Chapter 12
JAYDEN
Jesus. She’s so goddamn beautiful. And fun. Bright, like a diamond, or the sun. A star. I feel like I’m so fired up, it’s a wonder my clothes aren’t smoking.
The bike ride home wasn’t comfortable. But I didn’t have to think about dog vomit to distract myself. Thinking about the conversation we had earlier on the beach was enough to do it.
I wasn’t sure how to respond to her. I just know I don’t want things to end.
Now we’re back at the park where we started out, standing with our bikes at the seawall. The trees surrounding the park blaze in shades of crimson and gold and green, the high-rise buildings behind them all white and silver against the blue sky.
I don’t want this date to end.
I look at Stella. I need to touch her. I need to be inside her, even if it’s just my tongue.
I study her face and she’s watching me, too, her eyes warm. When I look at her mouth, her lips part and her breath hitches. Fuck yeah. I lean down and slant my mouth over hers, a slow press at first, a gentle, inquisitive kiss. I draw back to look at her to make sure she’s okay with this.
She curls her fingers into my shirt and pulls me back to her and I’d smile except I’m kissing her again, this time deeper, seeking entrance to her mouth with my tongue.
Her response is immediate, a soft sound of pleasure and her mouth opening to me.
My tongue slides against hers and holy hell, she’s so sweet. Silky soft. Lush.
One of her hands comes up to my chest, pressing there. Heat coils in my belly and no amount of thinking of dog vomit is going to help the situation in my pants.
I open wider, taking more, and her fingers slide up to the side of my neck, brushing over my skin. How can I ever stop kissing her?
But she pulls back. Disoriented, I blink.
“We can’t do this here.” She glances around us.
I watch her lips move. Did she say something?
Oh yeah… “Right.” I clear my throat. It’s a gorgeous Saturday afternoon.
People are walking by, jogging, cycling.
There are boats on the water. Nobody’s staring at us right now, but someone could recognize me, even with the helmet and sunglasses.
“Right. Should we go to a… better place?”
If she says no, I’ll cry. I swear I’ll blubber like a baby.
“Okay.”
My blood surges hot in my veins. “My place? It’s closer.”
“Yeah.”
Thank you, thank you, I recite over and over in my head as we separate and get back on our bikes. My place is so close, it’s ridiculous, we’re there in minutes, and I lead the way through the lobby and into the big elevator. I push the button for the twenty-second floor.
The air is thick and hot around us as the elevator rises and we say nothing, just keep looking at each other.
As soon as I open the door, we’re greeted by a distraught pug throwing himself at our legs, spinning, crying as if he’d been abandoned for a month. Talk about a cock blocker. I love the little dude, but come on, there’s a woman here for Chrissakes.
Stella of course is happy to see him, crouching down to rub him and accept swipes of his tongue on her cheek. “Now I miss my own baby.” Biting her lip, she looks up at me.
Oh no. No, no, no.
“We can go get her and take her for a walk later. She’ll be fine.”
She makes a sad face and straightens. “Yeah, she will.”
Whew.
Right inside my door is a bedroom that I use to store my bike and other sports equipment and we both leave our bikes there.
When Stella pulls off her helmet and her gorgeous hair tumbles free, I want to slide my hands into it.
She hangs her helmet on the handlebar and follows me out to the living room.
Frank is still dancing around us, then runs to leap onto the couch.
“This is a nice place.” Her voice is low and throaty.
“Thanks.” I glance around.
“There are two levels?”
“Yeah.” I shove a hand into my own hair. The living room is the full two stories high, with tall windows on two walls. “There are two more bedrooms up there.” I clear my throat and gesture at the stairs.
“Nice.” She strolls to the windows. “So much light. And a fabulous view.”
“I like it. Would you like a drink? I have beer. Regular beer and some sour ones from Siwash Brewing.”
“Sour beer?”
“It’s non-alcoholic.” I head to the fridge, the kitchen, dining room and living room all open to each other. “Peach. And citrus.”
“I’ll try a peach one.”
I grab two cans and open them, then walk back to hand her one.
She lifts her cross-body bag over her head and sets it on the table, then takes a big gulp. “Huh. That’s pretty good.”
I gesture at the couch and we both sit. I shove Frank out of the way when he tries to sit between us.
Stella laughs. “Poor baby.”
“He’s an attention whore.”
She chuckles again, totally not taking me seriously, crossing her legs so she’s half-facing me. “That’s their purpose in life. To get our attention.”
“Yeah.” I take a drink of my own beverage. “Just not right now.”
Her smile softens as her eyes move over my face and heat builds again remembering those kisses. Her eyes darken. She’s remembering, too.
I reach out to touch her hair, shifting it back behind her shoulder. “That was a fun bike ride.”
“It was. We have to take advantage of nice weather when we get it.”
“I had a plan B if it was raining.”
“Oh yeah? What was that?”
“I’m not telling you because I’m still going to use it.”
“There’s that presumption again,” she teases.
