Chapter 31 #2
I lick my lips and step back into his space, my body at once heating with his nearness. “Uh-huh. Maybe …”
“Maybe what?” he asks, a little breathless now.
“Maybe I should make you do it a little more.”
His eyes darken, dropping to my chest where I’ve left a few buttons undone, and where a flush is no doubt rising to my heated skin. His voice is gravelly when he asks, “What did you have in mind?”
I run a finger down the center of his chest. “Well, isn’t it usually done on your knees?”
He groans, then drops to the floor, his hands coming up to grip my hips as he looks up at me. “How’s this?”
I smirk. “I think you’ve got the right idea now.”
Turns out I’m a big fan of him going down.
A slow smile spreads across his face as he untucks my blouse, pushing it up to reveal my stomach.
“And this?” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the newly exposed skin beneath my belly button.
“Mm-hm,” I hum, dropping my head back as heat floods my core. He moves to unbutton my dress pants, then slowly, achingly slowly, he pulls my zipper down. I shudder as the delicious anticipation builds.
Another kiss, and then his hands are on my waistband, sliding my pants off over my trembling thighs.
He assists me in removing them, along with my embarrassingly sensible shoes, before leaning in and pressing another soft kiss to my abdomen, then another, lower, until finally he presses his lips against the already damp fabric of my plain cotton panties, at the apex of my thighs where I’m aching for it. For him.
I watch his shoulders rise as he pauses there to inhale the scent of my arousal. He groans and does it once more, sucking it deep into his lungs. I moan at the sight. He pulls back, looking up once more to meet my eyes, causing my breath to hitch at the need shining there.
I went so long without seeing that look in a man’s eyes, without feeling desirable.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact he wants me.
Just the way I am. He’s not turned off by my lack of sexy pumps or lacy underthings, nor anything else about the tired mom persona I’m so often rocking.
No, in fact, he seems desperate to have me in all my iterations—the tear-stained version rocking a hoodie and old leggings on the ridge, the messy-haired one in silly Christmas jammies, and the tired librarian’s assistant in discount slacks and a worn blouse I’ve had for over a decade.
“Still on the right track?” he asks, his voice low.
“Uh-huh,” I breathe, biting my lip. “You’re being a very good boy.”
He grins darkly at the encouragement. “I’ll be the best boy,” he growls, before hooking one of my legs over his shoulder.
“You’ll see,” he reassures me, then slides my panties to the side.
His breath is hot against my wet skin as he leans in, parting me with his thumbs, and promptly licking a long stripe through my soaking wet folds.
My head drops back, and I wiggle my hips in an attempt to spread my legs wider, moaning wantonly as he works me over.
His hands move to cradle my ass while he licks and sucks, switching to focus all of his attention on my clit.
He follows my cues, increasing the pressure of his tongue, moving it in a tight circular motion that has me hopping on one leg and gripping his shoulders to steady myself.
One of his hands leaves my ass, and he slides a long, thick finger inside me, pumping into me with smooth strokes.
It’s followed quickly by a second, and then a third.
“Fuck, Sunshine,” he groans against my heated skin. “I will grovel for you every day if it means I get to eat your sweet pussy like this.”
I bite my lip, groaning out my approval of that plan as he curves his fingers in a beckoning motion inside me, hitting the spot that ignites a ripple of pleasure within me.
I grunt in a very unladylike way and shift my hands to his head when he pauses his licking to suck my clit.
My fingers grip his hair, holding him there, silently urging him to do it again.
Thank God he can read minds, because he does.
Our eyes lock, and he holds my gaze as he leans in and sucks it once more. Hard.
My back arches, and I break for him then, clenching and rippling around his fingers, shouting his name into the quiet of the library.
Satisfaction flares in his eyes as he watches me go over the edge.
I nearly lose my balance, but his free hand comes around to hold me in place, his fingers tightening on my hip in a way I’m certain will leave a mark.
Speaking of marks, he presses a wide-mouthed kiss to my inner thigh, sucking until he’s left a darkening welt.
“For good measure,” he murmurs. “So you remember who you belong to.”
He sets the gusset of my panties back in place, then helps me to slip my pants and shoes back on, before slowly getting to his feet and taking my mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue slides between my lips, and I taste myself.
“Should’ve kissed you the moment I saw you,” he murmurs. “Won’t make that mistake again.”
We walk to my car, hand-in-hand, and all the while I grin like the cat that ate the canary.
My panties are soaked beyond the point of discomfort, especially given the wind chill, but I don’t care.
Not only did I let him go down on me in the front entry of my place of work—still without having locked the door, I might add—but I also initiated it and asked for what I wanted.
I like that he let me play this game with him.
It’s not something I ever would have done back then, but I’m a woman now with a lot fewer hang-ups or fucks to give, and while my self-esteem hasn’t been great in recent years, Riley’s seemingly never-ending hunger for me has done wonders to build my confidence.
Plus, I’m having fun.
Letting myself have fun.
And … I’m happy. Happier than I’ve been in a very long time.
We stop a few feet from my car, and I smile up at him. Even bathed in the yellow cast of the streetlights, he’s gorgeous.
“Good night,” I say, then pause before throwing over my shoulder as I turn towards my car, “stalker!”
He chuckles and shoots back with “Maybe, but a romantic stalker, right?”
And once again, he waits for me to get into my car and pull away before climbing into his truck and returning to work.