Chapter 18 #2
“Hey, you,” he says, that slow smile unfurling unevenly.
I’m struck all over again by just how gorgeous he is, especially those drowning, big brown eyes set in the sharp angles of his face.
He’s in all black like the first night we met, but he’s switched the leather jacket out for a quarter-length Henley due to the warming weather.
A duffel and his camera bags are slung over one shoulder, making the corded muscle there stand out, and he’s got a few grocery bags hanging from his other hand.
He nods to them. “I brought all the ingredients for homemade biscuits and chocolate gravy because I’ll be damned if your friends don’t find my brunch up to snuff—”
He chokes and pitches forward like he’s been punched in the gut when I swing the door open wide.
Oh, the other thing Ally and I did yesterday? Lingerie shopping.
A wild heat leaps in Danny’s eyes as he rakes them slowly down the scraps of red and black lace.
The see-through bodice crowds my tits up high, clings to the curves of my stomach and hips, and cuts off right at the top of my thighs to reveal the G-string underneath.
I borrowed a pair of Ally’s highest heels to wear with sheer thigh-high stockings.
“You did not do this.” Danny’s hushed voice is dangerous, damn-near lethal in combination with his blackening eyes. Every nerve in my body responds as if he’s a drug, screaming with need.
“I figured red and black were the most sinful,” I purr, my voice barely recognizable, as I slip a finger beneath the thin string slung on my hip.
He releases another choked gasp, seemingly unable to move over the threshold of the door and unable to stop devouring me with his gaze.
I take several steps back and trail the fingers from my G-string up my body slowly so that he follows them over my visibly protruding nipples, my pulsing neck, all the way up to unlatch the clip at the top of my head.
I shake my hair out so it tumbles in loose waves over my bare shoulders and down my back.
He snaps.
He charges inside, dropping all his bags, banging the door shut behind him, and slamming into my body without one hitch in his urgent stride.
We stagger backward. The back of my thighs hit the high, rounded arm of the sectional, but he bands one strong arm around my waist and the other around my neck to keep me upright.
I cling to his back as his hot mouth crashes into mine, already open and seeking.
The throbbing through my core pounds against the thin material, teased by it, and he kisses me like he’s indeed trying to consume me whole, licking my teeth, sucking my tongue, biting my lips.
When his fingers at my waist travel down the string along my backside, I whine loudly into his mouth.
“You wanna be a little Jezebel, huh?” He teases the seam of my ass by running his fingers up and down, up and down. I’m shaking in his arms. “Even before you’ve finished the list?”
He snaps the string—I cry out and claw at the shirt on his back—before he tugs the string upward, creating friction along the entirety of my sex, the material digging between my folds and rubbing against every sensitive place.
Kissing down my neck, he semi-cages me by snatching the front of my G-string with his other hand so he can saw it back and forth.
I find myself grinding counter to each sharp tug, chasing the friction of the lace and string along the length of me as his hard cock rams into my stomach through his jeans.
Pleasure slices through me, carving wider and wider paths through my body with every heightening sensation.
He buries his face into my heaving tits. “Jesus, Christina, how am I going to handle you?”
Now I have to get his hair back in my hands. I gather chunks of it in two tight fists. “However you have to.”
He groans against my breasts, then licks my right nipple through the lacy material.
The layered sensation causes my back to arch, and he licks more at the offering as I guide him by his hair back and forth between both nipples and across my flushed skin, all while he jerks that string back and forth and drives me out of my mind.
“Danny.” I need more. I’ve been dropped in the middle of an endless ocean of sensation, and I’m treading the lapping, powerful water with no land in sight. The swell inside keeps growing and growing without cresting and I’m desperate.
He releases the ruined string, but then his fingers trail down along the back and don’t stop this time until the padded tips are right there at the rim of my entrance, circling in the wet. The pulsing intensifies through my body, almost unbearable through my core.
“If you wanna parade around in this little outfit, you’re gonna get finger-fucked. That’s the deal, baby.”
And then two fingers sink in, and my entire being clenches around them.
“Such a tight pussy for me,” he mutters, dragging his mouth up my neck to pant hot breath into my ear.
He withdraws his fingers only to plunge them back in, deeper, and I’m strung so taut that my body trembles against him.
The fact that he’s still fully clothed, that we haven’t made it past the couch, only makes the whole encounter that much hotter.
I’m simultaneously a little plaything to be used for his pleasure and a powerful queen who can destroy him with one look.
Over and over, he fucks me with his fingers, slowly at first but then gaining in speed. Sopping noises from my soaked pussy mix with my moans. I ride his hand and yank at his hair, and he encourages me with raspy whispers of take it, baby and so wet and good little Jezebel.
I’ve never felt sexier, or more desired, or more myself, completely in tune with my body and dialed to Danny’s frequency.
He withdraws completely—my pussy achingly empty for a torturous second—only to plunge back in with a third finger, just as the heel of his other hand grinds over my clit.
Stars explode in my vision. The sudden fullness, paired with the hard contact over my mercilessly primed and swollen clit, bursts the swelling bubble.
I shudder and whimper as my pussy spasms around his fingers.
Right on the tail end of the orgasm, he thrusts his fingers one more time, hard, and the explosion expands and stretches impossibly.
I can only cling to his shoulders, unsure for long seconds if I’ll ever be released from the pleasure seizing my body.
“Holy shit,” he says when I do finally collapse against him, my braced thighs against the couch the only thing keeping me from slumping right onto the floor.