I stroke her hair again. “Don’t worry, I’ll ask.” I lean in for a kiss, eager to pick up where we’d left off. Her mouth clings to mine, then opens beneath mine, and I sink into the kiss, the heat, the erotic softness of her mouth.
She shifts closer to me, a hand gliding around the back of my neck. Christ. Sensation slides down my spine. Her breasts brush against me and I know for sure she’s feeling the same. This isn’t just a kiss. It’s… nirvana.
I lift a hand to cradle her jaw. She hums in the back of her throat and I’m even harder, painfully hard, and this kiss is even deeper. She feels so fucking good.
“It’s a good thing we came here,” I murmur moments later. “This could get out of hand in a hurry.”
“I hope so.”
Ah fuck. She’s as much into this as I am. Excitement has my heart pumping hard and fast. I have to restrain myself from pushing her down onto the couch and jumping on top of her. Slow. Take it slow. She’s special enough to deserve that.
We make out for a while on the couch, long, slow, exploratory kisses. I nip at her bottom lip, she sucks on my tongue. Our drinks are abandoned on the coffee table and our hands wander everywhere.
“You have too many clothes on,” I mumble. Her long-sleeved top and pants are tight on her body, which I appreciate, but man, I want skin. I want her hands on my skin.
“Mmm.” She plucks at my shirt. “You, too.”
“Come on.” I stand and take her hand, pulling her up, then lead her to the stairs. She follows willingly. So does Frank, and sadly, I have to shut the bedroom door in his face. I spare him a brief moment of sympathy.
In my bedroom, sun still streams in the windows, so I grab the remote and lower the blinds.
While they lower, I flick on a lamp, because I don’t want pitch-dark either.
I want to see beautiful Stella when I make her come.
I pull out the drawer of my nightstand and dig around in it for a couple of condoms, which I toss onto the bed.
I return to her and lift the hem of her shirt up and over her head. Her sports bra is white and tight, with thin straps that crisscross her back. She takes over and pulls it off.
“Jesus.” I can only gaze reverently at her perfect tits.
Her fingers move to the half-zip of my tech shirt. I grab the back of the shirt and pull it off. Her hands land on my pecs, soft and caressing. Red-hot lust floods my veins.
“Oh yeah.” I groan.
“There’s something you should know.”
“I don’t care.”
She breathes out a laugh.
“What?”
“I’m older than you.”
“I know.”
“Oh.”
“I did a little light googling.”
“Ah.” She traces her fingertips over my clavicle. “Okay.”
“Like I said…” I kiss her. “I don’t care.
” I slide an arm around her back and fill my other palm with the soft curve of her breast. Perfect.
I give it a gentle squeeze and she moans, her head falling back.
I drag my mouth down the side of her neck, then lick my way back up to her ear.
I start nudging her toward the bed, backing her up, then I press her down to first sit then lay on the mattress.
She watches me, her tongue wetting her bottom lip.
My cock throbs as I hook my fingers into her leggings and ease them down over her hips and legs, tugging them off, leaving her in a tiny pair of black panties and ankle socks.
I keep my eyes on her face as I push down my pants, stretchy jogger style, no zipper, easy off.
I kick them aside and crawl onto the bed over her, straddling her with my legs wide.
Her gaze dips down to my underwear, stretched by my erection.
“You like what you see?” I murmur.
One corner of her mouth lifts in a sexy little smirk. “I do.” She reaches to palm the bulge in my boxer briefs.
A groan rumbles in my chest. “Oh Jesus.” That feels so good. Electricity licks over every nerve ending in my body.
She makes a noise of appreciation, then slips her fingers inside my briefs and curls them around my shaft.
“Fuck.”
She pulls my underwear down and under my balls and uses both hands to stroke me and cup me, rubbing the wet head of my cock with her thumb. Her lips are parted as she watches herself touch me and it’s so fucking hot, I think I’m losing my mind.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs.
I grit my teeth. It’s time to think about dog vomit again. I rise up on my knees and shove my underwear down. Then I bend lower to kiss her chest. The inside curve of each breast. Then her nipples, one, the other. I slide my tongue over a perfect nub then tug it into my mouth and suck.
I feel her melt into the bed, her knees coming up to my hips.
I want to suck on these sweet tits forever.
I also want to make her come because once I get inside her, I’ll be about two seconds from blasting.
So I inch myself down her body, laying open-mouthed kisses on my way, over her stomach, her hip bones, her panties.
I look up at her as I curve my fingers into them to ease them off her. “Okay?”
“Yes.” Her cheeks are red as apples and her eyes are hazy.
She helps me get them off by bending her knees up and the panties join the rest of our clothes somewhere on the bedroom floor.
I set my hands on her thighs and gently press them open. “So pretty,” I say hoarsely. “Jesus, Stella.” She’s pink and delicate and swollen. And wet. So wet. I trace my fingers over the softest skin and then between the folds and find the slickness. The heat.
Her hips shift on the bed.
“I wanna taste you,” I mutter, shifting myself lower. “Wanna make you come.”
“Oh God.” Her head rolls back and forth on the comforter.
“Still okay?”
“Oh yes.”
“Good. I’m gonna eat you like candy.”