
When the damn finally breaks, it’s a blur.
I groan her name, my breath coming out in rapid puffs, her nails raking down my back.
I spill into her, burying myself deep, groaning low against her neck as the world goes quiet around us.
For a long time, neither of us moves. The only sound is our ragged breathing settling into a normal cadence.
I brush a thumb over her cheek, her hair damp and tangled against the pillow. She looks up at me, eyes glassy. If this is goodbye, she’s gonna be the one who haunts every night after this. She will always be the one who got away.
We lie there for a beat, hearts thundering, sweat cooling on skin.
She’s still wrapped around me, warm and soft and wrecked in the best way, a satisfied smile tugging at her swollen lips.
I should be done, my body feels boneless, my brain is a scramble of white noise, but the sight of her like this, marked up by my mouth and hands, makes something low and hungry catch fire again.
I kiss the corner of her mouth. Then her jaw. Then lower, trailing lazy, reverent kisses down the silk skin of her throat. Her fingers slide into my hair, a soft hum vibrating out of her chest. That sound does it. I harden again, slow and certain, like my body already knows what I need.
I shift, pulling out of her with a groan. She gasps, eyes flicking open, looking down at me as I settle between her knees and kiss her belly, the dip of her hip, the inside of her thigh. I’m not rushing. Not now. Not when I need to memorize every inch of her.
“Scotty,” she whispers, voice husky. “God, you—”
“Shh,” I murmur into her skin, mouth brushing the soft place where her pulse stutters. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I slide a hand beneath her thigh and guide her leg higher over my shoulder.
With the other, I line myself up and press forward.
This time, I go slow and deep, taking her inch by inch.
Her breath catches on my name, head tipping back, hands clutching at the sheets.
I keep going, every muscle tight, until I’m buried to the hilt and both of us are shaking.
“Fuck,” I grind out, forehead dropping to hers. “You’re so damn perfect.”
Her eyes flutter, and I watch the exact moment the pleasure hits like a light switching on behind them. She moans, a broken little sound, heels digging into my back. I pull out an inch, slide back the same way. My movements are unhurried; I want to make sure she feels every inch of it.
“Look at me,” I tell her, voice rough velvet. “I want your eyes when you fall apart.”
I set a rhythm of long, deep strokes, the kind that say mine without a single wasted word.
I pin her wrists gently above her head and lace our fingers together, pressing them into the pillow as I move.
Every time I push in, I roll my hips to grind against that tender spot inside her.
Every time I pull back, I drag it out just enough to make her chase me.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “No other man has made you feel this way, baby.”
Her body answers before her mouth does, tightening, fluttering, pulsing against my cock. Her breaths come quicker, higher, little fractured sounds that stab straight through my chest.
“Scotty—” It’s almost a gasp, almost a prayer. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping,” I promise, kissing her with every thrust. I slide one hand down, palm spreading over her lower belly, feeling every deep stroke from the outside.
The other cradles the side of her neck, thumb coaxing her chin back toward me when her eyes try to roll shut.
“Stay with me,” I murmur. “I want to watch you come.”
The second I apply pressure to her belly, she breaks fast. Faster than she expects, one sharp inhale and she’s gone, crying out my name as her body clamps down around me.
I swallow the sound with my mouth, keep moving through it, slow and relentless, dragging the pleasure out of her until she’s shaking, nails biting fresh lines into my shoulders.
“Good girl,” I rasp against her lips, still thrusting deep, steady. “That’s it. Give it to me.”
She’s wrecked and gorgeous, blinking up at me like she can’t believe what I’m doing to her, what we’re doing to each other.
I flip us gently, guiding her onto my lap, never slipping free.
She gasps at the angle, the stretch. She moans, falling forward, her palms flat against my chest. I anchor her hips and hold her there, just breathing with her for a second, letting her feel how deep I am.
“Ride me slow,” I tell her. “Take what you want.”
She rolls her hips in a long, deliberate circle, and we both groan.
Another. Then she finds a rhythm that has me gripping her so tight as I try to hold back.
I watch her, her hands splayed on my chest, back arching, hair tumbling down like a curtain.
The string of broken sounds she makes is pure lust, and I’m helpless beneath it, holding her, meeting her, losing pieces of myself with every rise and fall.
“Look at you,” I manage, jaw tight, lungs burning. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She leans forward, noses brushing, breath hot on my mouth. “Worth it.”
It hits me hard then, how much I want to keep this, hold it, never let her go. The thought punches the air from my lungs. I grip her hips and surge up into her, deeper, and her head tips back on a gasp.
I’m so close, but I still don’t rush. I keep her moving, keep our eyes locked when she can, kiss her when she starts to come apart again. When the edge finally grabs me, it’s brutal and sweet all at once, my pulse spiking, vision blurring, her name torn from my throat like a secret I meant to keep.
I spill into her with a rough groan, pull her tight to my chest, and hold on while the world drops out from under us. We breathe there, tangled and sweating again. I rub a hand up and down her spine, feeling the little tremors as they fade.
She sags against me, cheek to my shoulder, a soft, contented sound catching in her throat. I press my mouth to her temple, eyes closed, and try to brand this into memory; the weight of her, the warmth, the way it feels when you’re in love.